So best friend got back to me, saying what I thought she would: that an in-person confrontation is not a good idea at all. That I have had my venting sessions, despite them not being in person. That I have yelled at him, and he therefore knows that I "think he's shit" and he has moved on. And that if I feel I need to do this, then I am not completely over it yet, despite my saying otherwise. She is probably right.
I'm not completely over it. I'm not, and I try to fool myself into thinking that I am.
I suppose it is difficult to get over someone and a relationship you have had so many different strong feelings for, ranging from complete love to utter hatred. And in terms of being hurt, I've gone from wondering about what happened, to thinking that everything was my fault, to thinking that he was always just a piece of garbage, back to thinking it was all my fault, that none of this would have happened if I figured out what was wrong...and now to thinking that all he ever did was manipulate my actions by using his emotions and my love for him and my general desire to please others.
Through his manipulation, he took away one of the few characteristics of myself that I had always loved: my independence.
Really part of me says that I should have realized that would happen. Even in the beginning, if I recall correctly, he somewhat did not enjoy that aspect of mine. I was too difficult to pursue (when I thought things were going great, he thought things were sinking), and then I was not one who always needed to hang out with him. At first I did not text him all the time. I did not always want to hang out with him. I did not see a desperate need to talk to him every single day. And after we got together, he was always more distressed about not talking than I was. Sure, was I sad at times? Yeah, but not panicked about it. Whenever I stressed over not talking in the beginning, it was usually due to the fact that I knew he was freaking out about it, and I didn't want to cause him that pain.
As time went on, my sense of independence slowly eroded; what I chose to do depended on how he felt, how I anticipated he would feel, what he wanted to do, etc., etc. And I did this because the times where I did what I wanted when I was in London were met with tears and sadness and distress on his end and I came to think that me doing these certain things were the source of that pain. Guilt overtook me, and I began avoiding things I once wanted to do and see because I did not want to make him sad.
But when I could no longer see what I could do to make his sadness go away, I just let him do whatever he pleased. 'Everything will go back to the way it was,' I would say, always hopeful, never realizing that the way it was was never very good either.
Then when he left, I felt like I had no purpose. My independence had been buried deep under my devotion to him and our relationship, and it felt like it would never resurface, no matter how hard I tried. I crashed in a way I never thought I would; nothing mattered anymore. And to see him move on almost immediately just added insult to my injuries. Basically, he displayed to me that he did not need me. He did not need me to do things for him. No matter what, I could not make him happy. I could be cast aside, and someone new could take my place, and nothing would be different. In fact, things could be better. Seeing that destroyed me. Because I did need him. My whole identity became attached to him. He had made sure of that many months earlier.
And for a little bit, every time I tried to break away, he would do or say something to reel me back in to him, just as he had always done (and also what he said he didn't want to do anymore). He would, admittedly, say that we should stop talking, but then would always add that he did not want that at all. I was so conditioned to doing what he wanted, that not talking just did not seem like an option for a while. And then when I started wanting to take it, he would lie or message me or cry or whatever. He would manipulate me - as he had always done - into getting what he wanted. And when I pushed back sometimes, calling him out on things, he would either call me irrational, selfish, or something of the like, making me think that is exactly what I was, and therefore I deserved everything that was happening.
Perhaps all of this also highlights a reason why he started taking longer and longer to email me back during our very long chain last year. Not only was he probably meeting another girl by that time (idk I'm just guessing because whenever he says he can't do a relationship anymore, it takes him like...3 months it seems to get a new one going, so lawlz), but my demeanor had changed. Unlike the past me, I pointed out contradictions and lies - not always in the most polite manner - refusing to back down when he would try to tell me that I was wrong. And I stand by all those things I pointed out. I was harder to manipulate.
Having to think about all this and fully realize the extent of his emotional manipulation has stretched out this healing process. Unlike him, who could just cast me aside and move on to the next girl he would so cruelly use, I shattered, had to rethink my identity multiple times, and slowly start trying to build it again, oftentimes demolishing it right after starting.
So, yeah, I'm not completely over it. I guess one doesn't easily get over something like this. It also doesn't help that I do become bitter at the fact that he has had three girlfriends (well...two official and one nonofficial) since me. A little over two years. Meanwhile, I have spent that time trying to figure out who I am without him.
I do hope he treats the new people in his life better than he treated me.
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