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How My Relationship Made Me Mentally Ill

After my long term relationship hit the end of a honeymoon phase, I put everything I had in me to make it still work. The amount of stress and effort I put in, despite my boyfriends lack of effort, caused me to become mentally ill.

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How My Relationship Made Me Mentally Ill

Sometimes I don't think people truly understand the effect that they have over someone that loves them. When you are ridiculously in love with someone you tend to look at some areas of life in a funny way. There are situations that are completely void of logic, it's as if your mind stopped working and your heart has taken the front seat putting you in overdrive. And it's not letting anything talk it out of what it wants.

I started dating a beautiful tall male that met me in the midst of a troubling time in my life. We fell in love hard and fast and I spent the last year of my college career by his side. When I say that this boy was crazy about me, I mean it. He would do just about anything to make me smile. He lived for the moments where he could be silly enough that I would crack a laugh or spontaneous enough to surprise me. We traveled Europe together, we confided into each other our deepest secrets, we shared plans of growing up together and our future dreams.

But like in all realistic relationships, overtime our honeymoon phase ended. And, unlike my boyfriend, I knew what was happening when it came around because I've been in a long term relationship before. I knew that as you grew closer to someone they become a more normal part of your life and it's easy to take for granted if you don't recognize the shift. That if you don't make an effort to find new ways to love and learn about someone, relationships will take a turn south.

So as I saw that new phase of our relationship turn the corner and stare us in the face, I looked over to my boyfriend to find the man I once knew so well heading for the hills. It was as if someone had taken over his body and left his heart and emotions somewhere buried deep in the ground. Leaving the remainder of what was left to be a surface level, self centered version of the man I once knew.

And for 4 months of my life I tried every single way of digging up those sensitive emotions and caring heart. I wrote him letters in hopes that he would hear me out, I took him on trips to remind him of how spontaneous we used to be, I surprised him by showing up unannounced to get a glimpse of that smile he used to give me, I even broke down in front of him in an attempt to show him how much this was breaking me. But as quickly as those things sparked interest and excitement in him, it died again. Regardless I was determined to make this work, I believed in us and was not going to let this be yet another failed relationship in my repertoire. So I relentlessly tried, over and over, until it actually made me mentally ill.

One morning I recall waking up from yet another stressful evening of trying to get my boyfriend to care, and ran straight to the bathroom so I wouldn't vomit all over my newly cleaned carpet. Food poisoning, the stomach bug, even the flu crossed my mind as a dreaded the reality of calling in sick to work again. The day before my boyfriend had yet to communicate with me for over 24 hours and I went to sleep with just about every potential situation running through my mind. Was he dead, was he cheating on me, was he trying to tell me he didn't want this anymore, does he not enjoy my company? I had been turned from a strong confident and witty person to an insecure afraid child who awaits the the worst. I was mortified to know what was causing him to continue pull away from me. Terrified that yet another day had passed where he neglected to think about me or want me around.

For the next two weeks I woke up every morning to what I later found out was an anxiety attack. It was as if the moment I woke up I realized the fight I was about to resume to attempt to win the affection of the man who thought less and less about me daily. That I would be spending another day of facing my biggest fear of not losing my best friend. Another day of pursuing him in hopes he will wake up and want to be the man he once was. And these attacks were relentless, I started sleeping with a trashcan next to my bed and carrying a Target bag in my purse incase the anxiety decided to strike midday. It consumed my thoughts, it made decisions about how I would spend my day, it even drove me away from the man I wanted to be so very close to.

And the best part about it all was that he was shocked when I ended our relationship, he didn't think we had any issues. But little did he know the rain cloud that had slowly developed over my being, that silently sent lightning bolts through me during moments of weakness. I knew that if I stayed it would only get worse. And it didn't get better immediately, I still wake up from time to time with my mind racing and nausea deep in my chest as I try and talk myself out of another spill of sickness. I consistently see a therapist that has helped me deal with these moments of fear, but the truth is that you cannot be in a relationship with someone who doesn't want to pursue you. And it took me to the point of a mental breach to realize it. Each and every person deserves to be with someone who wants you each and everyday, despite what you or they are going through.

Mental health is not a joke and the people we love the most are the ones who we let in close enough to affect it. Although this was one of the hardest things I have been through, with its lesson I have decided to surround myself with people who love me and see me for exactly who I am. Who build me up and not neglect my feelings. Who put their love for me in the forefront of their vision instead of leaving it somewhere in the background of their thoughts.

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