Diwali is the Hindu Festival of Lights. People love Diwali. It celebrates the victory of good over evil. With a lot of noise and air pollution, I might add. While everyone else loves Diwali, I am not really a fan of it. For starters, it’s never been bright for me. It always brings back memories of that time my boyfriend left me for another woman, who he’d been cheating on with me. Good for her, bad for me. I’ve never lost too many battles in my life – I haven’t fought that many to begin with, but this defeat left me pretty broken.
I think that was where my depression really started. I haven’t been able to recover. I’ve tried, oh boy I’ve tried. I’ve had rebounds, I’ve had solid relationships after that, but my faith in myself was gone. Now, I’m not a crier and I get over things pretty quickly. But this nagging little constant reminder that I wasn’t good enough to invest feelings into? It got me, you know. It got me pretty bad. I guess I need to get this out, and talk about it because trust me, I’ve been to the shrink. I’ve tried retail therapy. I’ve tried killing myself and my self respect still hasn’t come back.
I’ll admit, it was all my fault probably. Later on when he blamed me for the whole mess, he said he was a guy and he’d obviously want to get into my pants and that being a girl, I should have had a control over things, I’ll admit it gutted me. Everything he said hurt. But there was also truth behind his statements. Here’s what I didn’t understand though: if he already was in love with someone else, why would he carry on with me? Because that’s not love in my book. When you love someone, you don’t kiss another woman and tell her you love her. And he did. Oh, plenty of times. Between kisses. Between cuddles. Between feeding me dessert off his fork in public. I didn’t see the red flags. I didn’t know. I’d go over to his place when he needed me around: back then I didn’t know these were what booty calls looked like.
When he told me he loved me, I believed him. On a staycation with him, he made me fall in love with what a good person he seemed to be. Holding doors open. Holding my hand when we’d cross the road. Pulling out a chair for me every time we went to have a quick bite at cosy restaurants. It was – is – the best holiday of my life. Things started to change after we came back. He’d ignore my calls. Never text back. I let him because I thought he was busy with work. I was too naive to see that he was trying to shake me off for good. He had me delete all our photos together from my phone. I thought he was being immature but in reality he was not. He was just getting rid of evidence.
The morning after his last birthday with me, as we lay in bed together he told me he felt guilty and turned away from me. He didn’t look at me the whole time. Later, he basically threw me unceremoniousy out of his apartment. Pretty much how you’d throw out a hooker so nobody would know you were boning one. Only difference? I wasn’t getting paid for my “services.” I had to go home for a month but he never came to see me off. And that’s how things ended. No closure, no goodbyes.
That Diwali, which came around a week later, he dumped me over a text message and told me to basically fuck off. I’ve never spoken about this until now, but the #metoo has given me the strength to talk about it. It is never okay to make excuses for someone when you know you’re losing your self-respect. Once you start making excuses for him, you need to know that it’s not love anymore. It’s something evil and twisted and it exists to only suck the life out of you.
I was lucky I got away. There are many women still stuck in toxic relationships and unable to do much about it. But I implore you, try. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve to live a lie.