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Thursday, May 21, 2015

Betrayal.

Ohai, big ol' white space that should contain words, but doesn't. The truth is, I've written this post about four times this week, and deleted it just as many. At the start of today, I was convinced that I wasn't going to blog about this at all because it falls in to that category of topic that I just don't know how to cope with but hey: Christie was cheated on.

Though it could have been worse. His betrayal was strictly online, and although he could have physically slept with another opposed to doing it online, in my mind, Christie was cheated on.
I won't share the gory details, because I'm so very disinterested in re-living those few disgusting weeks for the ten-zillionth time this hour. So, I've been a little MIA on the ol' blogaroo of late, and I'd like to apologise. But that's the thing about betrayal. It consumes you.

I got my heart broken over the weekend by the one person I trusted and it was quite possibly the most I've hurt in a really, really long time. I think that betrayal is up there as one of the most painful human experiences. It's a given that this person cares about us, respects us, and wouldn’t dream of hurting us, especially intentionally. When a person you’ve trusted suddenly undermines you, your world is turned upside down. When the only person you've trusted suddenly undermines you, well you can go ahead and multiply those feelings by ten billion and you're about half way to the hurt that's going on inside me right now.

In true Christie fashion, I got mad. Super fucking mad. Because how could he do this?!
See, I'm backwards. When I grieve, rather than feeling sad, I get angry first. Because pain is pain. Suffering sucks. And people who inflicted it deserved to die in the most excruciating way possible and I haven't been even remotely successful in holding myself together. Vodka has become my very bestest friend; Because alcohol is more fun than feelings. Food has become my enemy; Because my stomach won't stop heaving. I've been musically abusing myself; Because I get a strange enjoyment out of listening to songs that will send burning pain into my soul.


I'll do almost anything to avoid sitting with grief because it's so consuming, so exhausting, so bottomless. I mean, why grieve when I can watch 40 episodes of 90210 in one sitting? Why grieve when there's at least two bottles of Vodka left on my nightstand? Why grieve when there's endless cat videos to watch? Why grieve when you can self-destruct the hurt away?
Because grief isn't fucking going anywhere. That's why. Dulling the pain only pushes grief into the shadows. It waits beneath the anger and anxiety and once the cocktail of alcohol and pills have worn off, it's all that you have left.

 Sure I am functional. If by functional you mean my hangover doesn't prevent me from getting out of bed and chucking on some eyeliner, all to auto-pilot through my day before I get to come home and do it all again. Yup. Fun-ctional. Perhaps "fun" is too much to expect of anyone going through the pain of infidelity. Definitely.

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It has been four days since I wrote the paragraphs above this one. Four whole days this post has sat untouched. Four days down the track, the rage and disgust have subsided - ever so slightly, and have made way for the oh-so fun pain stage. I'd, in all honesty, rather stay unbelievably angry than to feel the way I feel right now. At least the anger makes me feel in control of my emotions, this debilitating sadness is crippling. After all, it's hard to feel perfect when he's looking at you with mascara all down your face, shaking uncontrollably in a pair of old trackies and a hoodie, convinced that he cheated because there was something wrong with YOU. Because surely she is hotter, smarter, funnier, sexier, more spontaneous than the pathetic, sobbing ball you crumpled in to.

When I woke up from my attempted night's sleep this morning, I noticed something stirring inside me that wasn't there before. It wasn't until about lunchtime that I realised that letting go of some anger and allowing myself to be sad had made way for compassion. Compassion for myself. If I'd messed up in the past, I beat myself up. If one thing went awry, I'd blame myself. I knew no other way but to hide behind my tough girl act. Instead, I began to praise myself. I gave myself kudos for getting up and going to work each day. I patted myself on the back for not murdering anyone. I congratulated myself for having kept myself alive. And I feel better.
Because this was not my fault.

I find myself falling it to the classic "once a cheater..." frame of mind because my friends, the single, cynical people they are believe that with every fibre of their being and it's been pounded in to me from day one. I never liked to believe it. I've always liked to think that people can change if they want to yet every time I think I can forgive, that phrase comes rushing in to my mind. And I don't even mean it. It's like a defence mechanism of the brain, because it doesn't want to go through it all over again. People have moved on from these situations together and have eventually come out happy on the other end. I hate this. I hate what it's done to us. But it also has the potential to pull us closer. If he truly proves himself, if enough effort is put forth, if he works his ass off to gain my trust and forgiveness, we can move forward. I will never trust the same, but we can move forward.

I've struggled with all of this decision making, because I kept worrying about what everyone would think. What would they have to say about my forgiving him after his actions? It disappoints me to admit because I know it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. All that matters is true happiness and if he can demonstrate the patience and expend the energy to fight for an 'us', to make me feel like the only one again, to prove he truly loves me the way he claims, then you're sure as hell I'll take true happiness with the one I've always thought of as 'soulmate'.

It's going to be a long-ass road ahead but I'm choosing to take the leap of faith and give him the chance to fix this. Here's to hoping.

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