Love is a battlefield

It takes approximately three hours to travel from Cardiff to London, in good traffic by car. At the point when I ‘lost it’ we were about an hour into our journey, cruising down the motorway in a hurry to get back to London. The moment the conversation nose-dived and I had that all too familiar feeling that I was banging my head against a brick wall trying to fix things with Megan.

In my last post I said I lost it, I didn’t go into the detail then as I had already rambled on for far too long. I’ll explain now how bad the fall out was. Even now, nearly two years later I bear the scars from my temporary insanity that day. Two shiny little blighters over the third knuckle on each of my hands. I busted my knuckles open on the dashboard of Megan’s car while she was driving.

I was screaming at her in my anger, I honestly couldn’t tell you what I said. I was going to pieces. I took off the bracelet that she had bought me, emptied the bag that she had bought be for my birthday and I was ready to dump everything I had on me that she had ever given me right out of the car window as we were speeding up the M4. Sure, it was a little dramatic. Still, it was nothing compared to how I was feeling inside.

I’d like to say I calmed down quickly, I don’t think I did. Megan started shouting back, telling me how stupid I was being, how I’d probably managed to break my knuckles, nothing seemed to be reaching me. Eventually, and it was probably all over a lot quicker than I remember it, I ran out of steam. I had shouted, screamed, hit out and shouted and screamed some more until I had nothing left.

I think Megan finally understood just how much everything that was so wrong between us was driving me crazy. I can only imagine she stayed with me after that out of equal measures of guilt and fear. She attempted to talk me down and restore me to some sense of calm. Somehow Megan managed it and I let myself be convinced once again that she cared about me, about us and she appeared genuinely upset that she was having this affect on me. She even tenderly helped me ice my hands when we’d reached home, it was a very confusing feeling, being looked after by the one person possible of driving me so crazy.

We were still on the M4 heading into London when I had calmed myself down enough to regret busting my knuckles open and beginning to wonder how I was going to hide that at work the next day. At the office I had steadfastly been portraying the image of domestic bliss and playing down any problems that I might have previously hinted at. I was trying to focus on work and everything that I needed to be doing to get back on track.

I knew that over the next days, weeks and maybe even months things would be tense between Megan and I. It’s difficult to recover from an incident like that, she’d seen me lose my temper before when I first acknowledged that we had some serious problems and she wanted to ignore it all. This was different, this was me going next level crazy. She’d be tense wondering if that thin essence of calm I had found would desert me again.

As for me, I’d be tense looking to see if she meant it. Whether there would be any indication that things ever could get better between us. The pair of us would go on living together walking on egg-shells. It was never going to be a good time. I needed to find out how to get past this, I’d already decided that I was going to see things through with Megan, for as long as she would tell me we had a future I would believe her. I could put up with (almost) anything as long as she was in it with me.

It was one thing however to hear her say that she was in it, it was a whole other thing to believe it. Especially in those moments when I could see all the reasons why she might be tempted to say it for an easier life. That if we were to string things out a little longer then she’d be able to break away without so many consequences. Like the rental contract we found ourselves in and plans we had for the near future like going to shows or spending time with our families together.

Everything seemed to have a big fat question mark over it when it came to us. Whenever I tried to tackle this head on and have a calm discussion I would get shut down. Megan would delay the conversation by saying it was all down to her depression. That she couldn’t see a future full stop, let alone a future for us. I still encouraged Megan to seek help for her depression, every single issue or problem that arose seemed to be pinned on it.

I tried another tact. I told Megan that I was unhappy. I tried to reason with her that if I was unhappy and finding that our relationship was awkward at best then she must be able to sense that too. Wouldn’t that be enough to motivate her to try something? It rankled me that when it came to ‘us’ it was the only thing she would sacrifice and feed her depression with. Everything else was still seemed easy as breathing, but when it came to trying to enjoy each others company nothing was ever enough to battle her depression.

I became worried for her. In the early days of our relationship she had confided in my that things had been so bad before that she’d often thought about killing herself, was prone to self-harm and ceased to function when it came to looking after herself with simple things like bathing and brushing her teeth. To say my nerves were stretched was an understatement.

If I believed her and all her crazy then there was a very real possibility that she could reach breaking point and fall into a downward spiral, into that depression abyss that you have to wait out for god only knows how long. On the other hand, she was a liar and was stringing me along for the most cruel of intentions, to split up with me when it was most convenient for her and she couldn’t care less about how much the effects of that would torture me.

I tried to put it out of my mind and focus on each day as it came. Hopefully over those first few days I’d get a feeling for what the situation was. I would just have to trust my intuition. I trudged off to work the next morning and I couldn’t hide the busted up hands from everyone for long. I must have had a look on my face that said I didn’t want to talk about it. But I needed to.


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