Crazy in Love

We all go through changes in life. From time to time, a bit of self-reflection is always a good thing. One cold, rainy evening, this week, I was sat in my new leopard print onsie on the sofa. I was feeling like utter shite and convinced that it was far more likely that I had the plague, rather than a common cold.

Sat, feeling like poo, unable to breathe through my nose, I was reading an article about a woman who caught her boyfriend cheating. She cut his penis off. Off. Not half-way, not a scratch. She took that thing and chopped it off with a kitchen knife. I mean really, in my opinion, he deserved it, and I developed a sense of regret that I hadn’t had the balls to do it myself, two years ago. Reading the comments after the article, the general consensus was that this lady was crazy. Crazy girlfriend. I’m not sure that I agree with her being labelled as crazy. If anything, she should be labelled as ‘clever’. Anyway, she’s now in prison, and I am still fighting the plague. Whilst trying to master a way of sipping my soup and breathing out of my mouth at the same time, I wondered:

“Have I ever been the crazy girlfriend?”


The answer to that, of course is 1000% yes! Oh my god, I’ve been crazy. I believe that it’s a learning curve that we should experience. Way back when I used to believe that I was going to spend the rest of my life in a relationship with my Ipad and a jar of Nutella, I met a guy. I won’t go into everything, because it’s a while ago now, but, not being long after my relationship with Lucifer ended, my mind turned from happy-go-lucky to the crazy, possessive girl that sits outside your house every night, waiting for you to wake up. Perhaps it was desperation to just be with someone again or maybe it was just my worry of not being good enough for someone, again. Either way, it went tits up from day one.

Endless phone calls, constant text messages, practically interrogating him when he didn’t answer his phone within the first three rings, worrying about him leaving me (which, inevitably he did, because I was cray-cray) and crying at the thought of being alone again. I did it all. Hats off to the guy for lasting as long as he did (a month). In hindsight, I’m glad that he did call it off, because he wasn’t perfect either, and it was probably a blessing in disguise that he’d had enough. (I have written about him before, last year, but since then I’ve deleted it as now, I can see things more clearly).

Honestly, it’s really hard to break out of the crazy-cycle. It’s like giving up nicotine. You crave to be crazy. You know that it isn’t good for you, and in the long-run, it’ll affect you and those around you, but it’s like a drug. Sending that one text more than you should feeds your hunger, your need and your addiction. Your heart beats faster and faster as you type it out. As soon as you send the text, you instantly are made aware in your own mind that it was a bad idea. ‘Shit’.

Unless you embrace the craziness, accept it and find the source of it, you won’t be able to stop it. I had to really stand back and look at myself and stop blaming others around me and accept that the problem lay within myself. Once I did that, I started to calm down. These days, as bad as it sounds, I’m hard pushed to even look at my phone, never mind spam someone with calls and texts. I really noticed the change in me with the last guy that I dated.

If you’ve been labelled as crazy, or indeed, if you know that you are being the psycho partner, please do not be ashamed of it. Regardless of what your smart-arsed friends or partners tell you, it is a part of blossoming. It’s all about development and understanding yourself as a person and realising that you need not feel like you have to pester someone all the time, because you’re worth way more than that, but more importantly, if you feel as though you have to pester a guy/girl to get them to like you more, ask yourself if you really want to be with someone who makes you feel as though you need to improve for them. Understand it, and then act upon it.

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