FADED VIRIDITY

CHAPTER TEN

We were in the midst of winter. Somewhere around August. It was so beautiful, the dry leaves so raw and proud. I loved how gloomy each day was, it made me feel so alive. I bowed before Autumn whenever it walked down from the castle gates. Her majesty was grand in the way she escaped pretense. The leaves were bare, pools were dry and people were clothed with layers. Despite the weather, I was not in my best moods, especially because I had been dealing with this uncontainable anxiety. I began to move past whatever had happened. Was I over it? Not by a long short. They say that you never forget your first love, I was terrified. I couldn't shake the feeling that I would never be strong enough to let go. See, it wasn't the man who I was so desperately addicted to. However, wherever he is today, I bet he still thinks that my adoration for him was based on his character- as unimpressive as it stood. I was actually addicted to the emotional highs and lows instead. Crazy, right? I know how it sounds but according to psychology, it's true. 

Growing up, I had to deal with the repercussions of my parents' mental blockages, emotional immaturity, the silent treatment and even emotional avoidance. I didn't understand these terms when I was younger, of course. Nor did I know I was going through them. My parents', in their defense, went through nerve-wrecking hardships which in turn diminished their emotional capacity. As sympathetic as I am towards them, that energy unapologetically spilt over me and I suppose that's why I was drawn to a person like this in the first place. The other half of it was my own ignorance, of course. 

Now, according to psychologists- manipulation, gaslighting, breadcrumbing and breaking up and making up constantly is the definition of emotional abuse. Again, I didn't think much of it at that time and naturally, I blamed myself for all of it. His bad mannerisms and his lack of social etiquette was somehow my fault. When he called me 'clingy' for wanting the bare minimum- I believed him. He made me feel embarrassed for wanting a consistent partner. I was mortified by my own idiocy in giving him exuberant amounts of love and energy, all of which were never returned. He made think I was 'too much' yet I kept apologizing to him for not being enough. 

As I write this, I feel sick to the stomach. How could I have ever allowed this? 

Bethany Kahoe, MA, LCMHC-A (a licensed professional counselor associate)says that people stay in abusive relationships for the same reasons they become addicted to drugs or other substances. "They often aim to satisfy the same goal: distract from a deeper, more pervasive pain." This was especially true for someone who grew up in an toxic environment. "For a person who's learned as a child that love equals conflict, an abusive relationship can satisfy their craving for passion, intensity, and drama. This can feel good in the short term but be incredibly harmful in the long run (much like drug use)."In addition to wrestling my own demons (not being aware why they were there or that they existed), Ezra breadcrumped me. 

The concept of breadcrumping is explained as follows: "the act of sending out flirtatious, but non-committal social signals (i.e. "breadcrumbs") in order to lure a romantic partner in without expending much effort."(Megan Beauchamp Megan Beauchamp is a Los Angeles-based writer and editor with over seven years of experience in digital publishing in the home interior and lifestyle space. BRIDES'S EDITORIAL GUIDELINES)And, Willow Smith, MA, LPC, LMFT, LCC said that "an abuser may promise love and quickly take it away, leaving the individual feeling stuck, desperately clinging for approval and connection," Smith also explained. 

"This sporadic reinforcement of affection mimics how the neurotransmitter dopamine reinforces drug use." Our brains are basically wired to increase the odds of us experiencing repetitive pleasurable activities. "While drugs produce intense euphoria rewiring the brain for addiction instead of healthier activities, an individual in an emotionally abusive relationship may desperately seek the pleasurable connection they experienced intermittently with their abuser." That was exactly how I felt. At that moment, I hated everything around me. I hated my life and what had become of it. The tedious task of constantly putting others before my own happiness became exhausting. I knew I could never change my heart. It was the first time that I experienced so much of pain, and I didn't know how to process it. All I could do was cry silently, never knowing what could have been. It never reached its naturally end, and that's where the concept of 'closure' came in. I thought I needed closure, but looking back – what I needed was to believe that his actions weren't a reflection of who I was, rather it was the type of person Ezra was. For whatever reason he was like that was none of my concern. 

I thought that I loathed him because he didn't love me back. But really, I felt resentment towards him because of the way he treated another human being. As it stood, I didn't want to believe or understand anything other than this: I detested him for hurting me. And I don't mean hate as in 'I will try and avoid you because I don't like you, or what you stand for'. No. I mean the kind of revulsion that makes you want to violently punch a wall, or a face. That being said, let's be honest with ourselves for a minute, is revenge actually sweet? Because I don't believe it gives you the satisfaction you're looking for. Let me go further on elaborating on this pompous reprobate. It was about 2/3 months after Ezra broke up with me.

'Hey', I received a text. I checked my phone and stared at it for 5 whole minutes. It was Ezra, of course. My heart pounded so loud; I was deafened by the sound. I felt a sort of excitement and fear. I knew he would hurt me, again. I knew if I answered him, it would take me back to my worst nightmare. Being with him, and ultimately losing him. I knew he had control of me, and it was not meant to be like this. But I reply because I needed my 'fix'...

'Hey... what do you want?' I replied.

'I made a mistake of letting you go. I saw you today at the computer lab with that friend of yours and you looked so beautiful in your red jacket', he texted back.

Like a moth to a flaming fire, I succumbed to his miserable portrayal of effort. We spoke again that night, and then the next night. For one week we spoke about us getting back together. Things didn't change. He apologized for hurting me, but showed no actions to prove that he was genuinely sorry. We picked up right where we left off... in hell. It never occurred to me that maybe he was just not in to me. Maybe he is playing with innocent prey the way a serial killer does to enjoy his kill that much more. He probably never thought about me at all when I wasn't around, just came to me for entertainment and left. And, he did just that. After speaking for one week, like a balloon he flew away again. Nevertheless, I kept making excuses for his pathetic behavior. At the time, I never thought that he was a 'bad person'. "He just went through a lot" or "he is hurting me because he is hurt" and my favorite "I scared him away by being too 53much me', I told myself. Evidently, I was wrong. He was just a fucking psychopath. I kept saying he didn't mean it. I gave myself all the excuses you could find. That he just wasn't prepared, that he just couldn't deal with it, that he couldn't take the pain of being away from me. The predicted self-sabotage came next- 'It's not him, it's me'. 

Truth be told, you will always be "too much" for the wrong person. A lesson learnt far too late is that a man always shows you how he feels. If he cares more about the game or the chase rather than the result then he will cage you, release you, hunt you down and then leave you to bleed out. I've been taught by experience that if a man truly loves you, he will do just about anything to be with you. Unfortunately, I wasn't there to advise the young, naïve me. I winged life as I did in those upcoming exams in that year. Time had passed, and the emotional baggage did get lighter but every time I began to let go, he pulled me back in. 

So, in 2015, I had freedom. Limited freedom, but freedom nonetheless. I met someone during this year. I met two someone's, if we are being completely honest here. But Sam from my Geography class was just a mere flirtation and nothing solid really transpired from it. He was our guidance professor for Sales. He was studying his Masters at the time, and lecturing was his part-time job. I think that was the second time that two guys had been interested in me and that gave me some sort of worth? Stupid right? It is so easy to place your value on external factors and I didn't know better back then. Ezra caught my eye first. He was flustered by me and my existence and I liked it. I didn't want to lose that so I did everything in my power to 'keep him'. So, be it changing my look, or pretending to like something that I in fact hated, I did it. I wish I knew at that time that my self-worth had to stem from within and not by something or someone. When Ezra began to start feeling something for me, he pushed me away, and I took that personally. And when I realized that he never really cared for me, that I was just a game or an ego boost to him, I looked at the mirror with negativity.At the end of 2015, however, I decided to take control of my life. I needed to find myself, I needed to love me. So, I left the campus that I was at and I applied elsewhere. That was the only way I could escape the shackles of this ruthless heartbreak. Moving on was in fact a cathartic journey but in no way was I closer to finding my soulmate.