I believe I should preface this with some explanation. My flatmate/best friend is my ex. No two ways about it, it’s an odd dynamic. We were terrible as partners, but great as friends. At least that’s how it appears, but I may be totally wrong. An outsider’s perspective would be great, but there’s nobody around whose opinion I trust, who is completely outside the situation.
This has been going on for quite some time, and all I’ve been doing is bottling it up, letting it simmer, or waiting for someone to answer the questions they don’t know anything about. But I think I’m finally starting to crack. I can feel my fuse getting shorter. Things that wouldn’t normally irritate me have now become part of either a silent or, occasionally, loud reaction. Example – normally, if someone was watching a video (volume on, no headphones) on YouTube or TikTok while I was playing a game or reading something I’d just shrug it off. Now, it just makes me angry. Or the fact that if my flatmate and I go out somewhere, and take her car, and won’t change the music from a certain band (which I despise with a passion). Yeah okay, it’s her car, but have a little respect for the others who are in it because I know not everybody likes my taste in music, and if I’m driving with someone else in the car, I’ll change it out of respect for other people. And “our” playlist for road trips. There’s a lot of shit I don’t like on the list that was supposed to be “ours” – rap etc (which, again, I don’t like. I believe it’s talentless). But, funnily enough, none of my stuff, except for one song. Everything else is either mutual likes or hers. I’m not allowed to skip her songs, but if there’s something I like and want to listen to, it can be skipped. And that pisses me off. I’m getting more and more frustrated with everything being “[insert band name here] this and [insert band here] that”. I don’t care. She knows I don’t care, but it seems to just seems to be the only thing worth talking about.
Self-esteem, confidence and self-image is through the floor. I know I’m about 35kg overweight. And I am trying to, for a start, eat better. All that seems to be happening is weight increase. It is depressing, and I feel that I am most likely sinking into the realm of actually being diagnosed with depression, and that scares the shit out of me. I know everyone has low periods sometimes, but this seems to be getting worse and worse, longer and longer and more frequent. I absolutely hate asking for help, I’m sure that it’s all to do with upbringing from my less-than-caring father. He is an absolute wanker – didn’t pay any attention to anything I was doing unless I was in trouble (more on that below). And got no recognition for any achievements. He also used me as a meal ticket – turning up to people’s places around mealtimes, sometimes maybe an hour earlier, and then expect to be fed, only because he had me with him, and everyone feels sorry for a hungry child. After his heart attack, I went down to Wellington to visit him after not speaking to him for three years. I called in to a friend of his to pick up his phone and charger, and I was told “I don’t blame you for walking out when you did. He treated you like shit or as an excuse for free things. After you left, people started seeing him for what he was – a martyr. He harped on and on about how his ‘son just up and left, doesn’t know why and now he won’t talk to me etc.’ Good on you for realising what was going on, and nobody felt sorry for him, they felt sorry for you.” Even now our relationship is strained. It’s not often I will go out of my way to make contact. He will turn up out of the blue some days, and I’m really not interested in talking to him. We have no common interests at all, and all he talks about is his bowls tournaments and where he goes. I actually have to volunteer anything I’ve been doing because he flat out doesn’t ask. And anything positive always gets a response in reference to my past when I was a bit of kleptomaniac when I was a child. Growing up, the only attention I ever got from him was if I did something bad, then he wouldn’t let it go. Anything positive, didn’t even get an acknowledgement. Example: I received an award at primary school – top of the class or something similar, the certificate was immediately chucked in a drawer and forgotten about. Also, in primary school, I got in trouble for hitting another student – and it was the main talking point amongst him and his ‘friends’ for over a month. Mostly I think he just doesn’t care. But I digress. To quote a certain science-fiction film – “I know what I need to do, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.” I need help. And I wouldn’t even know where to start. Seeking professional advice is something I need to do, but then begins the next step – what if I’m stuck taking pills for the rest of my life. I don’t want to have the same experience my mother has – only just after retirement age and dying, on 30 different medications for various ailments. In my mind, starting out with one medication will just start a chain reaction of needing another type of medication and another and another until the day I end up on 65 different meds and just becoming a walking pharmacy.
My flatmate’s continual hot-and-cold of “you need to find a girlfriend” and then acting like she never said it, ignoring it. “I’m working on setting you up with someone, so shush”. Who? She mentioned once, in passing, she thinks a certain person would be good for me. How? She’s just as, if not more, socially awkward and socially anxious as I am. That would be such a great first date (sense the sarcasm?). Also mentioned, in the same conversation I might add, “she’s a bit younger than you, so maybe not” – she’s the same age as my other flatmate’s girlfriend – he’s 34, she’s 23. How is this an issue? Not that age matters anyway. Mixed messages much? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve kind-of met her before, and she seems pretty nice, and I’d like to get to know her better, and hopefully make up my own mind, but as above, I believe the term is “crippling social anxiety” which is putting me on edge so much. Adding on to this is the belief that nobody actually cares about me, and that who could like, much less love, a fat, worthless slob who has nothing going for him?
I’m nearing 30. Eight months away from it. A lot of people my age that I went to school with, grew up with and have worked with – they’ve got great careers, married or long-term relationships. Those who aren’t gay (there are a few, and a couple of them are some very close friends), a lot of them have children or are close to it. Their lives are great. What do I have? I have $29,000 of debt. An admittedly low-skilled career (but this is starting to take a turn for the better with a leadership-level appointment). No truly meaningful romantic relationships for a very long time, coming up 3 years.
An interesting(?) aside, one of my oldest friends, who is married with three children, is showing a romantic interest in me again. First off, a little bit of history – we were in high school together, a couple of years apart. We had sex occasionally through these years and in the few years between, until we gradually drifted apart into other relationships. It was always a casual thig and no strings. We had the urge, we did it, then that would be it until the next time, but we have always had a very close friendship. After a while of not really talking, but just knowing she’s always at the other end of the phone if needed, I get this message saying “I’m getting married.” I was excited and happy for her, as I am one of the few people who knew the extent of the abuse from her previous relationship. We still talk casually and still have the strong friendship going. After a few months, she drops the bombshell: after a lot of introspective thought and wrestling with emotions, she is not just in an open marriage, but is polyamorous. This isn’t my first experience with someone poly – one of my best friends’ sisters is polyamorous, and I was her Kiwi fling when she was over from Australia for her brother’s wedding. I’m so torn about this because I’ll always love my friend. Not necessarily romantically, but as someone who is so close friends. One evening, she was having a rough time, and I invited her over to where I was out having a quiet couple of drinks so she could vent. We spent the better part of 2 hours kissing and fondling, ending up in a brief oral session from her. And since then, she’s been, shall we say, awkward. As in, maybe she wasn’t telling the full truth. I’m not 100% sure. And it’s driving me nuts. I want to see if it would happen again, just to see whether I was under the influence of alcohol more than I thought, or whether this is something that will happen every time we are alone. I’m leaning towards the latter, because it has happened before, but well before she was married.
The next issue is my mother. She’s doing my head in. She’s 68 and in pretty poor health, for the lack of a better term. Diabetes, COPD, two strokes (2007 and 2014), heart attack (2012), congestive heart failure (unsure how long for. Was only made aware of it around Christmas but I’m sure it’s been a condition for a while) and she’s on (what appears to be) 500 different medications. She’s been hospitalised at least four times in the last 3 months, and each time, due to a fall. And why is she falling? Blood sugars going through the floor. Even in hospital last week the doctors and nurses are having problems stabilising her glucose level. And then I get told (not by her) that she effectively discharged herself on Friday after 11 days in and still not great. She’s now continually nodding off in her chair, seemingly like she’s around 20 years older than she actually is. And she’s been ignoring my messages since she left hospital, which tells me two things – 1) she’s ignoring me because she knows I’m going to give her an earful for not staying in hospital when she needed to be and 2) something’s a lot worse than I have known previously and she’s worried about telling me. And considering she’s been prescribed morphine, and has done for a while, that she got a bad prognosis and wanted to go home to die. I know that line of thought seems a little extreme, but to me at least, it is the most logical way of thinking – she’s ignoring me; therefore, she’s hiding something. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother to bits, but a lot of the time, I can see the pain and wish she was free of it.
So, this is part of what’s going on in my head. There is more to this, which I may share further down the line. I needed to get all of this off my chest, just finding a way to vent, but for it to be anonymous – the problem with being socially anxious – I don’t like people knowing too much and as I said before – I hate asking for help. But if anyone has any advice, please leave a comment or something. Thanks
My twisted mind 