Well, the long and short of it is, 7 years ago I met a woman. We started dating. Found out the guy she was with before me physically and mentally abused her, and cheated on her for years. Really rocky beginning of the relationship. She had major trust issues. Started going to therapy to "learn to be in a relationship" again. Many times when she got massively depressed I thought about leaving her. But I stuck with her and supported her and loved her for 5 years. I gave up pretty much everything else to be with her. Stopped talking to family and friends. Gave up hobbies and passions.
Over the years she gets better in the depression department. We were happy. Got and raised a dog together. I loved her more than anything. So I asked her to marry me. She said yes.
A month after that I came home to find some suspicious stuff. Thought nothing of it though. Never thought she would do that. But she'd been standoffish and avoiding me for a few weeks since the engagement.
Finally admits to me that she'd been seeing someone else for some time. Since before we even got engaged. Another guy that she had known for a long time. She'd told me about "Alan" before.
And that she was leaving me for him. Or more accurately, told me to move out, so that he could move in. I just wonder where the fuck Alan was when she was crying because it was too sunny outside. Where was Alan when she was cutting up her fucking arms over the slightest thing wrong? I don't know. But I was there with her. Taking care of her and supporting her.
That pretty much destroyed me. My trust. My self confidence, self worth... gone. I hated myself. I blamed myself.
The last time I talked to her was about a week after that, once I'd moved out, asked her if I could see the dog. She agreed, sure.
Never showed up. Never responded to me afterwards.
I spent about a year strait drunk every waking hour before trying to kill myself. Failed that, spent a week in the hospital psych ward. Went on medication for depression. I've moved twice. Tried new hobbies, exercise, meeting new people, getting new friends, eating properly.
Nothing. I still feel as fucking crushed as the day it happened and not one fucking day goes by that I don't think about her.
Logically I know that it wasn't my fault, but fucked if my brain will let me accept that.
So even if I do ever meet some other woman, I'll never be able to trust her. I'll end up sabotaging, intentionally or not, any possible future relationship. And yet that is really all I want from life, is to start a family.
So I'm fucked. And I don't really see a point in doing any of this shit anymore. Why the fuck am I getting up every morning to go sit in a cubicle fixing idiotic computer problems for morons? Why the fuck am I still being kind and polite to people? Why the fuck am I even still here?
Ya, sure, my parents might be upset if I off myself, but that's life. Shit happens. They're strong people. Stronger than I am. And they have grandkids now from my sisters. So they'll be fine.