Breaking to Rebuild

When everything fell apart, I finally saw the truth — and now, I have to face it.

The Weight of Emotions

Lots of emotions today. I know you’re coming to collect furniture tomorrow, and I’m planning to dismantle things for you. I hope you don’t take it the wrong way, as if I’m being bitter or pissed off — nothing could be further from the truth. I know you’re hurting really badly. I am too. I’m absolutely distraught, but I feel I’m in a much better place than I was last week and in the build-up to my attempt on my life.

I’m so scared that you can’t see me in your memories anymore — just a vision of how ugly I was as I spiraled, how pathetic and useless and frustrated I felt. Did I project that onto you? Yes. Did I knowingly do it? No. I just hope you can see I’m still here. I’m still fighting this torment.

Taking Accountability

When I look back, I just see pain on both sides, and I take full accountability for every single part I played in it — whether I was suffering or not, in control of my actions or not, the way I acted in fear when I went into survival mode, the things I said, whether they were meant or just said out of spite. I hold my hands up for everything I did.

I’m struggling today. We haven’t spoken. Are the outside influences helping you in a positive way, or are they helping you in a way that rips me apart, telling you how awful I am, that you should never get back with me? They don’t know the full dynamics of things. That’s why I’m trying to untangle this mess through words — where I went wrong, what I could have done in those moments to change those moments, what I could have done in the heat of battle to suppress the fears even for just 10 seconds so I could act rationally and not like a lunatic.

The Things I Said, The Things I Didn’t

God knows I tried so hard to not say certain things or act in certain ways. I was shouting at myself from the inside, but the bad always came out.

But I will learn from this.

I know I’ve mentioned little things before — maybe a whimper for help. I know you offered to go with me. I know you kept telling me to get help. It wasn’t that I wasn’t listening, and it wasn’t pure defiance or stubbornness. It was thinking I could still pull through, that I was strong enough. But I see now how wrong I was.

And then this just triggered something I said before.

I can’t remember the exact situations, but I’m guessing it was only in heated or negative ones where I’d say things that actually set off alarm bells as I write this. Things like, You wouldn’t care if anything happened to me. Would you even care if I died tomorrow? You wouldn’t care if the plane I’m on crashed.

Fear, Trauma, and Looking for Answers

Probably the wrong time to say those things and in the wrong way — not that those things should be said at all. But there were ways we could have fixed that — well, mostly on my part. I could have come to you at a neutral time and said, I have these feelings. They always come out at these times in these situations, and they project out. I don’t mean them. It’s just my fear and insecurities. I think you would have understood then. But I was so scared to open up in case the cycle started again.

I thought you never cared, but when I look back now, it’s so evident that you did. That you loved me with every part of you. But I couldn’t fully give myself to you. Fuck, I wanted to so much, but it just wouldn’t come out.

And now I realise — I always said we should never leave the house on bad terms, that we should always say goodbye because we never know what’s going to happen. Was that because of my dad? The way he just went that night and ended his life? We never said goodbye. Did I say those things because of that?

I don’t have the answers.

The Pain of Letting Go

As I start clearing things — things you requested via a third party — it’s really hitting home. I’m struggling. Will I see you again? Will we speak? Will we lay it all on the table for closure or to remain friends? Take things slow as we rebuild? I don’t know how you’ll react to any of it.

Will you still think I had a long-distance emotional affair if you heard the truth — not some distorted version, but the actual, real truth? Why didn’t I try to tell you? Is it because you had this thought in your head, and I knew anything I said would just validate what you already believed? So I sat on it. I waited. I waited for the right time to say, I’m sorry for everything in the last year. I wanted to empty my heart. I wanted nothing more than to sort this.

Breaking to Rebuild

But honestly? I think my brain had just shut down. I was all over the place, struggling to even do basic everyday things. And when I did get the courage, when I was preparing myself to open up — you’d hit me with a message saying you were leaving, that you couldn’t do this. I know I can’t choose when your feelings come out, but I guess it’s better than holding them in like me.

It felt like I couldn’t say what I wanted to. Like anything I said would just be seen as an excuse to keep you from leaving. So again, I said nothing. And reacted out of survival mode.

But I know one thing — no condition, no situation, no illness can touch what I hold inside for you. The love in my heart is raw, and it is pure. Please know that.

Moving Forward

I needed to break. I needed to break so my mind would finally, after years, give up the fight. That had to happen for me to learn. If it didn’t, I believe it would have got worse, and I would have tried again.

Now, as I dismantle the furniture, I remember putting it up together. I remember sitting in glue. But I also remember I was going through a shit time — stress at work, panic attacks. You knew about these then. You were trying to help me take my mind off it by building these things together.

I just hope, one day, we can talk again.

Call to Action:

If you’re battling demons in silence, if your fears are driving away the people you love — don’t wait until you break. Talk to someone. Own your struggles. Get the help you need before it’s too late. Because healing starts when you stop running from yourself.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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