7. my story - trapped

So picture me now if you will. In my mind, my relationship had trapped me between a wall of secrecy and a wall of marriage.

My final undergraduate year was going rough.

I was getting ready to graduate and still had no clue what I wanted to do afterwards.

I had already been pretty unstable entering into the relationship.

Things took a downward slide. It is hard to write about really. I’m trying not to sound overly dramatic about it, but I don’t ever want to feel like that again.

I went out as little as I could and when I did, I felt guilty. I didn’t go to most of my classes, preferred to remain under my blankets in bed, locked in my small dorm room. Outside, the world waited, another harsh sludgy Canadian winter waited outside, assignments, deadlines, relationships, lies, decisions taunted me from the window. I closed the curtains. Trapped myself in dark thoughts, and then pretty soon, no thought at all. It was irrational, and I cannot explain or fully understand it myself. I guess I started to kill myself slowly from the inside, rather than deal with that outside threatening to consume me. As it turns out, it was pointless, because, either way, I was destroyed.

It was a time that lasted surprisingly long, almost a year and a half, remnants of it lingering right until the beginning of this summer. A month or so before I started this blog.

It’s incredible how long I lasted like that. My calm face to everyone. I broke through once in a while and during those times I felt like I could make it. I would forget every time that I felt a little bit better, forget how easy it was to slip back, forget how deep I could fall.

Enough said about that. This isn’t the story of my depression. But I wanted you to understand, to imagine how it must have been to have THAT as a girlfriend.

He tried to help, like I’ve said before.

But even the most patient person would lose patience. When I cried on the phone for the umpteenth time, he would try to comfort me, tried to encourage me to get help, and when he couldn’t, when I was unreachable, a couple of times, he shut the phone in my face.

It kills me, even now. But not because I blame him.

I hurt X badly during this depression of mine.