Facing the Past: Part 3

Posted on | April 8, 2009 | 3 Comments

Good bye.

My Ex Lovers Flowers: Carnations ©Sarah Marie Lacy. 16x20 acrylic on canvas, $900.00

I can’t find you,
Dearest love,
Where have you gone?
Hidden away
Behind some great
Rock,
Smirking, smug at
Your clever camouflage.
Mocking, taunting
With your cries of
Caring.
You don’t care.
And I know it.
But I believe you anyway,
Because I want to.
I want to pretend
That somebody cares.
But I will not cry,
Nor shock and scream
When you leave.
And leave you will.

This relationship taught me that to be loved is to be shamed, guilted and torn apart inside.

All the while I was depressed and struggling with my life collapsing around me, I was also in a co-dependent and oftentimes, emotionally abusive relationship. It took me what seemed like ages to let go, to move on, and I clung to what I thought was our love.

Then one day, I woke up and realized that it was never really love at all.

Some people insisted after it was all over that he really did love me, that he really did try. The only thing I had to say to that? If that was love, then I never, ever want to be loved again.

I gave up my soul for that relationship. I gave myself away. I became a ghost of myself, in an attempt to become the perfect girlfriend, the perfect future wife. We were going to get married, and live happily ever after in a white clapboard house down the street from his parents, with a picket fence, 2.5 kids, 2 dogs and maybe a cat if I was really, really, really good. But I’d have to be super good.

To him, it was heaven. To me, it was hell.

I don’t want children. I want 12 cats. I want a herd of alpacas. I want some rambling, old, kinda-run-down-but-full-of-character house in a place that isn’t my hometown. I want to travel the world, meet new people, do exciting new things, and experience as much of life as I possibly can.

None of that mattered though. I don’t 100% blame him – I let it happen. I ignored my own dreams and needs to fulfill his instead. I allowed myself to be miserable.

I thought that was all I deserved. I mean, I was the sick girl. At least he loved me right? And he never let me forget it – “You’re already sick and I have to deal with that. I don’t want to have to deal with you being upset and having emotions too.”

Ahh, right. Sorry. I’ll just have those removed then. I will just become your perfect little robot. I don’t look enough like the girls in your Playboys? You think I need breast implants? Okay baby, no problem. You think I’m too skinny and too fat at the same time? No problem, baby, I’ll just go get a new body.

I will just annihilate everything about me to become perfect for you.

I am ashamed of this time of my life

For 10 months, I lost every ounce of self respect I had. I’m still not sure if I’ve made peace with that. It reached a point where I no longer recognized myself in the mirror. I did not know that girl looking out at me.

That’s a very scary thing.

I was a stranger to myself. Who was this person who let someone walk all over her? Who was this person that lost her self respect somewhere on the road behind her? Who was this girl who cried herself to sleep every night, but would defend to the death the person hurting her the most?

I used him to fill a hole. I used him to fill up the loneliness, to give me purpose. I was convinced that I couldn’t have my dreams anymore, that my life meant absolutely nothing. So I gave it to him.

How much was my fault and how much was his fault? I’m still not sure. But whatever mistakes I made, it cannot excuse his behaviour, nor vice versa. I learned that life was a two way street, but I also learned that not everything was my fault. No matter how much self respect I lost, it doesn’t excuse his treatment of me as an object. He was never listening, never paying attention.

But then, I never expected him to. I was there to fill up his holes just as much as he was there to fill up mine. He just had less delusions than I did – when I was used up, too much trouble, too much bother, he went on to find a new band aid. I hung on.

Then one day, I let go. And instead of looking for a new band aid, I decided to go looking for myself.

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Welcome to my blog! This is the place where I give my thoughts free range. Kind of like chickens. I'm usually rambling on about life and art and healing and the incredibly silly things I sometimes do. And sometimes an alpaca or two shows up.

Want to contact me? You can email me at sarah (at) smlacyart (dot) com!

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