No one I know irl follows my Tumblr so I’ll post this here:

2018 has been the hardest year of my life. I’ve done more crying than the year my stepfather died. More than when my sister and grandmother died. More than when I was fighting in court for custody of my daughter.

This is because I, myself, died. I am mourning the person I knew myself to be. I have spent this year watching in helplessness as my sense of self, my confidence, my joy, my strength, and my passion, were all destroyed piece by piece, inch by inch, in a spectacularly impressive display of manipulation that was so covert, so well disguised, that I was convinced I had done this to myself.

I know better now. I know that it was you. It was you when you said all those beautiful things to build me up. It was you when you set the bar so high that no one else could reach it. It was you when you looked me in the eyes and told me it was safe to unlock my gated fortress. It was you when my presence was desired and appreciated.

It was you when you slowly began to avoid certain topics that we used to discuss openly. It was you when keeping secrets were made to be acceptable in a relationship. It was you when personal privacy expanded to include private phone calls away from me. It was you when you started breaking promises.

It was you when you left for days without a trace. It was you when the game changed abruptly and I was no longer desired. It was you when you broke me the first time.

It was you when you still slept with me. It was you when you lied about being with me to other people. It was you when you decided you were still in love with someone else.

It was you when that someone else rejected you and you cried on my shoulder. It was you when you ran back to me. It was you when you broke me again later… And again, and again, and again. It was you when you told me it was me who was hurting you by being present.

It was you when you admitted fault and said “I’m sorry” and tried again. It was you when you stayed out of guilt. It was you when you spent days planning out your leaving again and it was you, able to act completely normal up until you packed up and moved out.

It was you when you said you still loved me after all that and it was you who stopped talking to me altogether after you were gone.

But it was me who sought help from people I thought were friends. It was me who clung to hope that people could be trusted. And it was me who forgot how to say “no” when one of those “friends” found me vulnerable and alone.

It was me who died. And you never even noticed.