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Wednesday, August 30, 2017

Don't Fucking Settle

After a night of damaging my liver, I woke up to a message that threw me for a tailspin.  I had gotten into an argument with my boyfriend the night before about something stupid which resulted in drinking all night at a bar while ignoring him for the entire evening.  (Not smart, but also he deserved it.)

I may have taken a long time to process what was happening (because I was also hung over) only because I kept re-reading what he wrote to me.  He explained that he shouldn't have listened to his heart and that he should have ended things a while ago.  Gee, thanks.  He also instructed me not to call or message him.  I got dumped in the worst possible way after two years of being with this person.  Two years of my life--flushed down the toilet.

You know when you go to the dentist and you're so hopped up on drugs that when the drugs actually wear off--you start getting this massive rush of pain?  That was me.  I didn't cry at first, but after the initial shock wore off--I cried.  I cried not only because my boyfriend had dumped me but because of how it was done.  I thought about everything that invested in this relationship.  I was working and going to school full time (while he sat at home smoking weed and playing video games), drove to his house every day to see him and I always put him first.  I had some flaws but--I was a great girlfriend.  I sacrificed a lot.  And instead of being brave and doing it to my face, he wrote some measly hurtful paragraph and called it a day.  A sickening, pathetic paragraph that was written in a moment of anger and jealousy.  A paragraph meant to tear me down to absolutely nothing.  What. A. Jackass.

I went through that normal period of sadness that you typically go through in a breakup.  I ate my feelings, wore sweatpants nearly every day and even lost interest in my studies(sorry GPA).  I blamed the majority of my breakup on myself.  It had to be entirely my fault.  Maybe I could have been better?  And maybe, just maybe, I wasn't enough.  So in the process of all the self-loathing--I took up drinking.  I just couldn't pick up a normal hobby could I?  I had to pick something that would numb everything that I refused to feel or recognize.  You know when someone just denies up and down that they don't have a problem?  I was swimming laps in a pool of denial.  I didn't have a problem.  No way.  I didn't have a problem let alone a drinking problem.  That was my current objective at the time--numb all the pain with liquid lidocaine so I could avoid having to deal with the present.  Good job, Meg.

During this time of denial, I frequented bars daily.  I would consume alcohol like it was water.  Strangers (and friends) would buy me drinks and watch me spiral like a drunken idiot in these dive bars.  Putting myself in unsafe situations while shutting off any kind of sad and miserable thoughts that tried to run through my brain.  I was going through the stage where it felt fine to fall down the rabbit hole.  Don't worry everybody, I got this!  But in reality--I didn't have a hold on the situation at all.  To make matters even more embarrassing, my mother would find me drunk wandering around the house or in our backyard.  I'd have sloppy drunken crying fits in front of her and I begged her not to judge me for it (since my mom is the queen of judgment).  I was a major cause for concern, so much so that she almost shipped me off to another state as a source of rehabilitation...

One evening while drinking (yet again) in my backyard, I received a phone call.  It was from my ex.  He had claimed that he had made a mistake after consulting it with his mother.  Wow, what a relief to know that you had to consult your mother to help you make your own decisions as a grown up.  (Biggest red flag ever).  Although he had begged for me to talk things over, I brushed him off and hung up.  I was too busy numbing myself to confront the situation that presented itself to me.  Here it was--the time to solve this problem and I decided to just down another drink.    



I realized that my time down this crazy rabbit hole was coming to a close.  I knew that I needed to just cut the crap.  So I put the bottle down.  I stopped going to bars.  And I stopped running away from it.  It was time to face the shitty music.  There had been months of him harassing my friends and trying to do anything and everything to 'win' me back.  At this point, I had to confront him face to face.  And although he did me dirty, I couldn't stoop to his level.  I couldn't write a paragraph like he did.  I knew that I was much better than that.  So I did the responsible thing and said what I needed to say to his face... 

 
I told him that we were never getting back together.


 
As the liquid lidocaine wore off, I was seeing things so clearly.  I was looking at it from an entirely different perspective.  I began to have these introspective moments to where I started looking at my accomplishments and goals as an adult.  And then I started comparing who I was to who he was.  And then it hit me.  He didn't want to be an adult.  He didn't want to make a choice.  He just wanted to keep me standing there at this fork in the road throughout our entire relationship.  He was content with cruising through life while making up every single excuse in the book for his idiotic behavior.  He was settling.  And all I wanted to do was grow...




If I had patched things up, pretended that nothing was wrong (when in fact there was) then I would have settled.  I would have settled for less than what I truly deserved.  I didn't deserve an insecure, jealous, immature boy.  He did me a favor.  I probably would have stayed with him.  I would have kept this blindfold on.  And I never would have realized my potential for true happiness.  I deserved a man, a man who had his shit together and would be my team-mate.  I deserve the person I am with now.  And we're getting married...

Now you're probably wondering; 'okay, Meg if you chose not to settle with this dipstick, then why all the drinking and crying?'  First off, I'm allowed to cry.  I'm only humanOkay?  Second, I was young and dumb.  (We've all been there.)  I didn't know how to accept this kind of life change (the right way).  And the way I was dumped wasn't exactly the five-star treatment.  I felt discarded.  It was as if I was some CD that got scratched beyond repair so he decided to just throw it out with the rest of the trash.  That played a huge role into why I responded to his action with substance abuse.  I didn't care about who I was and I drowned myself in a lot of blame.  I'm just this horrible person aren't I?  I can't even get the proper breakup I deserve.  Did I deserve it?  I ran through these questions constantly which inevitably resulted in my daily trips to the bar.   The only thing I thought was okay was alcohol and self-loathing during that time.  (Wrong.)  I realized that I wasn't crying because my heart was broken.  I was crying because of how insignificant he made me feel and the fact that I had lost two years of my time over a careless jackass...   

Spending a lot of time thinking of all the things that I should have been doing became palpable.  All the studying I could have done, the events I didn't go to, (the dudes that I could have dated instead of this asshole), all the times I left my friends house early just to see this jerk-face, all the times I felt like shit when his friends would call me fat and this fuck head did nothing to defend me.  He continuously brought me down and I made excuses for it. And you don't think about all of those things at the beginning but they start dawning on you when you have a moment to reflect.  When I stopped drowning my body in alcohol, my mind became clear.  And maybe that's why I was so afraid to deal with it in such a grown up fashion, I was afraid to learn the truth.  I was afraid to realize that I fucked up by being with this prick for so long.  I was only meant to be with him for a season.  This chapter of my life was over and I would never get those two years of my life back.  I had to realize, grow from it and move forward...





 
As I approach 30 at (what feels like) warp speed I've taken away one piece of advice that has given me such a guiding light.  This piece of wisdom helped me when I needed in the most.  It helped me realize that I deserved so much more that I gave myself credit for.  And most importantly, it has motivated me more than ever...

Don't Fucking Settle. 
I know, I know.  It's easier said than done sometimes.  But it's vital.   I know of so many people who are so eager to just settle.  That drives me absolutely insane.  So when it came time to tell my ex-boyfriend that there wasn't a chance in hell that we'd get back together--I took that opportunity and ran with it.  It may have taken a lot of crying and drunken nights down the rabbit hole, but I fucking made it.  In the end, I had to do what was best for me.  I was refusing to settle for less.

Relationships, Work, Your Goals--whatever it is--don't fucking settle.  You will go on your whole life wondering what the fuck you were thinking.  If I didn't drown my body with alcohol--I probably would have gotten that clarity sooner.  But that's not how life works.  We're meant to make mistakes.  But we're also meant to fight for what we deserve.  I'd rather lose two years of my life than go on for the rest of my life settling.  Remember this--you deserve the best.  Don't stand for anything less.



xx
Meg








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2 comments:

  1. Really enjoyed the post and your honesty! It seems like it was a cathartic experience for you to write this down and it is both inspiring and relatable!

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    1. Thank you so much! It definitely releases some demons most definitely. <3 I'm glad you enjoyed it!

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