Anniversaries of You

I miss the years that were erased
I miss the way the sunshine would light up your face
I miss all the little things
I never thought that they’d mean everything to me
Yeah, I miss you
And I wish you were here

“From Where You Are” by Lifehouse

Today (technically yesterday, since it’s past midnight and I’m up late, again, thinking of her…) was the 4 year anniversary of when Summer and I started dating officially. Earlier in the week was the anniversary of our first kiss, our first date, and first time I fell asleep with her in my arms.

I miss so many things about her. How she loved watermelon and grapes, the love in her beautiful eyes, the way she’d walk around with headphones on almost skipping happily to whatever she was listening to, learning to play guitar with her, holding hands, her gentle soul… I could go on and on talking about how amazing of a person she was, how much reminds me of her, and what I miss… but I do that countless times every day anyway. My mind essentially tortures me with thoughts of having lost her, reminders of her and everything we had, and longing for her.

I also wake up thinking about and missing her, and it takes almost everything I have to get out of bed every day and face the world without her. I struggle every night to fall asleep because of thoughts of her – I even hold one of my pillows and pretend it’s her, hoping and praying to any god(s) who will listen to bring her back to me.

But days like today… special days… days of anniversary, are the worst. Many of them just happen to also be holidays. This year, as I head into (or I guess continue through) the holiday season, I’m feeling the burden of what we had even more than usual because I’m living alone, I have at most two friends I get to see infrequently, and very few family to spend time with. Family… whatever the hell that means.

Had we stayed together, we would have had so many good times. Of that I’m sure… It hurts so much knowing that we’ve been forced apart and that she’s likely experienced much of life without me by her side. Supporting her, loving her, protecting and guiding her… We had literally planned for years in advance, talking about how she would move in with me when she was able, getting married, having and raising kids, and just sharing our lives with one another. But now… well, all of that’s gone, and I can’t face that reality most days.

It hurts too much.

I don’t know what the hell the point of writing any of this is. I doubt she will ever read it, and if she did, she would probably be so sad to read how I’m basically broken now without her… She made me promise that I wouldn’t do something bad (like hurting myself or suicide) if something happened to us, and I know that came from her love for me… but many days I wish I hadn’t made that promise, or that I was less of a man and could break it.

But for now, until I see her again, I’ll continue on. Despite the pain. Despite slowly losing hope. Despite the personal hell…

Because she’s worth it.

Featured image source

Summer Love, part 5

This series is a detailed account of my relationship with the greatest love of my life so far, my niece. This is an honest, factual, first-hand recounting of events from my perspective, though names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved.

After moving out of my place with Melanie into my own place, I felt so much relief and… well, I guess you could say freedom… from all of the deep, dark issues I had been dealing with. I could come and go as I please without feeling guilty or having to explain or ask permission. I could talk to whomever I wanted to. I could relax and not worry about someone else in my space that I had to interact with. I finally felt like I had made the right decision for me, for once in a very, very long time.

Shortly after moving, I started talking to a girl that Brandon had been flirting with and basically emotionally cheating on his girlfriend with for a while. He gave me Stacy’s number as sort of a joke, and to sort of prove she wouldn’t do something he had “tasked” her with in a BDSM sense. She was a teacher with a bit of a wild streak and a deep interest in BDSM. We started talking and flirting a bit, but I wasn’t sure I was even interested in her, or if it was more that I was getting attention that I hadn’t received in years from my wife. These chats ventured a little into flirty talk, but for the most part stayed platonic because I wanted to get to know her before I even thought about getting into anything kinky with her.

I had also started attending more BDSM and Polyamory group events. I was enjoying my time being single for the first time since Melanie and I had an open relationship 4-5 years prior (which ended up not being open really, but that’s for another post).

I was also messaging Summer via email basically through the entire day and night, because we had become so close. As I mentioned in my last post in the series, we talked about more relationship and sexual topics, deeper issues that we had with regard to mental health, abuse that she had gone through in her past (and was still going through with the parents she lived with), and so many other things. We grew such a deep bond, and like I started off with in part 1 of this series, I realized I loved her deeply, as more than a friend, differently than a family member. I loved her deeply in a romantic sense.

And I wept.

I came to this realization a day or two before Halloween. I knew I shouldn’t pursue it. I knew if I did and got caught, my life would be over (either literally or figuratively). I knew I was bound for heartbreak because if I didn’t start cutting ties with her, I would never be able to.

That night as we talked, I wasn’t very responsive to her at first, and she noticed something was wrong. I brushed it off and gave her some excuse – probably something to do with having a rough day, but I don’t recall what my excuse was. I changed topics and mentioned I was nervous about going to a couple of events that weekend. Being the inquisitive person she is and always interested in what was going on in my life, she wanted to know what events they were. I hesitated but decided not to lie to her since I had always been honest with her about things: A BDSM munch and a play party. She jokingly teased about me being the “awkward uncle,” but was immediately interested, and wanted to know more. I gave her a vague idea of what people did at those sorts of parties, and it only fueled the fire…

As we talked, she kept asking me what was wrong. She wore me down with her persistence, and I felt guilty from not being completely transparent with her. I told her that, in a way, I understood how she felt that her parents wouldn’t let her date, because there was someone I had feelings for and could never tell them because it wasn’t socially acceptable. Of course, she wanted to know who, and again I tried putting defenses up and not telling her. After she went to bed (she had school the next morning), I was up for hours agonizing over whether or not I could or should tell her.

So I did.

I sent her one last email before I forced myself to sleep that simply said something along the line of “It’s you.” The rest of the night I tossed and turned; I woke up and checked my phone multiple times through the few hours I actually slept. The next morning, I was exhausted on my way to work, and I had not heard anything from her at all by 10am or so when she would normally message me when she got on the computer at 8ish to do schoolwork. I would also usually tell her “Good morning Sunshine!” as that was my own personal nickname for her at the time (and from when we first started texting way back over a year prior to this point). She was my ray of light. My hope. My Sunshine. She brightened my day or night whenever I would talk to her. And here I believed I had demolished everything we had built up together with my confession that she was who I had feelings for. My self hatred grew so much through the hours I waited for her to message me.

I was not ready for what would come next… (To be continued…)

EDIT (for anyone confused about this post’s changes): After looking at a calendar from when we were together, I realized that I was mis-remembering the sequence of events from the night I came home crying until I waited for her response in my email. I think I came home and cried my eyes out either that Wednesday or Thursday night, I know I told her Thursday night (Halloween Night) that it was her I liked, and was waiting for her response Friday morning, on Halloween itself. The play party events came later, and will be in the next part of the series.

Mental Health Self-Talk

Lately I’ve been having some issues with my depression, which seem to coincide with some of the blog posts I’ve been making about my past. As a result of the memories I’m intentionally (and sometimes forcefully) dredging up, my mood has lowered to the point of occasionally being non-functional. For me, this typically means oversleeping, not doing regular chores like laundry and dishes, dissociating and avoiding reality as much as possible by watching movies and TV shows, playing games, and generally being unresponsive to life.

Along with all of that also comes very negative self-talk. I’ll tell myself that I’m worthless, unlovable, and that there isn’t a point to the things I enjoy. I’ve recently been trying to reclaim Halloween since it has always been my favorite holiday by decorating. At least a couple of the days lately I’ve looked at the decorations that are animated and usually turned off (to save power), and went “what’s the point in putting all of this up if nobody’s around to enjoy it?”

A lot of my self-talk tends to be negative or self-defeating. I have been trying to change this. I have written affirmations in my bathroom mirror so I see them every time I go to the bathroom or take a shower. I have written down things I like about myself and put it on my dry-erase board. I have tried my best to look at the positive things and what I’ve accomplished rather than focus on the negative things or how far I still need to go. I take antidepressants daily. I’m working and I keep myself busy with house work, which helps me to feel at least somewhat productive. It is extremely difficult, however. Especially when you don’t have someone there to support you and help you see where your thinking has gone wrong.

Summer used to be that shining light in the darkness for me. She showed me the good parts of me and actually helped me to love myself even when I showed my darkest side. I’m trying without her and without anyone else because I am told that’s what you’re supposed to do, but really I still have a hard time seeing why I need to love myself without someone else.

One thing that has helped a lot is some advice a therapist once gave me:

Treat yourself as you would a close friend or loved one, with kindness.

In a way, this is similar to the “Golden Rule” except it’s pointed inward. Most people wouldn’t treat someone they care for with malice when they see them hurting, or to mentally, emotionally, or physically abuse them when they’re already in pain. Yet all the time I see people who have mental health issues like depression, anxiety, bipolar, etc. treat themselves horribly and without compassion or kindness. I am absolutely guilty of this, and it takes everything in me some days to realize that it’s my own mental illness talking and not the truth. I’m not always successful, but it has gotten easier over time.

As Summer (the one and only person who ever made me feel I could truly be loved for who I was) used to tell me:

There’s always hope.

So please… If you struggle with self-worth issues or mental health issues or simply put yourself down about things like I do, treat yourself as you would somebody you care deeply for…

With kindness.