I have been extremely tight about how much I ‘let out’ during my last relationship. I hold Pandora’s box in the back of my mind, the lid shut tight, too afraid of what it all might mean if I do let it all out. I’m slowly building up to writing a post about it, getting all the memories out on paper and questioning my thoughts about it all.

I have had a terrible weekend. The ex is stirring trouble yet again. It doesn’t matter how many times I have tried to make peace with my past and sail through my life as of now, the tide always catches me off guard, grasping me by the ankles and pulling me under.

I speak to friends about the hurt he has caused. They know i have been hurt. They just don’t know the extent of it all. This poisonous person I have in my life, who I have tried to leave behind is still trying to exert his control over me by manipulation, meddling and hurtful words. This time, I know I don’t deserve to be treated like that. I’ve known it all along, even when he was part of my life it was there, cowering in the shadows of my subconscious. He just beat all the self-esteem out of me to say it out loud to myself.

This time, I will not believe his harmful words, he will not pull me under and I will not let my fear of him stop me from being the good person I have become.

“You are WRONG.”

“You WILL respect me.”

“You should NOT.”

Power. He has thrown these words at me and instead of them soaking in like they always did, they are beginning to bounce off me. No. I will not tolerate this man, Boy who cowardly uses hurtful words to try and pursue his control over me. I dropped my shackles a long time ago and they are now rusty old chains from the past.

I have a past of me saying to myself “Write about it. Every single thing that he has wronged you by. Admit it. Admit it for what it was.”

Then I imagine my fury busting out from my memory in to words and I freeze. I stop myself because I cannot mentally go back there. Why can’t I write about it? Where is this fear coming from? A fear of him finding out? A fear of people not believing me? A fear of me realizing it wasn’t all as bad as I was making it out to be?

“You are WRONG Megan. You are WRONG.”




How do you learn to stay put and fight when every single cell in your body is screaming at you to run?

After all the hardship with the ‘ex-boy’ the past few years and the intense break up that followed come March 2014, it took me a while to convince myself that I would have to eventually trust again. A foundation had been built, steel walls entrapping the shattered soul inside, leaving me in my lonely but ever-so safe haven away from the hurtful bodies around me.

When I started getting back on the dating scene again before the Summer, I had no intention to jump in to a relationship. I knew what I needed and the intense emotions that come along with the beginning of every partnership was not it – the uncertainty, the jealousy, paranoia, the are-we-aren’t-we’s and are they going to hurt me’s – No, these were the certain things that I needed to protect myself from for my sanity, for my health. I’ve had my heart broken wayy too many times this year, I cannot bear to have it shattered again.

Besides, I knew it was hard enough to get through anyway, never mind having the burden of the Bipolarcoaster to ride with as well.

Psychotic Mood disorder + Love = Pain.

When The Boy came along in June, despite dating an exhausting 7 men at a time (I have Tinder to thank for that – a little slutty but I had nothing to lose), he was the only one who didn’t push me. Let me tell you a little inside secret about the male form from my experience;

They meet an independent woman who can stand on her own feet, express her own opinions without being scared of not being heard, a woman who can *gulp* actually say it forward and ask a guy out on a date for a change, who doesn’t ever message you first, and doesn’t mind if you don’t contact her for a whole week, who enjoys her own company, is honest and real and is not afraid to be on her own…

They meet a woman who doesn’t need them – and they turn PSYCHOTIC.

Needy, pushy, argumentative, soft and my gosh desperate – every single one of them turned slightly mental over the fact that I wasn’t clingy or needy over a guy who I was dating. I was purely real and enjoyed their company but could still enjoy my own company more, could sleep without the strings and then get on with my own life the next day. After two or three meetings, said ‘dates’ started buying me endless gifts, showing up at my doorstep unannounced after I didn’t message for two days, and even turning up at my work after not arranging another catch-up for a week (Honestly!! I believe the message that followed went along the lines of “So I came in to work desperate to see you today…”) I’d began to wonder if it was worth all the hassle I was getting, when one day I actually messaged one of them first for the first time in my series of dating shenanigans.

I remember being sat at my desk daydreaming away at work. I hadn’t heard off this Boy for a few days, and all of a sudden I felt an urge to see how he was doing. It was a real feeling, a genuine move on my behalf. Usually, I would only message when it suited me and I’d never be the first one to text, as shady as that may sound.

No, The Boy never pushed me. And so we kept on dating, took it slowly and he ended up filling every single one of my needs on the whole dating side of things.

The first night we slept together took me by surprise. It didn’t feel like a ‘one night, for the sake of it, let me just get my fix’ sort of moments. It seemed real. Nothing was rushed, nothing was played out like a game; it just was. We woke up together and spend the rest of the day with each other, lying on a grass embankment in the sun like it was the most natural thing in the world to just… be.

The first one to have me send a message first, the first one not to be rushed out of the door in the morning by me.

I ditched the dates after that night.

Six months down the line, he is still here. He has established himself as ‘The Boy’ in my life, and nothing has changed. He just fit in. Nothing is rushed, my heart has opened up slowly somehow understanding that there was no need for me to be frightened and if it got too much I could ever slow down or back out. I feel lucky to have someone like him in my life. He accepts me for my illness, he makes me laugh, he listens and he respects my opinions and decisions. He is exactly what I may have needed, if not what I certainly want in my life at this moment in time.

Then, as predicted, alarm bells started ringing.

I met his friends for the first time at the weekend. Expecting a nice night, it turned horribly wrong, when I ended up leaving feeling hurt, intimidated and disrespected over a few comments confidently expressed without a care in the world over The Boys Ex-flings, a few of them somehow thought they would just share the details of his past sex life in front of me. Ouch. It hurt. Whether it was jealously, anger, paranoia, a shatter of self-esteem or just a plain defence output over how disrespected they made me feel – it spiralled some sort of infinite anxiety loop inside of me. As much as I respect The Boy for not joining in, or making it worse in anyway, I did not deserve to be in that situation and I definitely do not want to experience what I felt in my heart that night. I would rather be alone than to be hurt by the poisonous sting of Love, whichever form it will inevitably arrive in this time. I’d rather live without the fear that I was going to get hurt and crawl back in to my castle like a princess who insists on being her own knight.

That night has reminded me just how harmful other people outside my (extremely) tight circle can be, and even though Boy’s will be Boy’s and all that – memories of how my personal past experiences of Boys (-and just that, I’ve yet to find someone who is bold enough to be labelled as a ‘Man’ ) has come flooding back to me, to haunt me, and to hurt me. For I know, and I am certain, that every single partner I have had and I have yet to have will throw that dagger and aim it to the bullseye of my heart; again, and again and again.

As a consequence of this weekend’s events, The Boy who’s smile I have fallen in love with I now want to run away from because of other people’s immature and cowardly actions.