Late Wednesday night, or by technicality, early Valentine's Day morning, my boyfriend and I got into an argument after he had asked if I was using again. I answered honestly. I said 'yes'. His reaction was most definitely negative; both hurt and angered that I had lied to him about being clean. He said that if I truly loved him like I said I did, I wouldn't choose to lie to him OR use... He's never been addicted to a thing in his life, so I tried to explain that it wasn't as cut and dry as he seemed to think. I was drunk, he was being passive aggressive, resulting in my extreme defensiveness, especially after coming clean with him and feeling ashamed and vulnerable. He ended up saying that I must be imagining my love for him, because there's no possible way I could feel it and act as I did in hiding my addiction with him. At that point, I went from upset to angry. I shoved his Valentine's Day gift in his hands and told him to get the hell out of my apartment, where I think proceeded to ensue on a three day long binge, where I consumed barely any food or water, and didn't sleep at all.
The only communication I had with him was via text message. By the time Saturday night had ended, he had only replied once, thanking me for a long message I had written, and that he needed some time to think about everything. He said that he had been crying almost constantly. My long message to him basically explained that it was entirely my problem and had nothing to do with him. I didn't use to hurt him, and didn't lie with intentions of deceiving him. I just wanted him to be happy, so I hid that nasty part of myself that I knew he wouldn't enjoy. I wanted to be perfect. I apologized.
He finally responded again on Sunday morning (today), with "I don't like this anymore than you. I hate it. I just really don't know what to do." With that, I asked him to be there for me, and that I realized that I can't take this on alone. I wanted to get clean, and I explained why. He asked if he could come over to talk about it. With some hesitation, I said yes, even though I was positive he would be coming to officially end our relationship.
At this point, I hadn't slept the night before, hadn't eaten all day, and frankly looked like shit. I scrambled to wash my face, brush my teeth, and look somewhat less haggard. When he walked in, he was silent. Just walked up to me on the couch, sat next to me, then sighed and embraced me. We held each other for several hours, mostly crying and holding on as tightly as we could. He told me how much he missed me, and that he couldn't soak up enough of me. And then something really pivotal happened... we have been together for 9 months, and he had still not told me that he loved me. I have said it for a couple of months now, but it isn't a common occurrence by any means. He lifted my chin so we were looking eye to eye, and he said, "I do." I looked at him, questioning, and he repeated himself. Upon realizing what he meant, I started sobbing. He continued, "I do love you. And I have for a while now. I've just been too scared to say it until now. How do I tell someone I love them when I have to trust that they'll take care of that love?"
At this point we were both crying, embraced, kissing away each others tears. He said, "I've never once doubted your love for me. I know that has always been pure. I know you've never meant to hurt me. I love you so much." And for the first time, I got to reply with a very emotional, 'I love you, too'.
Our next bit of conversation was his observations about me the last couple of weeks. He said that he noticed I had been depressed (even more than usual), and noticed that I was sending him a lot of old photos. I didn't notice that I was, but looking back on it now, I agree. He thinks that because I've been struggling emotionally since I am so thin, I felt like I needed to remind him of how I "used" to look. "You're just as sexy now as you used to be. You're beautiful. I'm attracted to the outside and the inside of you."
He continued, "You're going to have to do this for YOU, 100%. Not me. You don't use to get high. You use as a way to punish yourself. I hate that you hate yourself. I wish you could see in you what I see. I've never been ashamed or embarrassed of you. I would walk down any street with you proudly on my arm." We both started crying again. And he's right. I see it now. My remarkably low self-esteem and self-hate have launched me into a cycle of abuse that i'm fully aware is killing me, only to make myself suffer for a reason I'm not aware of quite yet. He told me how amazingly proud he was of me for telling some of my friends and for reaching out for help. "But you need to want this 100%. You can't keep going on this cycle, or it's going to kill you. I can't keep doing this. I'm going to support you no matter what, but I'm not sure if us being together right now is a healthy thing for you. Or us."
At that point, I pleaded that I would get therapy and sober up entirely for myself and just asked that he trust me. And at that point, he asked how he could trust me at that point? I cried harder, thinking about going at this battle alone. He held my body, weak and exhausted, soaked in tears. I cried for almost an hour. He was kissing me all over my head and neck, trying to cheer me up or merely showing affection, saying he couldn't kiss me enough. Kissing led to passionate making out, which led to a very emotional sexual romp, which included us orgasming simultaneously and crying while holding each other. After the sex, he noticed I was trembling and my heart was racing. He made me drink some water and the look on his face was so sad it made me want to look away so he couldn't see me in that condition. I asked him to be strong for me. He said he didn't know if he was strong enough.
(Have we cried enough yet?)
We ate a quick dinner as he had to leave for work (he works at a bar). He told me he had a million things rushing through his head and he still needed to think things through (my assumption it being mainly on the issue of staying together while I am recovering). I couldn't muster any words, just nodded. He kissed my forehead and left.
And now I'm here, sitting alone in my apartment. I turned on my music and the song that happened to pop up was Bright Eyes, "First Day of My Life". I thought it remarkably fitting, so I sent the lyrics along to my love. He has yet to respond, but I doubt he will. The last 6 hours he and I went through were remarkably draining but also in a positive direction.
The only communication I had with him was via text message. By the time Saturday night had ended, he had only replied once, thanking me for a long message I had written, and that he needed some time to think about everything. He said that he had been crying almost constantly. My long message to him basically explained that it was entirely my problem and had nothing to do with him. I didn't use to hurt him, and didn't lie with intentions of deceiving him. I just wanted him to be happy, so I hid that nasty part of myself that I knew he wouldn't enjoy. I wanted to be perfect. I apologized.
He finally responded again on Sunday morning (today), with "I don't like this anymore than you. I hate it. I just really don't know what to do." With that, I asked him to be there for me, and that I realized that I can't take this on alone. I wanted to get clean, and I explained why. He asked if he could come over to talk about it. With some hesitation, I said yes, even though I was positive he would be coming to officially end our relationship.
At this point, I hadn't slept the night before, hadn't eaten all day, and frankly looked like shit. I scrambled to wash my face, brush my teeth, and look somewhat less haggard. When he walked in, he was silent. Just walked up to me on the couch, sat next to me, then sighed and embraced me. We held each other for several hours, mostly crying and holding on as tightly as we could. He told me how much he missed me, and that he couldn't soak up enough of me. And then something really pivotal happened... we have been together for 9 months, and he had still not told me that he loved me. I have said it for a couple of months now, but it isn't a common occurrence by any means. He lifted my chin so we were looking eye to eye, and he said, "I do." I looked at him, questioning, and he repeated himself. Upon realizing what he meant, I started sobbing. He continued, "I do love you. And I have for a while now. I've just been too scared to say it until now. How do I tell someone I love them when I have to trust that they'll take care of that love?"
At this point we were both crying, embraced, kissing away each others tears. He said, "I've never once doubted your love for me. I know that has always been pure. I know you've never meant to hurt me. I love you so much." And for the first time, I got to reply with a very emotional, 'I love you, too'.
Our next bit of conversation was his observations about me the last couple of weeks. He said that he noticed I had been depressed (even more than usual), and noticed that I was sending him a lot of old photos. I didn't notice that I was, but looking back on it now, I agree. He thinks that because I've been struggling emotionally since I am so thin, I felt like I needed to remind him of how I "used" to look. "You're just as sexy now as you used to be. You're beautiful. I'm attracted to the outside and the inside of you."
He continued, "You're going to have to do this for YOU, 100%. Not me. You don't use to get high. You use as a way to punish yourself. I hate that you hate yourself. I wish you could see in you what I see. I've never been ashamed or embarrassed of you. I would walk down any street with you proudly on my arm." We both started crying again. And he's right. I see it now. My remarkably low self-esteem and self-hate have launched me into a cycle of abuse that i'm fully aware is killing me, only to make myself suffer for a reason I'm not aware of quite yet. He told me how amazingly proud he was of me for telling some of my friends and for reaching out for help. "But you need to want this 100%. You can't keep going on this cycle, or it's going to kill you. I can't keep doing this. I'm going to support you no matter what, but I'm not sure if us being together right now is a healthy thing for you. Or us."
At that point, I pleaded that I would get therapy and sober up entirely for myself and just asked that he trust me. And at that point, he asked how he could trust me at that point? I cried harder, thinking about going at this battle alone. He held my body, weak and exhausted, soaked in tears. I cried for almost an hour. He was kissing me all over my head and neck, trying to cheer me up or merely showing affection, saying he couldn't kiss me enough. Kissing led to passionate making out, which led to a very emotional sexual romp, which included us orgasming simultaneously and crying while holding each other. After the sex, he noticed I was trembling and my heart was racing. He made me drink some water and the look on his face was so sad it made me want to look away so he couldn't see me in that condition. I asked him to be strong for me. He said he didn't know if he was strong enough.
(Have we cried enough yet?)
We ate a quick dinner as he had to leave for work (he works at a bar). He told me he had a million things rushing through his head and he still needed to think things through (my assumption it being mainly on the issue of staying together while I am recovering). I couldn't muster any words, just nodded. He kissed my forehead and left.
And now I'm here, sitting alone in my apartment. I turned on my music and the song that happened to pop up was Bright Eyes, "First Day of My Life". I thought it remarkably fitting, so I sent the lyrics along to my love. He has yet to respond, but I doubt he will. The last 6 hours he and I went through were remarkably draining but also in a positive direction.
