When I met this girl, I was 23 years old, and she was 21. Unusual circumstances brought us together initially. Her boyfriend at the time's mother had just passed away, and that guy left her to move to another country (they were both cheating on each other anyway). I lost my only sibling in a car accident around the same time, and survived a great trauma to myself and my family. This girl was there for me during these shocking times. I felt a very strong attraction to her from the beginning, spending increasing amounts of time together laughing and being creative, and eventually making love. We made for a beautiful, unlikely, dynamic couple. I loved her with every possible fiber of my body, showing my adoration in the only ways I knew how, and sometimes it wan't enough for her. We confused each other, didn't understand each other, offended each other a lot. We broke up a few times to get strong points across. It wasn't a healthy relationship for the most part, I can admit. But there was an insatiable love that kept us coming back. We moved in with each other, supported each other through grueling unemployment or laziness, vacationed together when it was feasible. She didn't really like to spend time with my friends, and I didn't welcome the ample amount of "guy friends" in her life. Eventually we bought and renovated a condominium together. It was a satisfying experience that I felt was a smart investment towards our future. I really wanted to marry this girl, and was waiting for the right moment where we had a wad of money saved and she had finished college, which was taking a long time (she's still not done with a bachelor's, ten years in) I felt like no matter what, we were going to support each other forever. She went to Europe last summer and came back changed, distant.
There's so much to this story that I can't burden on the world, and don't want to for brevity's sake.
We lasted five years. I came home one night after a long shift at work and the house was virtually empty.
I focused on my job for the first few months. She had gone out and found a boyfriend within two weeks. I didn't get out much. It was hard to communicate with her. She broke up with that guy, made a new group of friends (all men), had a lot of "fun". I became close with her sister, being fed information about my ex's life that was slowly unwinding me. It turns out that my ex had cheated on me in Europe, and maintained ties with the gentleman back home. She had a couple boyfriends, and currently was seeing some pilot guy from Florida. This was less than three months after the breakup, and she was spreading herself thin all over the place. This information was enough for me to fly off the handle. I quit my managerial job and admitted myself to the hospital. They put me on medication that made me feel like shit. Xanax helped me eat a little bit, but I rapidly lost many pounds anyway. I couldn't help but feel the trauma and weight of my situation with every waking minute. I left the States for a three month trip to the country of my parent's heritage in Europe to try to ease my mind. I wanted to meet girls and move on. Instead, I met up with my ex out there and it was a bad idea. In reality, there hasn't been a ten minute span since that cold day in February when I came home to emptiness that I haven't thought about her.
There's been some new developments. I stay over at her house on some nights when I can only assume she's lonely. We don't have sex. She doesn't talk to me about her personal life. It seems shady, but I can't say no to her, so I come over and sleep on the couch. I took care of her when she had the flu, and drove to Indiana to pick her up from a wedding where she'd have to share a bed at a hotel with a guy she didn't really like. Last time I went to her house I snooped around her digital life and found nude pictures that she sent to one of my best friends that lives overseas. I am haunted by these pictures. I confronted my friend, and he "defriended" me on Facebook instead of coming clean. I brought it up to her and she flatly denies, and is rightly angry at my intrusion of her privacy.
I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't fathom working, I can't fathom living like this too much longer. Vicious images splash around my mind. I think about what she may be doing, with who she may be cavorting around. I am well aware that there's no magic pill that can balance me out, but I do not have the energy to heal myself. Therapy only gives me suggestions that I feebly incorporate for a short period, then I get sucked back into hell. I've been told to just "man up", take charge of your life. I have no idea how to be a man anymore. I feel like a lost cause.
I know that the girl needs help, and for years I sheltered her from some of her scariest tendencies. I'm still attached to her. I'm still obsessed. She keeps me around her at arms' length. She wants to stay friends, but I don't. I want her to be my wife, even after all her transgressions. I don't let her know the severity of my psychological circumstance. I don't want her to know how much I've slipped while she feels perfectly fine. Seven months after the breakup, I'm still in total shock.
I welcome any suggestions, radical or simple, that can help me.