sometimes i’m the mess, sometimes i’m the broom. on the hardest of days, i had to be both. **Trigger Warning**

i wanted to save him. i later found out in therapy that due to my own childhood traumas, wanting to be with people who needed “saving” was something i was, and still am, drawn to.

we were together for 4 years. from the day i met him i thought to myself, “this is it- he’s the one”. he lit up every room he walked into, people gravitated towards him.he was handsome, charming, funny, always willing to help others and go out of his way for them. his dream… he worked really hard towards that goal. he made me feel safe and valued during a time i really needed my own support, and he was there for a lot of important milestones in my life..graduation, when my dog passed away, my first job, winning athletic competitions, my second job, my sisters wedding, my sisters first baby. and i was there for him. we powerlifted together, that was our thing. it’s how we spent time together because our schedules didn’t match up. when i first met him, i knew i saw some signs that seemed off, but i overlooked them. i guess love really is blind. i began to notice he was drinking a lot more than usual. we’d fight anytime he drank. he’d choose his friends over me, skip plans, show up later than he said he’d be. sneak around, lie about being at the bar, show up to my house obliterated. i thought it was immaturity, and i prayed things would change. the first two years were filled with so much love but so much hurt, too. he landed a huge job  the “golden ticket” . i thought, this is it- this is what he needs, this will help him grow up a little bit. it could have been life changing in a really good way, but it was life changing in a bad way instead. we’d moved in together into a beautiful apartment, he claimed he wanted to take the next steps. i later found out he only did it because he thought it would make me happy. he started getting really bad anxiety. he was messing up at work, waking up throwing up from stress, not eating, fainting in the shower.then he began calling out sick, stopped doing things he loved. stopped hanging with friends, stopped eating. insomnia became common. one week he didn’t sleep for 4 days straight. he stopped coming home to our apartment. he’d be out all hours of the evening, doing what, i have no clue. he was a shell of a person. i’ll never forget the morning he told me he wanted to kill himself. that year was filled with a lot of visits to mental health providers. it was scary. we felt alone. his parents denied that their son was struggling and sick. i didn’t know where to turn. i hid from everyone…friends, family. i lived in a bubble of stress, making his demons mine and trying to help him fight them.  i skipped work, barely slept, cried everyday. who was i coming home to tonight? a happy boyfriend, sad, angry…dead? everyday was a blur. i wanted to help him, i loved him. i still do. i was there every second of every day that i could be. i didn’t want to lose him but in the end, i actually ended up losing both of us. he ended up in the psych ward and then in rehab. i go to therapy once a week. we lost us. but i know i did every thing i could do. i will never regret walking away. it was for both of us. i haven’t seen or spoken to him in 6 months. it was tragic. do you know what it’s like telling yourself everyday that the person you love can never love you the way you need to be loved because they are sick? it’s painful. this has been the hardest year of my life. sometimes i was the mess, sometimes i was the broom, trying to help clean up his mess, on the hardest of days, i had to be both. some days i feel guilty, like i abandoned him. but i tell myself i did all that i could, and that as much as i love(d) him, i have to love myself more.