Sorry, everyone, this probably isn't too interesting, and it'll probably be long too. But here goes!
So, in late June, or early July, sometime around then, my boyfriend of seven or so years broke up with me. It was a bit of a nasty break-up, but honestly it had been coming for a long time. We had been at each others' throats for quite a long time (too long, really), and the rifts between us became too much for us to fix. There was just too much: He hadn't had a job in about three and a half years, and while the poor guy got pretty sick for about half a year in there, being the sole provider of income when I really didn't make enough to support two people took its toll on me after a while, mentally and finanically. But, even so, I was no saint in the relationship... after a while I lost most (if not all) of my sex drive and physical attraction in him, and more or less refused to have sex with him. I would feel pretty bad about it, but I was always so tired, though honestly that's a poor excuse. There's a bunch of other things, too... he would make me feel like crap about a lot of things, I'd break my promises, we'd always fight, and so on. We were both pretty terrible to each other.
So yeah, we broke up... and quite honestly I am feeling so much better with my life than I have... in years, really. At first, of course, it was terrible: I had no money, no furniture, no transportation, nothing at all really; since I paid the bills for so long and had to stretch my dollars to the limit, I had no savings of any sort, and the furniture we had were all gifts from his family. But, once I got a little financial aid from school I was able to slowly get myself back on my feet. I thankfully wasn't kicked out of the apartment; we had actually rented out a two bedroom for just the two of us, and since we were both financially unstable (he had gotten a job about a week before we broke up), I just moved into the spare bedroom.
Anyway, back on topic, since July everything has just... I dunno, fallen into place for me. My new(ish) job, which I started late last year, is offering me a ton of hours, and in a few months I'll even be able to go full-time, allowing me to get decent health insurance and vacation time and stuff like that. It's not the best job in the world, but it's stable and they pay me enough to allow me to support myself, and give out raises twice a year, too. On top of that, I was able to pick up a pretty nice gig as a freelance writer, which the money from it really helps a lot. Because of the extra income from the side job, I've been able to pay off my somewhat big credit card debt, and in the next couple weeks I'll be able to get myself a little moped to help me get to work and back without relying on the shoddy public transportation in the area. I even have some money in my savings account, which excites me more than it probably does the average person.
Even work is a lot better. I've made friends, real friends, which I haven't really been able to do in years, since I've always been abrasive, shy, and socially awkward. But my co-workers like me for who I am, and I manage to get along with everyone quite well... so even though it's a terribly stressful job, I still enjoy going to work and being there, just because 95% of the time I can have a good time with them.
I used to be miserable all the time, at work or otherwise, but I'm happy now. It's almost an alien feeling, because for many years I've had to deal with depression. Well, at least I think it was; I was never able to go to a therapist to get anything diagnosed, because I didn't have the time, money, or transportation to get to any appointments. I just feel great: I've made leaps and bounds in losing the 50 or so pounds I gained during my relationship, I'm moving into my own apartment (no roommates or anything!) in a month or so, and hell, I've built enough enough self-esteem that I think that maybe I'm not so fat and ugly after all.
Yeah yeah, this sounds great and everything, right? Someone's probably wondering why I made something like this an anon. confession. Well, for one my ex does know my online handle, so I don't want him to come across my post and feel bad or think I'm gloating or anything.
Thing is, I'm pretty sure he's actually having a terrible time of it since the break-up. While he's actually got a pretty great desk job (he makes three times the amount I do), he never really seems happy about his job. He also has been having bad trouble with his hands... something like carpal tunnel (kinda crazy for his age) but even worse. He's always really tired, and while he does go out on the weekends with friends a lot, I feel like he doesn't have anyone to talk to about any of his problems, and that the actual friendships are pretty shallow. We still live together, so I offer to listen, but quite understandably he doesn't really speak to me much about his life. I could be mistaken and he could be having the time of his life as well, but it certainly doesn't seem like it... and I was in a relationship with him for seven years, so I'd at least like to think I can understand his moods a bit. I sort of feel bad that I feel good about life right now, while he's... er, not doing so well. I'm hoping that me moving out will allow him to really start to be happy again, at least.
Goodness, it does feel good to type that all out.
I am unhappy with you.
