I am the reason.

I am the reason my relationships failed.

There, I said it. The truth of the whole thing. I sent the trap for both relationships, and watched as they fell into my failures. I weigh them down with so much baggage, and expect them to fix it. In my warped sense of reality in my head, I took their baggage and worked on fixing it, why couldn’t they do the same for me? Fucked. Absolutely fucked up. I have no idea how to fix me. I have no idea how to calm the storm of emotions, how to ease the exploding pain that radiates from within me. I have no idea how to not act irrationally. I have no fucking idea. Sometimes it feels like I’m in control, and I’m the happiest person ever. Other times, it’s like I’m in the back seat, without any control of my behaviour but also weirdly unable to see the disastrous nature of my actions, words and attitude. Not till I’m pulled from the wreckage I’ve caused and finally can reflect with clarity. I’m terrified of this side of me. This is the side that is willing to watch my whole world be destroyed. The one that doesn’t want me to be happy, doesn’t think I or anyone else deserves happiness. The dementor within me. It’s almost as if, if I fuck everything up, destroy it all, then I don’t have to try anymore. I can finally give up on everything, and go to the ocean in peace with the idea I can take my life. Rest in the non-existence.

That is the most chaotic, fucked up, destructive line of thinking. If I destroy my life, I don’t have to try with breathing. What the actual fuck.

Imagine loving someone that thinks like that from time to time? How do you help her? Especially with my ex who was a problem solver. He loved to help people, and I not only made it impossible, I expected him to do the impossible. When he didn’t and he pulled away, I would lose my mind. I would unconsciously punish him for not helping me, fixing me, making me better. I’m a grown woman. I’m an adult. Yet here I was, just as a child would, expect the adult to take care of me. In those moments though, I am wiped of the memory that I could be that adult. I conveniently forget that I not only have the power, but the responsibility to do so. I’m not a child anymore. Mum and dad weren’t able to help me when I was a child. But now? Now I can do it. I should be doing it. Instead I put this mammoth responsibility on the weight of those I love and respond as a dejected toddler or trashy teenager.

To add to this, I don’t communicate what I’m feeling. Most of the time, I’m not sure of what I’m feeling. Other times I think they should just know. They know me, they should know that I’m mad or upset. Then I’ll hide myself away, and refuse to come out till I can feel sunshine within myself again. I would have times where I would spend a whole day in bed sobbing uncontrollably and unable to stop. I sent my first boyfriend away, not wanting him to see me like that, just being pathetic. I was not just ashamed, I was scared of his reaction. My second boyfriend, I would try to send him away and he would never go. He’d stay and hold my hand or my head on his chest. He let me cry my heart out, witnessing the depth of my feelings. Once he knew I’d exhausted my tears, he’d pull me from bed, held me close and danced. Slowly, holding me, because I was too weak to stand without him. He’d sing softly and slowly in my ear, telling me how much he loved me. He was such a special human being. Watching our mutual destruction was torturous. He’s the only one that has seen me like that. He’s the only one that’s seen me cry so many tears, that my face swells and my body can’t stand. He’s the only one that has seen me at my most vulnerable and loved me through all of it.

Losing him. Losing the first person who has seen me at my weakest, most vulnerable and still held me through it. Even when we broke up, he just held me. He held me till I shoved his hands away. I bulldozed him out of my life. We weren’t perfect. Our relationship was tumultuous. We were mutually destructive. But all the things I thought he did to hurt me. He was in pain. Just like me, he didn’t know how to cope. When he held me together, I tore him apart.

I don’t know how to accept myself knowing I did that. That I did that to him of all people.