By Sade Namubes
I have always been a very quiet person. I was brought up to be the model child, sister and friend. That may be the reason I never spoke about it. What would people say? What would I do? I don’t even have proof? Worst of all, I would hurt the people I love the most. So I continued my life as much as I could, without it ever getting in the way. Little did I know that as I grew older, it would resurface…
I had my first real emotional break-down about three years ago. I sat on a pavement, called my mother , and lashed out about how I hate my life. Naturally, as all mothers do, she felt it was all her fault. It made me sick to my core- she didn’t realize it’s not about her –It’s about ME! Anyway’s a series of breakdown’s followed, all of them less dramatic than the first. With every breakdown I had to face parts of me which I never dealt with. Parts of me that I managed to overlook without dealing with them. My last breakdown came after I suffered a “break-up” if you could call it that (we never really dated), from someone I thought was the one. I started to question my own sanity, but I dealt with it in the best way that I could. I killed all the love that I had for him on the inside and I fought long and hard to keep my composure. No one would know, no one would care!
After a while I had to resurface and face the music. The way in which I was dealing with my emotions were not healthy. I thought I was strong, but I wasn’t. I was an emotional wreck, with mood swings worse than a yo-yo. No one would guess it though. I was so good at keeping things to myself. I got stronger and stronger on the inside. However the more I grew, the more I needed to find peace within myself. For more than two years, I have been on this journey of emotional discovery and I must say it has been worth it.
Thinking about my childhood, made me realize that there were certain emotional red flags in my life that should have told me that I am on the wrong path. I remember vaguely how I used to stand in front of the mirror in my room with a knife, thinking of how I would kill myself. That was the closest I got to suicide. That does not mean that I didn’t think about it over the years. As I grew older, my romantic relationships always suffered. Mainly because there was a time in my life that I was addicted to pornography. Not the watching of it, but the reading. All those erotic novels, it gave me some sense of sexual satisfaction in my life. It felt as though I didn’t need a man in my life as those books gave me all I needed. I started becoming a black widow of sorts. I would have a series of short relationships. 1 week…2 weeks, at most a month or so. I always wanted perfect – the perfect guy, the perfect relationship. If things didn’t work out the way I wanted, I would break-up with him and move on.
There was always a level of anxiety that came with the relationships. Besides the fact that the guy was never perfect for me, I always looked down on myself as well. I would always tell myself that I was never good enough for them. I still do that, even today. I can’t bring myself to the point where I feel 100% good enough and 100% loved. I don’t know if I ever will. I would always console myself with the idea that he will find someone who loves him better than I will. The guys always do, but for some or other reason they kept longing for me. I was always the girl that got away.
There was another side of me that seemed to suffer as well. I loved the idea of sex, but I hated the act. It made me feel dirty! All those erotic books made me feel good and satisfied, but I would always feel guilty after doing the deed myself. I was raised in a Christian home, and I knew that having sex outside of marriage was wrong. So that added to my guilt and anxiety. In my heart and in my mind, sex was abuse to me all over again. I could never shake the feeling. It was like whenever someone wanted me, it felt like they were throwing trash onto my soul. Thinking that someone wanted me for sex always made me feel sick inside. Obviously, there were moments, that I would manipulate the situation and use sex as a tool. In those moments I knew the power I had through sex.
In time, I started to crave love more. The only problem was that I never knew what love was. I saw sex as love, but I didn’t really understand it. Thinking that sex was love, made me sleep with my boyfriend more, but without the “I love you” and the “cuddle all night”. It felt robotic. I felt robotic. I stopped feeling all together. I never knew what love was, I still don’t in a way.
In time, I started distancing myself from sexual encounters. Sometimes, I would give in, because I want to believe that someone loves me, but afterwards the same sick feeling would return. Even though I refrained from sex, I would find myself in situations where people would masturbate while I was sleeping next to them or someone would engage in sex while I was sleeping in the room. In those moments, I always wished I could just die. I don’t know how to explain the feeling; its’ something that really messes with your mind.
I started becoming a cold and distant person. I started avoiding people and relationships all-together. My interpersonal relationships would always go the same way. People would love me. I would love them, but I would never trust them. I would run away or hide. They would keep coming back and show me more love. I wouldn’t understand. It didn’t make sense. Why would anybody love someone like me? What is there to love? So I sit in awe every day, thinking how will I get through this? How do I move on? How do I change?
I think, with an ever tired soul, that maybe one day true love will come my way.
Follow Sade on social media:
Author: Sade Namubes
An introvert that chooses to share her feeling through writing, Sade Namubes believes she is a thinker and not a writer. Her writing is her love letter to the world.