Day 2 of No Contact and I Feel Worthless

When will this end?

There are only so many Day 2 of No Contact that I can handle. I went from nine months of being obsessed with Jeremy to out of the blue having nothing. There was no fighting. No discord. I didn’t push him for anything more than the bare minimum.

But while suddenly jumping forward to talking about a future together, Jeremy said he “might want to date other people”. I flipped my shit. As someone with horrifically-low self-esteem, it’s tough for me to value my worth and stand up for myself. But even I have limits.

I went through six days of No Contact before Jeremy reached out. In the end, it made me feel worse because I know he was doing the checking-in-to-see-if-you’re-miserable-without-me-or-moved-on act. I mean, I felt good at first because at least I knew that I mattered to him.

But that lasted a few hours. I’m back to feeling like garbage.

What am I supposed to feel? I gave my all to him because deep down, I knew he was out of my league (handsome, hilarious, sweet, charismatic, handsome as hell, wealthy…he was straight out of a romance novel). I tried getting him to commit but after he brushed me off a few times, I left the topic alone. I told myself I was fine with the bare minimum he gave.

And in return, with the bare minimum, he still wanted to find a replacement. The nothingness that I asked of him while offering everything I had was still not enough.

I know that’s not how he’d frame it. He’d act all confused and point out that before me, he only dated two women after his divorce. Then he’d give me all nonsensical talk while laying on the compliments.

My self-esteem and depression keep me at a sub-zero level of worthiness. But this situation has left me feeling worthless. I want to call him and yell at him for this. He’s empathetic and I want him to feel this pain. I want him to feel all the bad things. I want him to know that he did this. If I feel bad because of his behavior, so should he.

But it won’t make me feel better. And I don’t want him to think that I’m not doing well. He can continue thinking that I’m living my best life. I know the psychological aspect of No Contact.

The last time I cried this hard over a guy was Jon, who I was having an affair with at the end of my marriage. But he wasn’t mine. I knew he wasn’t mine. My pain was his shitty behavior at the end of the affair when I told him we needed to focus on our divorces. In one month he fucked his not-yet-ex-wife, me, and a new girlfriend.

What’s my takeaway? I’m replaceable.

This has tapped into every ounce of my psyche and all the crappy things I feel about myself. I didn’t fit in with my friends because at home I lived with ultra-strict, religious immigrant parents. I was a disappointment to my parents because I wanted to blend in with my peers and I wasn’t a perfect robot.

I adored a boy at 17 and this boy told me that no guy would ever date me because the situation with my parents/strictness was too weird for anyone to want to deal with.

Toss on a chromosome disorder that I discovered I had when my son received his diagnosis which is the reason for the autism I never knew I had until my forties.

Everyone aspires to stand out. If you think of top actresses, no two are alike but are amazing in their own ways. You’ll never confuse Sofia Vergara with Reese Witherspoon, or Jennifer Lawrence with Anne Hathaway.

I’ve never wanted that. All I want is to be like everyone else. I want to sit in a group of women and talk about soccer practice and crown molding. A child with autism changed everything about my parenting world; there aren’t baseball games or karate practices. I’m divorced and too poor to talk about crown molding or backyard pool maintenance.

I don’t want darker skin that should be tanned but because I avoid the sun it looks like I’m ghostly. I’m the only half-Indian girl who uses self-tanner to not look like death but would do anything to have white skin. I mean, Snow White was the most beautiful girl in the world and she had “skin as white as snow”.

I don’t want brown hair. I want to be blond but it would look ridiculous against my skin and I can’t afford the maintenance.

The only thing I have is a body that looks good with clothes because when naked I’m covered in plastic surgery scars and cellulite. It doesn’t make me better than the women here; I live in Southern California and it allows me to keep up.

My childhood trauma and self-loathing perfected my wit and allegedly great humor. I’m certain all great comedians suffered from bad childhoods or depression. Comedy and wit are coping mechanisms.

Anyone reading this would say “Why are you letting a man have this much control over you?”

Because despite his shitty behavior at the end, Jeremy is amazing. I can attract un-amazing men. But someone who checks all the boxes who liked me?

I briefly felt like the gorgeous blond blend-in-with-the-crowd chick I always wanted to be. I felt good enough.

Don’t tell me I can do all that without someone else’s approval. I’m in my late forties. I’ve done all the therapies and read all the books. We know peer acceptance is important to teens and we interview candidates and evaluate their cultural fit.

Feeling included…wanted…accepted…those matter. Especially when you never received it from your parents.

There’s nothing like a breakup to make you have an existential crisis.

This is an important week at work and I can’t get my head on straight. I’ve got a small window today to get a month of work done. My adrenaline usually fuels me through my excessive procrastination. But I’m drained, exhausted, and my brain can’t focus.

Last night, while working, the guy I’ve been rebounding with sent me very sweet texts. Ray asked about the work and I gave him a ranting text listing all the tasks and how I have a fear of speaking in public, which doesn’t bode well for a major presentation. He called me.

“Okay, so I have a lot of experience with presentations,” Ray begins. He tries to find out what my presentation is about and the other tasks as if he can “solve” it all for me. White knight stuff.

I tell him that the presentation is mostly done, it’s incorporating feedback that will take time. I point out that I already have two dry runs needed and I don’t have the luxury of showing whatever I want because my company is psychotic. Everyone else dictates what needs to be presented.

Ray asks what’s the worst thing that could happen. “I could lose my job, considering an entire department was nuked last week” I reply. “Okay, well there’s not much you can do about layoffs…” he begins.

“Oh no. These weren’t layoffs. These were firings. Of an entire department because someone at the top felt they didn’t do their jobs well enough. All the underlings got axed as well.” I explain. Ray is briefly stunned.

“Okay, so you lose your job. Then what? You’ll get a severance and find something else,” he replies. I get the intention: there’s a solution for everything. But now I’m annoyed as fuck.

“The severance would only be sixty days per California law and I need the healthcare because I can’t afford COBRA (it’s the law that allows people to pay, in full, for the insurance their employer offered but it’s usually a few thousand a month). I took this job because my former job barely allowed me to pay my mortgage. I’d find another job, but then I’d be lucky if I found something that will pay my bills given my line of work. I knew this job would suck. I’m just dealing with the crappy work that I knew I’d eventually have to do when I signed up.”

Ray continues trying to help. “Okay, on Wednesday for our date I’ll bring dinner over and we’ll work on that presentation,” I reply that by then the presentation will be done but no matter how much I go over it, I’ll still have nerves. That’s how phobias work. I just have to suck it up.

I thank him for trying and tell him how sweet it is for him to offer. He reminds me of Thomas, a guy I dated who always wanted to fix things. I’m not incompetent. I just don’t like doing the work and the things I can’t do are things no one can do because they’re logistically impossible.

I long for Jeremy. When I first mentioned this presentation to him, before the breakup, he told me that I’m crazy smart and that I need to trust that I’m the expert on the topic. He championed my competency and worked to boost me up instead of solving a perceived problem.

Jeremy didn’t make me feel broken. Which is ironic, because he’s the reason I’m broken now.