1.1.2018

Dear…

New year, new me? Is that what they say? More like I want to get back to the old me.

Last night I hit a breaking point as we all hit the new year. I freaked out at my boyfriend, internally of course, as others were around. See, the important thing here is that we have been dating for two and a half years. Almost literally, as our half year anniversary is on December 30th. But all that boring stuff is beside the point.

We were at a New Year’s Eve Party, and all was good. It was a nice night, with sips of champagne and hugs from friends. We’re not a very large group of people, but we get along for the most part (face-to-face that is). For reference the eight of us sat around a dining room table for three hours eating wings and chocolate-covered potato chips, enjoying each other’s company like good gentlemen. That might give you the wrong image: four girls and four guys composed the scene. 

Then, we graduated into the basement, the coldest room I love to spend time in. It’s the party room. No, no. Don’t get the wrong idea again. We are strictly a group of very well-behaved 17-21 year olds, connected through too many ways to think of. So when I say we spent time in the basement, we were just in a basement playing Mao. 

Mao is a combination of UNO and Kings, from how I think about it. If you don’t know either of those games, I’m sad to say you are not in luck. I can’t bother explaining the rules of the game because that would defeat the purpose of Mao. We start with Mao, and transition into watching the YouTube rewind of all things. There are some stupid things in between, like toothpaste jellybeans and crotch-hitting with light saber pool noodles, but we’ll just skip over those.

Then, we get to the ball drop. The same as always. If you missed it, open up Snapchat. You can watch it about a thousand times from the people who failed to miss the significance of the moment because they were recording it. Then it was time for people to go, and went they did. Along with my boyfriend, who didn’t say goodbye.

A goodbye is a small thing. A word at the least. Goodbyes can be much more complicated, but really all I look for is the acknowledgement. We were sitting on the couch, my boyfriend asked someone for a ride, got up, hugged my best friend and left the room. I sat there, not really sure what happened. Waiting to see a turn around. Nothing. So I saltily texted him the mean message I wanted him to read when he got home. No, I didn’t want a hug goodbye or even just a verbal goodbye. Never. 

Needless to say I got very snarky. I told him things that would make no sense here without the context of our relationship, so I won’t mention that. But the gist of it all was that I was forgotten, which is a constant fear that I have. As an introverted person, who easily goes into her shell, this does not go over well with me. I constantly exist just below the surface, as everyone else is paddling above. For once, I didn’t hold back, and vented all of my frustration out in the open. I let myself get mad, and the conversation ended at about 1:40 with him leaving me on read. 

At 1:00 today, I swallowed my pride and said I felt miserable for my tyrannical messaging. He felt bad about making me feel miserable, and we had an hour conversation, which was mostly me just talking about everything that made me uncomfortable. For once I was completely honest about things that I thought were such a big deal. But it was like, as I talked, all the dots connected into lines, showing me how a lot of things that I do based off of anger are centered around one issue. Which is hard to see without putting it all out on the table as something that exists. Inside of you, feelings can easily be pushed away as fleeting and stupid. But telling the truth about myself grounded what I felt, and made it so much less ridiculous, because he could agree with me as well. I was content with how I felt, even if those feelings made me angry, because I felt the old me coming back…

More context. I’ve been having problems. A lot of anger and angst and pushing away. I haven’t been myself. I’ve just been angry. I’ve been wearing amber-colored glasses of danger-detection. But being on such high-alert, with everything bottled up, has made me into a tensed rubber band that will snap with the smallest touch. So as I was sitting in my misery this morning, I realized I wanted to apologize. Not for feeling forgotten, as those feelings were justified. But for acting out the way I did. 

There was one point in my life where I was a solid human being. I had gone through a bad first relationship in my junior year of high school, after being alone up until that point in my life. Then I was alone for a year. I was strong, and independent. I had a guy interested in me, I was graduating high school, and I felt like I had it all together. I was confident in being me. Now, two and a half years later, I have been in this solid relationship, and I constantly feel myself slipping. I am trying to find that confidence again. 

Back to me sitting in misery. I decided if I wanted to get back to the old me, old me would have owned up to her mean spirit, and been more communicative of her feelings. Is it weird that I actually liked myself at one point, and don’t want to be a new, different person? I feel like that’s backwards. Anyways, I owned up to my meanness, my current feelings, and the root of all my anger. And I felt that confidence come back into me. I felt strong, and grounded. I let myself say things that I had never said before to him. Example, that I have considered breaking up with him before. Or given the real reasons why certain people I don’t like in life (relevant to the situation) bother me. And it was resolved in a sense. So, we’re working on it. We’re both afraid. We’re better together.

New year, new me? No. Take me back to the me I once was.

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