#NerdsUnite: My first adult heartbreak (PT. 5)
<editorsnote> In this series of posts, I hope to explore and examine my first adult relationship and subsequent heart break in the hopes of releasing what may or may not still be present. </editorsnote>
YAY! Part 5 is up! So this is a series of posts about my first relationship, and my first adult heartbreak. Here's part 1, part 2, part 3, and part 4. Catch up there first so you're not lost!
Here's the song that goes with the post ...
Noah and I fought like cats and dogs. Like cats and dogs, cats and dogs. Here was this girl that outwardly speaking seemed confident (I wasn't really confident though, just ballsy, and without a filter), and a guy that liked taking care of people and things - but didn't know how to articulate what he was feeling.
I mean come on. Does this not sound like a recipe for disaster?
At the end of the day though, we loved each other deeply. He was my dude, and I was his babe. Whether or not we were compatible, good for each other, or in a healthy relationship in any capacity, it doesn't change the fact that we were two 20 somethings in love.
December was pretty much a bust. Between my birthday blowing massive chunks, and Christmas which was anti-climactic because for the first time I was away from my family, ANNNNDDD with someone that didn't celebrate.
I remember sitting upstairs on the bed sobbing so hard the day after Christmas. I don't understand, I thought. Here is something I have wanted my entire life - to be loved, and now that I have it, it still feels empty. What gives?!?!?! What fucking gives!?! Why does all of this look so perfect, but feel so ... void.
Noah tried his best at that time to cheer me up. He knew something was wrong, but had no idea what to do. His frustration peaked.
You take so many pills, he said one day. Don't any of those actually work!!
I'm trying, I screamed.
I'm ... TRYINNGGG ...
<tangent> At that time, I was on SOOO much medication it would make your headspin. From anti-depressants, to anti-anxiety, to basically anti-life. I was operating somewhere between barely conscious, and comatose.
Dudes, for reals - I took 3 xanax and 2 klonopin alone just for anxiety. I was 22!!!!! And at 5'7 like 110lbs!!!!! That shit was enough to knock out a horse!!!! Doctors just kept prescribing more and more without asking. I would go and say, it's still not working (because it genuinely wasn't), and BOOM they would just give me more and more. Fucking NUTS!!! </tangent>
Noah pushed more and more wondering why I wasn't happy feeling helpless, yet the more he pressured me the more unhappy I got.
I started taking more and more medication. Just make it stop hurting, I thought. Fill the void - please. Everything should be perfect, I thought. Why isn't it?
The dust managed to settle sometime around New Years. One of Noah's friends was the son of this big infomercial god and he invited us both to a private extravagant party he was throwing on the family's property.
I was excited to have something other than my happiness to focus on, and Noah was happy to hang with his friends.
This is perfect, I thought. New year, new beginning. This has to be a turning point in our relationship, I am determined to make this work. We live together!! I gave up my life for this!!
That was the problem though, I gave up my LIFE for this relationship. That's attributed to how unhappy I was though. There I was willing to throw away my own identity, and this life that I had built for someone who said that they loved me.
You have to understand, my everything was Noah at that point. I gradually stopped seeing my friends because I was in the Valley (NO ONE hangs out with you if you live in the Valley). I only hung out with Noah and his friends and put myself in this ... isolation. I worked, was sexually harassed all day, then went home to a guy that never told me I was beautiful. Total mind fuck.
<tangent> I am fucking CRINGING writing these posts out, btw. Just seeing on the screen how I was makes me never. ever. ever. want to go back. </tangent>
The New Years party was great. Still to this day one of the best parties I have ever been to. Dudes, he turned his tennis court into this MASSIVE casino, and between the mock roulette tables, and Dom champagne - I mean my GOOODDD the money they must have spent.
Absurd.
Seriously, I would rather just take the dollar bills and have like a tickle party - haha but to each their own!
Noah and I had an amazing time and for a moment, my happiness seemed to not be in question, and he seemed to be letting up on me a bit.
Of course, however, that didn't last long.
Shortly after the hangovers subsided I was faced with my own inner reality - that I was miserable. Instead of understanding emotionally what my next doable action was, I just got quiet and isolated. That pissed Noah off.
What do you want to do? What can I do for you? He would scream.
JUST LEAVE ME ALONEEEEEEE!! I would scream back.
This is my house!! What do you want me to do!!
Fine, I'll fucking leave! I would say as I drove off into my beetle convertible.
I never knew where I was going, and I never stayed away for long - but it was dramatic enough to make a statement whether a purpose was present or not.
Time after time, I would sneak back into the house.
I'm sorry, I would say as I cuddled into his lap, curling up on his chest.
You've got to stop this shit, he would say.
I know - I know. I don't know what's wrong with me, and I don't understand why I can't seem to just "get a grip!"
It's all those fucking meds you're on. Stop taking them.
I can't!! I'm scared. They actually keep me kinda sane.
HA! He would laugh. You think you're sane? I think you need to be evaluated.
His insensitivity consistently brought me to tears. I know he meant well, and I know he was just trying to help and let us grow together as a couple, but I was dying on the inside. I had all this energy, and all this "spunk" - but I didn't love myself, and how can you ever love someone else if you don't love yourself first.
I cried myself to sleep for weeks. Our once potent sex life diminished down to nothing.
We would fight and fight, I would cry and cry, and storm off - he sat and played Xbox.
I just don't know what to do with her, I would hear him say on the phone. She's crazy. This chick is legitimately crazy.
What's wrong with me? I wondered. Am I crazy?
February 6, 2007. I came home from work to an empty house, and just started crying. I still to this day don't know what set me off on that day, but I just completely cracked.
I was in the upstairs bedroom, and started crying on the floor. I can't do this anymore - I can't. I can't.
I need an escape.
I looked over at my pill bottles. What can I take that would make all of this go away?
I don't want to die though, I thought. I just can't keep living life this way.
If I take the pills though, I can just go to sleep. Maybe someone will find me and take me to a hospital.
Suicidal thoughts permeated my brain, but I knew in my soul I very genuinely didn't want to die.
What to do then? I cried. What?!!? What LIFE!!!?!!? What the FUCK do you want from me?!!?!?
I continued crying downstairs, out the back door, and started walking down the street - my cheeks COVERED in tears and runny mascara.
I.
Can't.
Do.
This.
Anymore.
I didn't grab my cell phone, didn't even grab a house key - I just started walking (fortunately, I was wearing shoes).
I had no idea where I was going to walk to, I don't even think I had my wallet on me.
I had a complete nervous breakdown.
I walked for about 15 minutes, and then wound up outside of a rehab center.
Rehab. Rehabilitation, I thought.
YES!!! YES!!!! YES!!!! I need life rehab!!!
I walk inside, and approach the window outside reception.
Excuse me, I say.
The nurse jumps up from her seat startled at my haggard appearance.
I need help, I say.
Are you on drugs, asked the nurse?
No, but I feel like I am a danger to myself.
She then walks around from the partition - and hugs me.
Come here sweetie, come inside this office and sit down.
I was then escorted to this little room with a simple gray desk and phone.
I had managed to calm myself down at that point, with my body only shaking periodically with the occasional sniffle/ hiccup.
I curled into the chair and at some point passed out.
I woke up a few minutes later to two nurses standing over me.
We've got a place for you to go sweetie, and we've already called ahead to let them know that you're on your way. Is there anyone you can call to pick you up to give you a ride, they asked. Or anyone you want to call to let them know you're going to be gone?
Noah. I said. Can you call my boyfriend, Noah?
Sure. What's his number?
I then sat up and dialed the number into the phone.
Oh hi, the nurse said indicating that he had answered. This is the XXX rehab center, we have your girlfriend Jennifer here. We are going to send her to the emergency room, she isn't feeling very well and we feel she needs to be checked out.
The second she said emergency room, I checked out. I have no idea what she said past that point, nor do I have any memory of how much time passed.
I only remember hearing the click of the phone indicating that she had hung up, and sometime later feeling a hand on my forehead hearing someone say, hang in there sweetie. It'll be okay soon.
Perfect, I thought. I just want it all to be okay.
I fell back asleep.
ANNNNNND next up, I go to the hospital. Did I mention that Noah didn't pick me up? He sent a friend of his. That was AAAWWKKKWWAAAARRRDDD!!
#kthxbye
