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Lost my Love


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I honestly don't know if this is the correct thread, but I wanted to let it out. It's just a rambling, with many different thoughts.


I've been in mourning for five days.

The man I loved for eight years was ripped away from my suddenly. My heart has been ripped open.

I felt closure at the funeral, but after, I felt my first burst of anger, and it was at myself.

We had a unique sex life, filled with aggression and release of pent up emotions. We "made love" only twice, neither of us were romantics.

I have a dominant stance in bed(had come out lesbian before I met him), but with him, my entire being submitted to him. Our honeymoon period lasted years, well over half our relationship.

But after so long(two years ago), my dominance was pent up and I began to push him away on his advances. Not because I didn't want to be with him at that moment, but because I wanted him to rip that stubbornness from me. I told him only once, in the beginning of the change.

It worked, but the stubbornness never went away. I still pushed him away, in the same manner as always.

I feel it was selfish, he had health conditions, and his energy level declined. Yet, most time he wanted, I was stubborn. Not all the time, though.

i feel anger at myself for making him go without so many times because I was too blind to see that he might have been too tired that day to deal with my ****.

The night before he passed was one of those nights. He was tired but he didn't show it. I was drunk, I was being difficult.

In the morning, the tides changed, as they usually did and I was messaging him, telling him I wanted him, that he should come over. I was so riled up, I had missed my chance that night, but I still wanted it.

It had been a week since we had sex. I felt I needed him so bad.

Then he was gone.

That pent up need for release is still there, and I'm a mourning mess. I can't do it, I can't make myself release, because the moment I close my eyes to relax, I remember, so vividly, our sex. Then sorrow just crashes over me.

Its a vicious circle and it feels like torture.

How do I deal with this?

The man I dated since I was 15 was gone, I'm 23 now, turning 24. I built my life around him by every single form of the term. He was on disability, hardly got 700$ a month(only 500 for the first six years). I Had to work, I bought him everything he wanted, even a beast of a PC for over a grand(which I'm still paying for on a credit card). I paid for all of our dates, I paid for anything and everything. I even supported us in our own apartment for a year til I lost my job(at only 19, I did this).

All of my foundation was him. Any decision I made was ran by him for any opinions he had. He would call me on my **** when I did wrong, made a bad choice and didn't run it by him. "That's what I'm here for." Is what he would say.

just a month and a half ago, I got a promotion at work, making $11 an hour. I was three an hour away from being able to pay for an apartment again.

i started working out, since serving made me drop 25 pounds, I pushed for more loss. I did it because he was getting depressed, and I was trying to beam at him about how much better I feel. That after I work out, I could conquer the world. Eventually, a total of 40 pounds were gone, I dropped two pants sizes.

My plan had worked, it got him motivated, up and active. I took him to Academy Sports and he agreed to a stationary bike. He began to use it, and he got better. He started out at five minutes a day, eventually got up to thirty. He began to tone so quickly, his confidence boosted.

Finally he was out of the house, walking with me at the park, going out to dinner once a week, going bowling, going to the movies. He wanted to go do laser tag after his nephew flew back home. He even started painting and playing music again. I was so elated. I thought there would be hope for his well being.

He went bowling with his nephew and I six days ago. He had so much fun, I drank too much beer so he took me home. I was difficult, I pushed off his advances.

Then he was gone.

How do I deal with this?

I don't let the sadness take me. I let it crash, overwhelm, but flow over me, not wash me away with the rip tide. I'm grieving, but I don't know how to do it. 

I'm told to let it take me over, I'm told to write, I'm told to take boxing or mma classes, I'm told to go out to a club and drink, I'm told to go to a therapist, I'm told to go to the doctor and get something to help the pain, I'm told to work over time, I'm told to go out with friends, I'm told to be with my family, I'm told to be with his family, I'm told to go jogging, I'm told to ****, I'm told to rebound, I'm told to binge watch his favourite shows, I'm told to read his favourite books, I'm told to go to school, I'm told to eat his favourite foods, I'm told to hide under blankets.

I wish he was here, to grab my face like he always did when my anxiety panic disorder kicked in, force me to look him in the eye, and say "I love you. Everything will be okay, baby. Have I ever been wrong?" Then he'd help me take deep breaths to stop the on coming hyperventilation. He'd hold me til my breathing was even and the tears were gone, no matter if it took two hours or five minutes.

I took care of him financially, but he took care of me on much more profound levels. I relied on him as my strong pillar. To keep me going when I stressed too much and my disorder took me over. It was hard a lot for me, working all the time, I was, and am so young. I'd come home and he'd make it all better.

He allowed me my space, to move in with my aunt cause she lived not even two miles away. So I could be free on some of my days off, but I'd still see him every day.

every single day.

How do I over come this?

Im not religious. I'm a free thinker, and so was he. We both sought knowledge. We watched so many documentaries together. We played music together, him on guitar, me on bass. We played video games together, we did art together. We read books together. We did puzzles together. Our interests were aligned so perfectly. We were best friends. We were a year from common law marriage.

I was never able to give him a child. I wanted to so bad. We tried so hard. I wanted something to have that was a part of him when he passed. I knew he wouldn't be around forever, he was a heart transplant recipient. His health was on the line every single day.

I wanted one more hug, one more nasty kiss because his lips were bigger than mind and sloppy, one more time for him to lay his head in my lap and to pet his head, one more time for him to tease me about my perfectionist attitude, one more laugh. Oh god, his laugh was so uplifting. He laughed so much.

I worshiped him. It wasn't until he passed I found out how much he worshipped me. His mom and sisters favourite topic is how much he talked about me, how much he praised me, how much he bragged when I wasn't around. How hard I'd been working, how much weight I had lost, how my cigarette smoking slowed down. How I was planning on college, how I was on video games, how well I drew.

Hearing that, I guess selfishly, makes me feel better. I was trying to get my life right, to stop wasting money on smokes, on too many snacks. That I lost so much weight that my knee wasn't hurting anymore, or my back. My feet hurt less at work, so I could work more. To have a child, to settle down. I only pursued that promotion for that reason.

I honestly don't know what to say anymore, maybe posting will help me feel better. If so I'll write more of his memory than emotional rambling.

The photo is the last one I ever took this him when we went bowling.


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I am very sorry about the loss of your love. The best way to heal is to talk about your pain, your emotions, your everything with other people. Or, if you cannot bring yourself to talk to others, then consider writing him a letter. Tell him what you just said in your post. Some people find it helpful. 

If you don't mind me asking, how did he die? 

Your picture is awesome! You both look wonderful together. :)

We will be here with you,



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