Let’s talk about trust, baby


So we have coasted through the years now, and with it, all the juicy bits that have really shaped me throughout the last 5 years.

I mentioned with my first relationship that it planted a seed of mistrust somewhere deep in my soul. My second relationship only fed that seed and grew it into a nice big beast. A mistrust beast..
When I moved to Melbourne it forced me to reinvent myself a little bit. I know that sounds so cliché and dumb, but it did. It also made me forget about my previous relationship pretty quickly and I started sleeping with someone new within about a month of being there. Just like that and I was as good as new.
Little did I know that I was pretty much just slapping a band-aid over that festering wound and calling myself healed. I still had this big, monstrous beast lingering below the surface, just sitting back on its heels, ready to pounce the moment I got comfortable in a new relationship.

Queue the cool, Berlin travelling, cigarette smoking boy who now lived in my friend’s house.
The beginning of this relationship was good, and exciting. The introduction to the parties and the music and the friends was amazing. I had a new little crew and we hung out together and everyone liked me! All of his friends thought I was ‘a refreshing breeze compared to his ex’ and I was so swept up. This bliss went on for about a year, even through all of the Vipassana anxiety fun times. I still look back on this time pretty fondly.

About a year in he started working for a new cafe. Along rolled in the cool new bunch of friends.
Just a side note, up until about 23/24 years old, I had always gotten along with boys more than girls. I think it is honestly because I could charm them and I sought some kind of validation from men more then women (I’ll bring that one up with my psychologist).
So the new friends rolled in, and along with them were 2 very pretty, very nice girls who I honestly never got to know because just like that, my gross claw footed trust beast came roaring out of the woodwork and she was here for one thing and one thing only:

It started the classic way, my ex liked to party a lot, and so did these girls. I was always invited, but I still had the ripples of anxiety washing over me and I never felt like I had anything interesting to say, so I avoided the situations and then, in turn, complained constantly about feeling left out.
Why did he like hanging out with them more? How often did they talk? Did he get along with them more?
Things escalated one day when he left his laptop open and I did something horrendous. I read his Facebook messages. It felt like I had oil in my veins the entire time I was reading them and I swore I’d never do it again.
Of course, that was a fucking lie. It was like a sick addiction. Like I was looking for something to validate the way I was feeling but as soon as I did it I just felt horrible about myself.
I know I’m not the first person to go through this, I know it happens a lot and if you are a person who is doing this right now with your partner, I just have one thing to say, Fucking stop it. Really, stop and observe the relationship and act accordingly.

I know I was doing it because I was in an incredibly unhealthy relationship and that took me such a long time to figure out. Upon much, MUCH reflection, I know I was unhappy, and possessive because of my insecurity, and I was inflicting some pretty major pain on him because of that.
I’m not 100% to blame for the total collapse though. It does take 2 to tango a lot of the time, and as it turns out he was pretty much in love with one of these girls I felt insecure about. They started dating about 4 months after we broke up.
But who knows, maybe if I wasn’t such a crazy person through out our relationship it could have turned out differently.

If I’m being 100% honest though, I knew that we just were not right for each other and that was not his fault, nor mine. I had a gut feeling about this for most of my relationship, and as the time has slipped by since the end, it has become more and more clear. Now I can’t actually remember why it was that we were together for so long, we were both miserable, and that’s probably my biggest regret.
If any of this is resonating with you right now, honestly, really, you need to have a really serious conversation with yourself (or a close friend) about what the fuck you’re doing.
Don’t stay in something that isn’t working just because you’re scared of the alternative.
The alternative is actually pretty great after some time. You’ll get to where you need to be, but not if you just stand still cause you’re scared of moving.

So that brings us to the beginning of the ‘Time life pulled the fucking rug out’.
We broke up in one messy, tear filled day. It was gut wrenching. The worst break up yet. I didn’t sleep for days, I went to the gym religiously. All of the comforts I thought I knew were gone.
To quote the great Katy Perry ‘I was like a plastic bag, floating in the wind’.
I had to move out of my house into the spare room of a 40-year-old beautifully crazy hippy who I learnt a lot about moon cycles from.
I found new best friends and I found a sense of independence that I have slowly fallen more and more in love with. I started to remember all the things about myself that I love, that I had lost.

I moved out of the beautiful hippy house into a place with one of my greatest friends who had also just separated from her boyfriend. We were mutha-fuckin bachelorettes, bitch, and we were loving it.

I was loving my independence, but I still felt like a part of me was stuck in my relationship.
I was scrolling my Instagram one day when I saw one of my friends had recently gone to Vietnam. In that moment of staring through my screen at his beautiful Honda Win 500 parked on a mountain over-looking rice fields, I decided that a trip alone to South East Asia was the key to unlocking the final stages of my healing process.
And so I booked tickets.
One month, back packing alone through Vietnam.

And just like that the countdown to the new me was ON.

Till next time.



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