Green Eyed Monster

A friend of mine (hi Heather!) referred to 2012 as the year of love on her old blog, and I have to say, that's a completely apt description.

I can name at least ten people I know (mostly college friends) who got married or engaged this year, and a few more that I know of but don't know well who did too.  Two girls I went to college with got married within the last week alone.  Honestly, no one who got married/engaged this year was anyone I'm super super close to, but still.

Let me say this: I am sincerely, from the bottom of my heart happy for every single one of my friends who got married or engaged this year.  I really am.  I wish them all nothing but the best.

But I'd be lying if I said it didn't sting a little.  Or a lot.  A lot is more accurate.

The thing is, even though I'm not in close contact with most of these people, we have a lot of mutual friends, and thanks to Facebook, I end up seeing pictures and hearing about the weddings and whatnot without even trying.  And again, that's not really a bad thing, because hey, it's Facebook, and I would never ever ever expect anyone to not share their happiness just so that I wouldn't be sad, if that makes sense.  But still, seeing all these beautiful wedding pictures of people so in love with one another . . . hurts.  A lot.  Mostly because . . . oh, it's hard to explain.

I never thought about marriage much before Corey.  It wasn't something that particularly interested in me; I was indifferent to the idea.  But then I met Corey and I fell in love with him and I realized how much I wanted that, and I thought I'd found it.  I expected my name to be on the year of love list along with all the others, and then . . . well, you know the rest.

So it hurts, to see something that I got close to and then lost.  One of the things that hurts the most is seeing my friends with people who genuinely love them.  That probably doesn't make sense, but bear with me.  I felt like that was what was missing from my relationship with Corey--I felt like I was madly in love with him and I was so excited to marry him, but I didn't feel like he felt the same towards me.  And I WANT someone who loves me too.  I want someone who is excited to marry me, who thinks he's lucky to be with me, who's nervous to propose to me, who wants to celebrate our engagement instead of just being indifferent to it, who is proud and honored to call himself my fiance--and I honestly never got that from Corey.  Maybe at the very beginning but not much after.  I realize that back then I probably wasn't really someone anyone would be proud to be with, but I damn sure am now.  And maybe Corey did feel all those things and my perception was just off because of the mental illness . . . I don't know.  The thing is, I see that kind of love in all of my friends' wedding pictures, and I think, THAT'S what I want.  And I know now--and maybe I knew before the  breakup ever happened--that that wasn't what I had.  I think it may have had the potential to be that, but it wasn't quite there.

And it's not just the love that I'm jealous of.  I'm jealous of how big a deal everyone else's engagements and wedding seem to be.  I felt like no one really cared when Corey and I got engaged.  No one threw us any engagement parties, no one even really congratulated us.  And maybe it was because neither of us was really celebrating it, because things were going so poorly between us and all that, y'know?  I don't know, all of this is such a jumble in my head that I probably shouldn't even be sharing it.  But I'm jealous of having so many people to share it with, and that sucks.

I always imagined I'd come out of college with a decent sized social circle and a lot of friends I wanted to keep in touch with, and that we'd . . . sort of grow up together.  I think that's a big thing that's missing from my life, because I really don't have a lot of friends.  And I see these girls being in each other's weddings and just being friends, double dating with their husbands an whatnot . . . and that's probably what makes me the most jealous.  I want that.  The thing is, once I graduated college was when the bipolar really started to kick in and get bad so I pretty much dropped out socially.  And then the rest of the bridges were burnt when I got with Corey, and now looking at it from a mentally healthy perspective, I regret a lot of things.  (So if you're reading this and you're a college friend or sister, please know that chances are I still really like you, and I would love to reconnect in the new year).

Not to mention my 28th birthday is right around the corner.  I feel like I should be waaaay ahead of where I am.  I feel like I have nothing to show for my 28 years and my education and all that.

So it's just a little difficult.  Like I said, I'm happy for everyone, but it kicks up all these thoughts in my head.  And I remember how Corey never even wanted to plan our wedding and I start to wonder if I ever mattered to him at all; I remember how he didn't tell anyone about our engagement and how I felt like such a small part of his life when I should have been the most important.  It's frustrating beyond belief--I can't even really put all of it into words.  It's such a dichotomy in my head--I feel like I knew all along that things wouldn't work out the way they were, but at the same time, I still love Corey and still think there is the potential for things to work out now.  I kind of wonder how it can be both.

I tell myself that I am where I should be.  That being married the way things were would have been a gigantic mistake.  That I have a legitimate reason for the setbacks, that I have a real illness that I am only just starting to overcome.  That there is no shame in being almost 28 years old and in a sort of rebuilding phase.  That my life is my life and whatever anybody else is doing doesn't matter.  That the deadlines are only in my head, and if I don't get married until I'm 35, so be it.  That a new year is about to begin and that it and I am full of potential.

But still, that green eyed monster can be a pain.