fortitude-my-weakness-blog

[fortitude-my-weakness-blog]

January the Twenty Fifth

So I’m back here again. Back to this blog. Back to this city. Back to this life.

Alone.

Why is it that being alone is seen as socially unacceptable? Why is it such a bad thing in this society? I wish I was one of those people who could accept it as reality. Then most of my stress would be gone.

Of course, I’m not really alone. I have my family, my dogs, my friends, my best friends. Honestly, I could talk to any of them about anything. But its just not the same. I finally understand what its like to be alone in a crowd.

I miss being in a relationship. I miss having someone I can text my every thought to, even if that means sending 29 messages in a row about how perfect my dog is.

I don’t even know why I’m writing. I have a months worth of work to cram into one night and all I can think about is getting out of this hell hole town. Stepping off the plane and seeing the cotton fields used to give me so much joy. It reminded me what my purpose in life was. But three months went by while I was hiding out at my parents home, and now all I see in this town is sadness. I had half a mind to take the next plane home. In six weeks, I’ll be free. I’ll never have to come back (well maybe i’ll graduate).

I spent the last few months after the breakup staying at home watching my trashy shows while cuddling my pup. I completely put everything out of my mind. Gave the dating thing a try too. But how much does this limbo suck? I feel like over the last three years I’ve got so bad at it. But then again, I never thought I would be back in this position. Tell me how I’m suppose to focus on UC when I’m filled with feelings of self-hatred mixed with hope for my future? What does that even mean, you ask? There are no words. Its almost like sitting completely still while chills are running down your spine. Like you can’t move almost like you’re going to stop breathing at any moment. I hope no one every has this feeling.

Enough of my ramblings. Back to work.

[fortitude-my-weakness-blog]

December the Nineteenth

Forty-eight days.

Its been forty-eight days since I found my voice, and the numbness is still here. I would say heartbroken, but I don’t even know where my heart is these days. I lost it somewhere along the way, and my best guess is that it’s somewhere on the east coast. The long texts don’t help, but honestly, a part of me didn’t want them to stop. I hate that you’re in pain, but I love that I was wrong about you not fighting for me. Although, whether it was fighting for me or making excuses, I can’t tell anymore.

I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that it hurts so much. I’m so sorry that it didn’t work. That wasn’t my intention. I wanted to do as little damage as possible. In hindsight, a clean break was never in the cards for us. I hate that I can’t respond to you and tell you how much I want to say to hell with it all and run back to you.  Screw everyone and everything that stands in our way. The truth is, I’m weak. You occupy every single thought of my day. When my mom and I got into a fight, and she yelled get out, my first thought was to hop on a plane to Boston and not come back. That was only two weeks ago. You started texting me shortly after, and I knew I would’ve crawled back to your arms in a heartbeat. I lay awake at night, making up different scenarios in my head that would make our relationship justified again, like running off together to a small village in Italy where I’m the town doctor and we could live in a small cottage on the coast and never have to see anyone from here ever again. I don’t even think about my career anymore. I go on these interviews with no hope or passion for life. I love what I do, but I can’t see that clear path to my future anymore. I feel so much emptiness these day. Waking up every morning somehow feels like both a blessing and a curse. But at least the dreams have stopped now. I’ve never just felt nothing before. I don’t know if these are close to the feels you have, but if they are, I’m truly sorry for not being more understanding in the past.

The text that you sent was the most passion I’ve seen from you about our relationship, Even though it came from a dark place, it was refreshing to see how important I was to you. You need to know that I needed to hear that. I know that we were in a comfortable part of our relationship where maybe it should have been understood, but I kept feeling like I was slipping through the cracks. The things with your cousin, I tried to be very understanding. But you don’t understand how it feels when your own boyfriend puts another woman on a pedestal like that. Yes, it was irrational for me to think you were in love with your cousin, but it was perfectly rational to feel inferior to someone who you put in an entirely different league. She was more beautiful than me, when she drank alcohol it was cute, but when I did it, I was an alcoholic. Always telling me how she could eat a whole cake in one sitting and not get fat, while knowing how hard my weight struggles have been. While you never used the word “fat,” it was still fat-shaming me none the less. I know you said you had to keep me in check because you lived with me and not her, but that didn’t make it less painful. How was I ever suppose to be more important that her in your mind? God knows, you never listened to a word I said, but with her it was like god spoke to you himself. And you’re absolutely right, you handled things incredibly poorly with me and your family. I deserved to be fought for. I understand that it wasn’t a good time for you and I tried to wait. But honestly, there never would’ve been a good time to fight your family. And from my perspective, I wasn’t sure you ever would. From my point of view, there were always excuses: step, md/phd, “I already know my mom doesn’t like you,” not telling your cousin the right thing, telling your cousin the wrong thing, etc. And as time went on, my family and friends even told me that it was incredibly unusual, even for a boy from a traditional Telugu family to wait over three years.  I did my best to ignore them and tell my self that the circumstances were different. But the seed of doubt had been planted sometime back, and all these little signs since then had only made it grow. I started to wonder more frequently whether or not I’d be one of those girls in a long-term, commitment-less relationship.

If that wasn’t bad enough you dropped everything and left for Boston. Something I could never understand was how your entire career was hanging in the balance and you just up and leave before things were resolved. Maybe that’s what anxiety does, but I couldn’t understand why you would rather fail out of medical school than take one exam. I always justified it with the thought that maybe you didn’t want to do medicine. I was hoping you would eventually tell me that you wanted to explore another career path, but I never knew if you would get there. To this day, I would advise some introspection as to whether its truly your dream or if it is someone else’s dream for you. I don’t mean this in an insensitive way, but if you ever find the words to explain this, please do. I genuinely want to understand how you think. I know it’s probably no use to me anymore, but the insight would help put things in perspective.  When you told me that you were leaving for Boston, I was terrified and feeling helpless. Terrified for you and for our relationship. I know you left for Austin after we had that fight, but you left your responsibility there too. I was counting on you for my car and you left the keys with some random guy i barely knew.  Granted, he turned out to be a good guy, but still. I couldn’t believe you did that. I was waiting outside your house in the summer heat for 30 minutes because you “didn’t want to talk” to tell me you left for Austin. It was infuriating. All I could think about at the time was how you called me “unstable” during MS1 for flying back home spontaneously one weekend. But you were going through a tough time, so i backed down and pretended like everything was okay the next time we talked. Eventually I forgot about it like I usually did with our problems.

Also, I know you think you lost me over one argument, but it wasn’t just that. This argument was the final straw for me. I knew this because I grew tired of fighting for our relationship. I was finally just plain tired of being the only one left fighting for us. I couldn’t convince you to stay and work out things with the medical school, I couldn’t convince you to study for step when you where in Boston, I couldn’t convince you to continue the therapy and medications. I couldn’t convince you to tell your family about me. I couldn’t convince you to come meet with my parents to talk strategy. What was the use? We weren’t partners in a relationship anymore, I felt like your companion. Like someone you talked to when you were bored or distracted. I mean, for god sake, we weren’t even physical anymore. But if I get into that, I could write a book about the inadequacies I felt there, which is seemingly the least important. 

Please know that I don’t regret what I did. Breaking up is what you’re suppose to do when a relationship is not healthy anymore. I question, though, whether or not I would take an unhealthy relationship with you over no relationship with you. I know that today, my mind wanders to the days where I imagined waking up next to you every day for the rest of my life. But if I think hard enough, I can remember all the dark thoughts too. I remember locking myself in your bathroom or hiding out in the garage to sob loudly when you would say something rude or insensitive that I didn’t want to bother you with. I remember that after our last fight, thinking that if we did get married, would you get angry and leave? Would you ever come back? Would you leave me a single mother? A widow? What if I got postpartum depression and you couldn’t handle it? or what if I fell ill for any reason? Would you be a capable father then? What if when I’m 50, I can’t lose the weight? Are you going to hate me one day? There were so many horrifying questions that I wish I wasn’t asking myself. I know our relationship was a lot of work, and I loathe myself for not being able to handle it. I wish you had listened to me about the medication. I know it was scary and the side effects sucked, but I saw such an improvement. You were less angry (at least towards me) and I couldn’t believe how well we were doing. Oh well. One last thing, I know that you wanted me to tell you I didn’t love you. I think you know very well that that’s not true. I gave in to you that day because you were scaring me. By your definition of love (someone who is there for support through the hard times) I guess you’re right and logically i wouldn’t be in love with you. But the truth is I was there through some of it. But I also don’t believe that loving someone is enough of a reason to stay, especially when there is so much pain.

I’d like to think that in another place and another time we’ll find our way back to each other. I do think we’re soulmates, but like we once talked about, there are multiple soulmates out there for each person. If there’s a way back, I really hope we find it.

[fortitude-my-weakness-blog]

August the First.

Today started out okay. I was okay on rounds, got done early and even got a workout in. Even talking was going so well. He responded every time today, no matter how small or dumb. Progress, I thought. Finally progress. Then, like clockwork, it happened. One thought and he shut down.

“I don’t feel like talking.”

What a statement. So simple, yet wrought with a devastating truth: I did this to him. I made him sad. Again. You know what I said? “But at some point you can stop being mean to yourself. You are too hard on your own mind.” I was so angry that he was sad, but looking back, maybe it wasn’t in my place to say. I was wrong and again, I’m sobbing my eyes out while my heart is stabbing at my chest wall. Takotsubo, it has to be. Maybe my heart is still on holiday, who knows. I know I can’t understand what he going through, but how do I just be? I’m a problem solver and he has a problem. I can’t fix a battle in someone’s mind. So why do I bother? Why do I stay? My rational mind is screaming, bloody nails dug into the lid of the coffin I’ve buried it in. My limbic system stifled the bell. 

A simple text will end this. He would never fight back, never tell me to stay. The darkness in his mind is telling him he doesn’t deserve me, that I’m better off without him. He can’t tell me he loves me because the darkness tells him that bad people don’t get to be happy. It stopped bothering me when I could see it in his eyes, through his actions. But now how will I know? He packed up and left, because that’s what he needs. He loves me but he can’t, not really. So I ask again, why do I stay? If this is the beginning of stress induced cardiomyopathy, it would be a fitting end.

I’m in one of the most important times of my life, but all I can do is feel numb, like I’m standing in tar. No moving forward or backward, but just watching silently while the world still turns on its axis. God forbid, I express a feeling. He can’t handle it. He would just tell me to move on with my life, and that he would come back to me when he’s better. Can he do that? Isn’t that the epitome of selfishness? Perhaps that’s the nature of the disease. Funny how the same tiny molecules that make up a being and give him life, can destroy him just the same way.

Why would God throw this wrench in my path?  Every pooja, I prayed. Every eyelash, I wished. I knocked on wood. Every. Single. Time. We should’ve been happy. I was. He was. Sometimes. I think. Why did this happen to me? How could this happen to me?