Mirrors, university and regrets.
This is a confession.
Between 2020 and 2023 I was a university student. I really enjoyed it to be honest. I miss it. I miss the social life, the parties, the learning, and the culture. I had to retake my exams every time because I have a very bad memory. In my second year I moved in with my friend Zélie. She was hilarious and a bit of a mess but we matched. We made some very gross jokes, we never closed the toilet door so that we could talk to each other and we used to have a list of our hookups on the wall. It was a great time to be honest. I used to party a lot, a lot of cigarettes and even more alcohol. I was trying to numb something at the time, I just had not realized yet. I had a large group of friends with whom I share fond memories with even if we're no longer friends anymore. I miss university everyday. I was smart at the time I think, not as intellectual as most but smart nonetheless. I used to love the history of pots and cutlery. So much so that I still read books on them to this day.
Not today but on most days I am stuck between needing reassurance and being self assured. It's the duality of man, at least it's the duality of me.
After my first ever breakup (in which I was dumped on Valentine's day in front of all his friends). I developed the worst splitting moment of my life. I was unrecognizable, incredibly toxic and well just kept humiliating myself. Before, my partner (the one who dumped me) suffered a lot because they liked me. I was really horrible to them. In my defense I had just developed PTSD from the previous summer and was constantly fighting with my mum because of it. He knew this obviously because it's become a huge part of who I was. During that same time I found my therapist (hello ***, she reads my substack). It was the best decision of my life. I was completely lost for a long long time and I needed help, she helped make a cartography of my mind. Anyway, back to my ex-partner. I hadn't experienced a breakup before because it was the first time someone liked me for my personality and not for my physique. So being left like that was in translation “hey you're a horrible human being”. And at that time I was. It had solidified in my mind that I was the abuser and not the victim at that point in time. I believed that I was once a victim and due to the trauma I became the abuser. So what did I do? I got angry. I drank. I would explain to everyone how he asked me to burn my clothes ( I didn't know how to dress ). I can't really remember what else I said back then. I don't think about that time anymore because it still upsets me how much I must have hurt him. I regret it.
In my dorm room, I had glued paper on all my mirrors and even my window. I was very disturbed. I couldn't look at myself because of how ashamed I was. I was so incredibly ill. I developed an eating disorder not out of self-hatred but I need to control myself. If I couldn't discipline myself through my actions I could discipline myself through food. I lost 10 kg, which isn't a lot but when you are 170cm and big boned it's worrying. Sometimes I compare myself to that old version of me. It's a reflex, she echoes in my head. But I am no longer a teenager, I am a woman now and I should be proud of that.
It took me one whole year to get over my first ex-boyfriend. I associated him with the fun times I had with my friends and sadly with alcohol. He was okay I guess. He had some issues but mine were so much worse. I'm scared I hurt him to the point of no repair. I don't think he remembers me now. I sometimes think about sending him a message saying how sorry I am but I don't want him to answer. We met in university when I had the mirrors covered. He never mentioned it and maybe that was for the best.