I can’t believe how good it feels to reject him. i think today was the first time i clearly rejected him. and there is guilt, as ridiculous s as that is, i do have guilt over it.
this morning i reminded myself of my intention. i was going to say, “thanks but no thanks” when he tried to hang out after the dance thing. no matter what. so he texts that he’s running late. making it easier for me. he misses the first dance. then some other groups, younger girls, did their dances and then he shows up. i was hoping he’d stand at the wall but he squeezed thru to the open seat next to me that i did not purposely save.
the minute i saw him i was like, ugh. he looked sickly. his lips were greyish. he sat next to me and i smelled a rotten stomach smell and cigarette smoke. afterward, we walked out and asked where the other was parked. he was way out in a second lot and i asked did he want a ride to his car so he wouldn’t have to slog thru the massive amount of snow slush. he said “no, but what do you want to do today?” i said “uh, nothing really, i dont want to hang out.” hes like (shocked) “why?” i said “i dont know, just dont feel like it.” then we were at my car and he walks to the passenger door and i said “oh you do want a ride to your car.” hes like, “might as well.”
we drive to his car and he starts asking questions, business stuff about the kids and college and finances, stuff he knows im still willing to discuss. then he starts telling me some drama going on in his family. i somewhat care about these people even tho i’ve actually only met one of them. (living together 10 years and never met his family, js.) then he asked how i was and said, “you know this kind of feels like we’re hanging out, and i said i didnt want to do that.” he laughed, “yeah…i tricked you.” i said, “yeah, you know, i just dont want to hang out cuz we’re not friends.” (i decided to go there.) his eyes teared up, he said, “but we are friends i like being around you i love you.” i said, “sure i can understand that. but why would i want to be your friend? after the things you did to me, the lying, the betrayal? thats not how friends treat each other. normally i would never talk to you again, but because of the kids, which i do want to support that…but that doesnt mean that you and i have to be friends.” he said, “we can discuss this later” and turned to get out of the car. i said, “why? i dont want to talk later. i dont want to talk to you. you cheated and lied to me for 6 months and before that, you had me crawling on the floor like a dog. when i’m around you, i remember what that feels like. when im away from you, i feel like myself again. and when i feel like myself again, i can’t understand why i’d ever be around you again.”
he said, “im glad youre feeling like yourself again. im gonna go.” and got out of the car. i felt… stupid guilt, and fear of retribution, and relief. i drove off and called Mollie. i told her i was conflicted and stressed and really wanted to stop and get some gross greasy food rn.” she said just talk to me until you get past all the crack houses (fast food places and restaurants). gotta love her.
i got home and felt pretty great. the hunger passed and i shoveled the driveway a little bit. didnt want to mess with my back, but felt like doing something physical. then i played with my dogs and finally made a normal lunch with veggies and everything. damn. it felt good to just be doing what i wanted. i’d stood up to his emotional draw. i had felt the pull, and a part of me was like c’mon lets just do it, this time might be different. but the bigger part of me remembered my intention and stayed strong and the reward was, i was home and free to do what i liked and to feel good and to not be in the groveling position im always in with him.
it helped that he looked like shit, stunk and was late to an 11am event. that tells me he was up late drinking heavily and spending time with smokers (he doesnt smoke). but damned if i was going to ask him about it. that’s not my concern anymore. but it helped me stay strong.
i am nervous of retribution. he could cause me a ton of problems financially. i dont think he would do it with the kids still here, but once they’re gone, ive got to have a plan. altho my friend kale said by then, i might be strong enough to placate him and be friendly enough that he’ll allow me to stay in my home. and altho that’s true, the thought of living that way nauseates me. i am not materialistic. i dont care about the house and furniture, etc. a reliable car is something. and my animals. but i have some time to plan.
then, a few hours ago he sent a text: “im not dealing with loss of you. too hard.”
sounds drunk. and this is the first text of this kind that he has sent in all this time. my gaurd went up, because i have to expect its manipulation. i was going to say you didnt lose me you thru me away. (dumb.) or ignore it. (prob would have been best.) but instead, an hour later, i wrote, “haha of course youre not. im the best thing thats ever happened to you.” he responded, “yes u r.” definitely drunk.
so, the lady who I talked crap about yesterday called me today and was super nice and encouraging. yes, im a dick. but, also, i am completely drained after a lifetime of being used by narcopaths. (this is the delightful term my therapist says means pathological narcissists, who would be my grandma, my mom, and most of my partners! :D) maybe it’s true, i can’t deny there’s a pattern. if im an empath (which supposedly just means very empathetic, which i know to be true), then i am a neon sign to these types of people.
its crazy tho, because I really do think im smart and careful and cautious. i have fucking cPTSD from my childhood and struggle with hypervigilance. isn’t the one positive thing of hypervigilance supposed to be that im actually vigilant– like, really, really vigilant? then why do i keep failing to spot these guys? how are they sneaking thru my radar?
it’s the unconscious mind. it’s so much more powerful than my conscious brain. and I just haven’t done things right. i haven’t figured it out. ive tried to be this little baby soldier. but i think im supposed to throw all the armor down and focus on taking care of baby me. that sounds logical. and ridiculous. and impossible. and like a ship that’s sailed long time ago. feeling very discouraged. and fragile.
he keeps texting me. so nice. asking can he come over, can he call, can he help me. baby soldier aint falling for it. hells no. one time he said (something like), “I know if i wanted to, i could have you fall madly in love with me, i could really blow your mind.” wtaf??! who says that? a nut! and who hears that but doesn’t run? another nut!
I swear that every day that passes, i see things clearer. and all these old ladies ive been gathering around me help so much. im grateful every day for older women.
I am nervous about what he’s going to do when i tell him he can’t come home for christmas. i think it best if we just visit him on christmas at his flat, so i can leave when the time comes and can’t be confined with him in a private space. but, i don’t think anyone, he or the kids, will go for it. my son, to whom i suggested the idea, said “ew no, gross.” next best would be letting him come over on christmas day for a few hours. i would have to have my guard up, and maybe lie and act like things are going to be more relaxed between us from then on, agreeing to go back to providing emotional support, etc. which im not going to do. and im nervous about that too– when he finds out that it’s not going to just be ’30 days of no communication’, but ‘forever of no communication’. because i have found that when he doesn’t get what he wants, he does some very sneaky underground crazy stuff that ends up making my life very complicated. he has less ability to do so now, since i have distance. but the financial ties scare me. i believe that’s where he will strike. he has to know im nervous about it. and i need to be prepared for something completely unpredictable and extreme. for myself, it doesnt matter, but a financial blow would definitely upset the kids lives, and he knows how much that would stress me out/hurt me.
I can’t belive im here again — trying to extricate myself and my children from a dangerous relationship ever so carefully. ive got to stop trying to do everything myself, and start looking to other people to show me the way to heal properly and grow stronger and safer. i can’t trust my instincts, they’re all muddled up. and this will be my greatest test of my life: putting my fate in the hands of others. this is that same path i keep running from. the path to a power outside of myself.
Today i saw my old therapist. she only charged me $30 for the hour, which was very generous and appreciated since i have taken on so many expenses with him leaving. she said her practice was not doing well or else she would offer to see me pro bono because she cares about me so much. this made me feel uncomfortable. when she offered to see me no charge two years ago, i couldn’t accept it. and i don’t like the idea of her caring about me, seems unprofessional, and makes me suspicious of her guidance. i think that may be just my trust issues talking, but i am not sure. i have never had a normal relationship with an authority figure, and i don’t know what that would be like. growing up i had no adults i could trust. i was responsible for the care of my little brothers, and felt it was us against the world. when i had my own children, i raised them with the same mentality. i always felt more like a big sister to them than a mother. i have a hard time inhabiting an adult world, as an adult. idk what im saying here.
my therapist listened for a while as I filled her in on my nightmare of a year, and then she got kind of tough-love on me, interrupting with, “why do you listen to anything this man says?” she was frustrated. i admitted that i realize now that i was lying to myself 2 years ago when i discussed him and the nonsense of our relationship and how i was distant from him and protecting myself. that i was actually only doing what i thought he wanted and telling myself i wanted it to. that i was just so desperately trying to get approval from a man who could and would never give it to me. she said she believes strongly that he is a psychopath and knows exactly what he’s doing. idk, maybe this is true. she said when you’re around someone who makes you so confused like this, that’s a sign. i said that ive always been so good at reading people, and he seems so earnestly innocent and seems like he really does care about me in his way, but his actions show something totally different, so i get confused that maybe he is just really fucked up and all the stuff he does is straight out of his unconscious mind, for self-protection or maybe to punish me for perceived slights. but that he doesn’t seem to do it consciously. it’s just crazy to think that i could have read him that wrongly. for 10 years. but either way, whether he devises his cruelty or it just happens because he’s fucked up, i know i can’t be around him. i can’t do it anymore, it was killing me, truly. and that’s what i need to focus on.
then she talked about her ex husband again, which makes me uncomfortable. I don’t like it when she tells me about her life or when she cries about her kids. normally, i would feel honored that someone would be open and vulnerable with me, but in this setting, it feels so unprofessional. i think maybe the reason i didn’t want to see her pro-bono is because i was afraid she’d do a lot more crying and personal stuff. like, she told me she had dreams about me, etc. it just felt super awkward. but, it’s a small town and $30 is manageable, and i like her in a lot of ways.
then I decided to go all in and attend an OA meeting afterward. i really did not want to do this for numerous reasons. sighhhhh. but i know i need to reach out and start making connections in order to be less isolated. on the way to the meeting he texted, “<3 have you thought any more about [college city]”. they’re going next mon, tues, weds and he got a really awesome hotel downtown. he’s insists he wants me to go, and maybe he’s sincere, who knows. one thing i know for sure is that i DO NOT want to go. i was clear with him before that i am not going. i didn’t respond to his text.
the OA meeting was at a church. I have trouble with churches, too many bad memories. when i went in i saw that it was only 2 ladies, both whom i remembered from before, both who i liked. they were really nice to me. when it came time for me to talk, i gave a very brief explanation of why i stopped going (trouble with the 3rd step– higher power), and the fact that I’d recently experienced a deep betrayal that led to extreme dissociation and depression. but altho I’ve gained 75 (!) pounds since i saw them last, i’d also lost 150 two weeks ago when i kicked out my bf of 10 years. clever stuff/s
they gave me their numbers and took mine and said they’re going to harass me. they’re really nice, and I think they get it. one of the ladies is 70 something. i used to hang out with her a bit when i went before. we’d go on walks. she’s really a wise one, but something about her troubles me, makes me uncomfortable, scares me. not sure what it is. i think it’s because she smells bad. like she doesn’t shower or wash her clothes. i know full well that’s a sign of depression, but she acts so chipper. she really seems like the cheeriest person. but she openly talks about how she always felt like she had to “have a ham hock around her neck to get kids to play with her”. weird analogy, but i get it. so she is not hiding the fact that she desperately needs approval. which would explain the cheeriness. part of me thinks that scares me because i don’t want to be there if she snaps into depression mode, because i wont know how to deal with it, dont want to get drawn in to another person’s emotional demands (ie my mom). another part of me thinks it scares me because i relate too closely. either way, i feel selfish, wanting the help, but not wanting to give it. wishing i could be an island. telling myself that not every older woman will be like my mom.
then this weird thing happened, which happens to me sometimes and i hate so much. i got her smell on me. i can still smell her. it’s been hours. she gave me a good long hug, but that couldn’t have done it, right? its got to be psychological? some kind of phantom smell? idk i have to go get dinner ready, but im going to change my clothes and pull my hair up and try not to think about it. ):
I feel different today. Not sure what it is. I said before that i finally saw a light at the end of a tunnel — to realize this is a tunnel and not an abyss was huge — but maybe now i feel that light. idk. one thing im doing is trying to remember, really get in touch with the person i was before him. i look at pictures and think, i don’t know her. or i think worse things, awful hateful things that come from the regret and pain of right now. but if i step out of all that and just think. try to get back in that head space. no, it wont be exactly the same. but she is me, one of the hundreds of iterations of me, and i can remember. and actually this is practice for when my kids leave in september. if i can do this, my next challenge is to find a way to remember who i was before i had them. so daunting. especially since i was a disaster.
one of the ways I am getting in touch with pre-him me is with music, of course, right? it’s very complicated tho because music is HIS. i think this is a good time to record how we met and a little bit about him and the relationship. we met on myspace! in august of 2006. we were both in a literature forum and started communicating about tolstoy, my fave. it was strictly a non-personal thing for a few weeks, but then his writing started to get to me. he has a way with words. he’s actually brilliant, in a way. he thinks very deeply in these beautiful and unique strands of mind. communing with that part of him is euphoric. it’s the best ive ever had. the deepest. those strands tho are so narrow and are totally disconnected. his mind is so rigidly compartmentalized, and his walls are reinforced a thousand times over. you can ride the bliss train down one of those trails and find yourself trapped in a nightmare of ambiguous hate and fear. brush one of the thorns, and the whole thing wakes up and starts to constrict. its horrible.
one of the areas in which he excels is art. he is not a creative person, altho I believe he once was very much so, but he has a true gift for recognizing art. what i brought into the situation was long years of studying, and a passion for, literature and film. i have limited experience with visual arts overall, but threw myself into film, first in film school and it blossomed from there. i have experienced real escape and transcendence through literature and film. and in these areas, he and i were quick to find connection.
in many ways tho we are different. where he is rigid, I am fluid. he is closed, i am open. in the very beginning he explained to me that he knew good art, and his opinion on that was unequivocal. that art is a real thing and “good” can be objectified and qualified. i felt that this was ridiculous, because art is an individual expressing an inner state, therefore it is inevitably subjective. a piece of art can do nothing for one person but then explode the mind of another person. maybe they can relate to something in it that the first person can’t. i felt, and still feel, that one person can never determine what will speak to the entire species. i mean wtf? that bothered me from day 1. but, i couldn’t argue with his taste. he did discount some amazing films, and i think this is where i first started doubting myself and feeling inferior. i was resentful, but didn’t know how to articulate myself. partly because he was triggering old feelings of insecurity, and altho i am a sharp debater, he was as cold and slippery as a fish. manipulative af. i can’t count how many times ive legitimately wondered whether he is a complete idiot or devious as hell. i still wonder. irregardless, he introduced me to a hundred films that expanded my world immensely.
while I was somewhat new to film, i was not new to literature. i have been escaping into books since i was 9. when i was 9 my mom left her abusive 2nd husband in the middle of the night with her 4 kids in tow. my sister and i were older and, since she could only choose 2 kids to take to the small apartment with her, she dropped us off at my grandparents, where we lived for the next 18 months. those months were traumatic for me, because my grandmother openly despised me. she was later diagnosed narcissistic personality disorder among other things. the family was well aware of her ways: she would pick a couple of favorites and terrorize everyone else. my grandfather was too afraid of her to intervene, so her house was a hellpit. her house was a meticulously clean hellpit, and children were not to touch anything or even sit on the couch. we were contained, along with her animals, in the back yard or garage during the day and straight to the guest bed at night. we were allowed no belongings, and our few clothes were kept in a box in the closet. my mother was too busy to visit more than once a month for a few minutes, dropping off money i think. most of my memories of that time were of hiding under furniture. if i did interact with her, generally i was being screamed at, hit, or called names. however, the boredom under the table was a massive problem for my always too curious mind, and i started sneaking books from her bookcases. mostly westerns and dirty romance novels.
I was a sheltered child and learned a lot from those books. but escapism was the dominant lesson. it never ended. as a goth teen i became obsessed with the romantic writers. as a young adult, i delved into non-fiction works of eastern religion, 19th and early 20th century american authors, and eventually Tolstoy. his fiction stole my heart. his non-fiction woke me up to what one man could offer. he was the ideal version of myself, and i loved him. i felt a strong sense of self in this area. one that took my ex many years to dismantle. i eventually came to feel separated from literature, and i no longer read. his dominant superiority claimed literature as his. aside from a handful of authors, any book i liked, he knew more about, critiqued harshly, confused me. i started doubting myself. if i read a book, he’d ask to see it and dismiss it, he’d already read it.
it’s very hard to explain this. it seems like, “Who cares?”, but it was a constant subtle undermining of my connection to things i loved. if he didn’t know more, like with the aforementioned handful, he would insert himself there. he’d study the author, he’d get into forums, he’d research the history. so if i ever mentioned it, he’d correct me. and i would be taken off guard and not know how to react. if that happened once in a while, it would be fine, that’s just life and learning and that’s great. but it was everything. it was constant. it was like a thousand tiny tentacles ever so lightly and innocently severing every last ligature of my body until i was floating lost in a sea of confusion and an inability to claim a self or reality. i recognize there is a sublime opportunity in this, and i have managed to seize it in many ways. unfortunately, the destruction of my frail self-esteem has made it incredibly difficult.
music…is a whole other thing. sighhhhh. i think i have to explain a little more: my mother was a fundamentalist christian who had worked tirelessly to keep her children safe from the secular world. nice and cloistered in the twisted, perverted molester world of the pentecostal churches. the most succinct description I can give is one she repeatedly told me, somehow unaware of how nuts it proved her to be: when i was 2 she discovered my father had been cheating on her. when confronted he silently packed one bag and left. she scooped up my 4-year-old sister and i and went to live with people from her church. they counseled her to burn all of my fathers things, which she did. every last picture. (might not have been that big of a deal if he hadn’t been killed 3 years later, leaving us nothing of him. but that’s another story.) these church people told her she was still too attached to things and instructed her to kill her beloved cat. when she couldn’t, they killed the cat in front of her, and she lost her mind and went wandering. when she was picked up, she was covered with sores and all her hair and nails had fallen out. she was admitted to the hospital, a mental institution, where she recovered for 6 months. during this time, she allowed my sister and i to be kept by the church people. i have had dark wonderings about what happened to us there. if nothing else it is a fundamental layer to the pattern of my life of being abandoned and unprotected.
she was released to my grandparents care. they took the three of us in. she was constantly in and out of fugue states and often wandered for days with bleeding feet. she told everyone that she was in the hospital because my dad had been poisoning her with arsenic. i believed this as a child. as an adult, i realize that if there was arsnic in her blood, it would have been more likely the work of the insane cult she was involved with. and i think its fair to assume that my dad left the way he did because he was afraid of her volatile emotional reaction, the same fear that came to rule my life for many decades.
back to the topic: I was raised for most of my childhood in an extreme fundamentalist home. one of the things we were not allowed was music. when i was 10, my grandfather bought me a small radio. i got a taste then. when i was 11, i was taken back to live with my mother and brothers, and the radio was confiscated. we were only allowed christian music, went to school at the church — if you could call it a school — and attended religious services 4 times per week in addition. she remarried a real sicko from the church. he abused us terribly with her as witness. when i went to the school for help, i was kicked out of the home: i came home, terrified of what they would do to me for telling, only to find two black bags with my things on the front porch. this is when life began for me.
I lived with friends until i finished high school. i stayed out all night, i met interesting people, i lived in clubs and bars and coffee shops that had all night music. i went homeless after graduating. i lived in flop houses and in cars. i fell in love with music; it was a huge part of the real world. it was a huge part of me, i realized. i listened to goth music, 80s darkwave, industrial, 60s and 70s psychodelic (mainstream), and some punk. when i got pregnant, i had to pull it together. i found a job, an apartment. i didn’t go out anymore. but, music was still so important to me. we were dirt poor, but my kids were raised with books and music.
when I met my ex, i had my little soundtrack of loved music, only about a dozen were obscure bands, something that didn’t mean a lot to me at the time. but music is his deepest calling. i think in another dimension he could be some creative genius musician. in yet another, he’s a world-famous producer. the man has an uncanny ability to find amazing music. he has a relentless drive to search it out. and his dominance is most thoroughly presented in this world by “his” music. he collects it, like badges of his own worth, and plays it constantly. he wakes up: he puts on music. he drives: music. he goes to the lake: bluetooth playing music. he sleeps: music. our home became his domain because he always dictated the music. it was like living inside of his mind. or his mind expanding and encasing the home. “well, just change the music!”, you say! “put something else on!” and i did that! at first a lot. i said, hey its my turn. but when my music was on, he would pout and pace. he would never say anything outright– he’s too polite– but his body language and energy would be super negative, making things uncomfortable. so instead of being able to relax and enjoy the music, it became like a stand-off. playing my music became a rebellious act. a fight. and i hated that.
and so I would fight less and less. I would go thru phases where I’d get some energy, and I’d kick up some dust, make a big deal. but mostly, i was so tired. and his music was really good. i loved it. within the first year, he copied all my old beat-up discs to an external hard drive. made sense. easy access. i gave my brother a garbage bag full of them. (he sold them for heroine, incidentally.) then the hard drive fell off the desk, and i couldn’t get it to work. it was going to cost almost $300 to have a computer guy pull the music off. money i didn’t have. i tried to list everything on there, but couldn’t remember over half of it. eventually, i never listened to music that wasn’t his. presented to me with his domineering stamp of approval. “this is good. listen to this”
and eventually, I just disconnected from it all. it was too hard. i was too drained with the other stuff going on, the sex stuff and the emotional roller-coaster. he constantly pushed his choice of books and movies and music on me. i was choked with it. i stopped liking movies, i stopped reading. i started driving in silence and tuning out his music when my home felt like a trap. and now i have an iPod full of his music. not a single song unconnected to him. we use google music on our phones, and it’s so hard to remember who i was before, and what i listened to. when i try, i hear him in my head, telling me whats good and what’s shit.
so its been pretty silent around here. im afraid to play anything, because I don’t want to think about him. i have played a little reggae, because reggae is so positive and powerful it escapes him. and the ramones were always mine. he tried, but he could never get inside that. and I’ve been digging around online finding old favorites that he trashed, and i gave up on.
I think its one of those things that time will heal. i have to believe I’ll come back to it. i’ll be able to read and watch and listen all by myself again. i’ll be able to say, “this is what i think.” full stop.
I didn’t purposely skip day 13, altho it’s fun to imagine that I would be that suspicious. I actually skipped posting yesterday, because i had to attend to my back. that included opiates and laying prone or on back with legs propped. I have this disability that usually lets me feel pretty normal as long as i don’t do anything or go anywhere. sitting for periods longer than 30 min, esp in a car, standing for 20, esp that shuffling walk/stand you do while shopping, anything like that can trigger a flare up. exercising more than a tiny bit at a time? flare up.
I was in a car accident years ago and then surgery on my spine/discs. in one area of my spine, where i lost 90% of one disc, there’s a bunch of “junk” (my neurologists word), just kinda hanging out. as long as there’s no inflammation, im relatively pain-free. anything that causes even the slightest inflammation, like say, a good workout, yoga, etc., causes connection between the junk and random nerves. once that happens, the pain causes the muscles to gaurd, or bunch up. more pressing, more pain. i have learned over the years, and the many hospital visits when it got so bad i couldn’t walk or control my bladder, some ways to get that shit to calm down. mainly, i lay prone as much as possible, take all the drugs to calm the muscles, and i say mantras, literally, to my lizard brain to try to soothe the fears that keep things reacting. this can take a day or two, or MONTHS! sighhhh its crazy. it’s also very discouraging and depressing.
its hard for me to gauge how much activity I can get away with. usually walking is ok if i stay very moderate and don’t try to go too long. i really want to do yoga for the emotional healing it is supposed to offer, but the dominance of core-strengthening gets me every time. i got the easiest, easiest DVD, which isn’t easy enough since im basically an infant. and i tried to modify her easy poses to make them easier. i wasn’t stupid enough to go for plank, but i did her modified plank. seemed OK. i really dont know what set my back off this time. probably the yoga, but could have been my dog pulling the leash, the insane emotional stress, the very slight tapering off benzodiazipines im trying to sneak thru, idk.
whatever it was, I did no excercise two days ago, but the nerve pain persisted. so yesterday i aggressively treated: ice, heat, legs on the wedge, stretches, medications. i only can tolerate 1/2 of a norco, so that’s what i took. it makes me very dizzy and happy. i have to be very careful for the next day or two, because they are so addictive. as a person with a tendency toward escapism/addiction, it has been a challenge using opiates responsibly for the last 12 years, but, except for a slight dalliance in the beginning, im proud to say i have done so.
anyway, today I am letting myself do a little more, not much. it was impossible to stay in bed this morning because my son has decided its time to get organized. I’ve got a little bit of the control freak going, and when i hear him doing stuff, i can’t stand not knowing what he’s putting where. then when i see him working, i want to help. so we organized the back hall which desperately needed it. then he cleaned the filthy sliding glass door (5 animals) while i scrubbed down the kitchen. one side of the blinds were sickening. plus i washed down the cabinets and shelves and walls and cleaned the hell out of the toaster oven. then he worked on the laundry area, while i dusted the dining room, living room, and entry way. they’re all really just one big room, but i like breaking it up like that. 🙂 i took breaks in between and stretched, so hopefully i don’t regret it, because it felt amazing! im cleaning the kitchen blinds thinking, “how did i let things get like this??” its crazy. i feel like Eomer, the King of Rohan when Gandalf finally exorcised Saruman. at least my eyes seemed to lose that depression-glaze. wish the fat and wrinkles would fade away as quickly.
also, well, I texted him yesterday. it was the first real discussion. i was drugged BTW, but still, i know i am responsible for it. it happened because i saw that the girl he was involved with last, the one who caused a lot of grief for me, lets call her…sally. well, sally had a twitter account where she liked to post lots of videos of them together. sex stuff. it was a pit of self-flaggelation for me. watching the videos, saving them, watching and rewatching. letting the pain fill me with the promise that This Misery would be the fuel i needed to finally get rid of him. i obsessed on it. it wasn’t healthy at all. and then one day, her twitter was gone. no doubt suspended, as it had been numerous times for violations — of their rules and greater good of humanity. it was a pretty fetid site, with lots of highly photoshopped weird angle butt shots, posts about males being filth pigs who needed to pay her, and long diatribes about how “wifey” is a disgusting worthless POS. she also had trouble keeping clients, because she really didn’t know how to do the domme thing. all of her obsessive posts about him irritated her small client base who had a hard time worshipping their findomme when she was basically begging one of the pigs to come back to her. so, in addition to the wives and gfs that found her site, they probably also reported her. and she got shut down. and that was very freeing for me. once it was gone. i still had the pix and videos, but i was not compelled daily to see if there was more. because there was always more.
since it went down 6 months ago, I have occasionally checked it, scratching that old itch. i hoped, for her sake, she’d moved on to something she was better at. but then, yesterday, there it was, all fresh and new. this time, smartly, blocked. of course it’s easy to make a fake account and get approved by her to see her nonsense, look for more. and if we were still together, sadly, i might have done. but, we aren’t, and im not. im letting it go. but not before making the big assumption that he had something to do with it. that she was back posting her rubbish on twitter because he was free and they’re together. and while i have no control over that, i do have control, for a very short amount of time, of my kids. and i felt like no way is he taking them on a road trip if he’s self-destructing with this idiot again. if he’s back involved with her, he’s also binge drinking, and who knows what else. so yeah. that’s where my head was
its’ too long to transcribe*, but basically, I was like “no it’s not a good idea for you to go on this trip if you’re self-destructing (btw, that’s his explanation/description of why he did all the things he did: his dad got sick, he had a “mid-life crisis” (debunked phenomenon), and self-destructed).”
he was like “what, huh? idk what you’re talking about! i know nothing about it! dear god i hope she’s not posting pix of me again!”
and im like, “whatever dude, i don’t believe you.
and he’s like, “omg i love you i love the kids, i swear im not involved with her in any way. im hating this silence between us. dont you miss me dont you want to watch movies and cuddle? i dont know what you’re thinking, and dont tell me not to worry about it! why dont you let me come over and help around the house and we can talk about stuff.”
im like, “no i have plans.”
he’s like, “cancel them.”
im like “no. and btw the house is fine everything is fine.”
he’s like, “im sure you’re doing well i feel empty inside but please dont cancel the trip, im really looking forward to seeing you guys.”
so i said, “idk let me think about it”
today I wrote,
OK talked with kids, they aren’t into (one college)’s tour enough to warrant the risk of the pass. I am still willing to allow them to go if you swear you aren’t doing any crazy stuff (to include, but not limited to, whores and binge drinking). i decided not to go.
the (other college) tour starts at 1pm and with interviews could go as late as 4. that would put you back on the hwy pretty late. maybe consider enjoying the city that evening and staying another night?
as for the emptiness you feel. you felt it before you met me, so it’s no surprise you’re feeling it again. you will get used to it, and you may eventually, through your own effort or just dumb luck, find something that fills it again.
I thought this was a pretty decent summation. he flipped out asking why im being so fucking mean when he’s so sad. and im acting like we’re not getting back together. and no he’s not whoring, but yes he’s still drinking. he said it’s who he is.
i said “im sorry to hear that. alcoholism is an insidious disease” and he got riled anew.
so i said, “im sorry i gtg”
and he said,
u want honesty then don’t make me need to lie to you in order that u dont cut me off. that is fucking mean. why are you doing this? what do you want?
i said,
all im saying is I don’t want the kids around it. not just directly, but even an alcoholic who’s barely holding it together til they’re gone and he can get wasted again.
im sorry I really do have to go.
he said,
why are you fucking with me. im so sad.
I said,
it’s OK to be sad
he said,
yeah maybe its ok. doesn’t feel ok. I need to move on this drinking before it’s too late.
end of communication.
*the text i put in call-out quotes is exact, the rest is paraphrase.
so, all in all I think it was an OK exchange. i held my ground and didn’t get dragged into emotional back and forth. i kept it on topic. for all his ‘i love you’s and im sad’s’, the reality is, he doesn’t want to be together. breaking up is just hard. ours was literally (!) his first relationship, so this is his first break up. god. so nuts. ive been thru half a dozen serious break ups, so i can be grateful for that. i am trying to avoid caretaking, which is a role i so easily slide into and one he desperately wants me to inhabit. i gave him a tiny bit, that last text, and resisted more. as much as a part of me wants him to suffer for the bs he put me thru, i don’t really want him to. i love him and truly want the best for him in the long run. im just very angry and hurt by the way everything happened, but i am myself to blame in part for allowing it. i knew from DAY 1 who he is. not exactly, but my instincts told me to run, and i did not. so.
somebody shoot me, please. I have serious lapses in judgement, and today i made my life infinitely harder by happening onto his facebook page and discovering a new post. he doesn’t post often, so i was surprised to see that on Dec 4 he posted a song. it was a blues song, old Pink Floyd, but it was gleeful and irreverant. the chorus was something about being free like a bird on the wing.
if there was some part of me that still believed what he’s said over and over again about this being a trial and how we need to get back together etc., well, yeah that’s gone. in the 12 days since he’s left, we have had very clipped interactions. but he’s managed to throw in “baby” and heart faces almost every time. what lies. because his action, to post that happy-im-free song, is what’s real
maybe I didn’t get it. the song. maybe it was a sarcastic happy im free. (it wasn’t.) it could be that he did it to hurt me, but im not that stupid. and even if he did? that’s some pretty cruel shit. more reason to run. there’s literally no way to twist it to make this not a slap in the face, intentional or not. especially with our history.
our history…when I decided to do this blog, it was to be 30 daily blogs about him, about the breakup. to help me cope with the 30 days of no communication, of wondering, of hating myself. and it has helped! yay, that’s one good thing. but i also have a list of topics I’d like to cover during this 30 days, before i move on to hopefully more interesting and less self-indulgent blog topics. my list includes things like the way we met, the oddity of the relationship and how it stretched me to my emotional labor limits, the decision to cut him off as an act of sacrifice for the relationship and as guided by my therapist, the discovery of his infidelity and all the crazy shit he had been doing for those 6 months, and at some point a pro-con list. i always love those. and i greatly look forward to seeing the con list swell like an enormous manly penis over the sad pinky pro list. sighhhhhhhh yes, what deep satisfaction that will bring…
but trust me when I say that his posting of that song, saying oh how lovely to be free like a bird on the wing, is really a cruel, very sick thing that he did. and even tho it is expertly cutting, there is a chance he drunkenly stumbled into it. the good news is — the grand and unbelievably beautiful news?!? i don’t have to ponder it! i dont have to figure it out! i dont have to let it hurt me! it doesn’t fucking matter! he is one. tiny. person. one damaged, sick, selfish person. one that i dont have to know anymore. and i am so grateful that i started reading those “cheesy” breakup books and facing the fact that, oh, no, this is for real, yo. because otherwise his cruel post would have gutted me so deep. it hurt, but i was already on that path, so it hurt a little less.
there was communication yesterday. I hated to do it, but it is impossible to plan a 3-day, 2 state excursion thru teenagers without them knowing we’re not speaking. at the point when my son was like, ‘why dont you just tell him?”, i realized ok shit, I’ll have to text him. it went like this:
Questions about college trip?
no?
you have a 5 min window to talk to me
right now?
or at a chosen time
now
how are you?
what have you been feeling?
I mean about the trip
oh
ok..ummm..ill book a hotel tomorrow..im
leaning against …
*actually this is the businessy part
and is boring and insignificant so I’ll skip*
I may be going too
you cool with that? me going too?
yeah 4 sure
4 sure?
what about the dogs?
ok I gtg. i don’t feel comfortable with your
response. not sure I’ll go
no u need to come
its important
rereading my response I don’t see
what made u uncomfortable. I want you
to come. it will have been nearly 3 weeks by
that time. think that is long enough
sorry im pretty busy I’ll think about it
(open arm emojis) eagerly await your answer
*later:
hey baby..r u ok with me deciding
which hotel..any requests?
that’s fine
whatever you want to do
thanks!
pls check your email…make
sure you are OK with these places.
im sure they’re fine.
was thinking more along “nice”
but yeah they’re close to schools with
24 h cancellation if weather gets too bad
end of commuications
ok so, im not proud of myself here. that whole gtg not comfortable with your responses maybe I wont go is obvs stupid and childish. also manipulative and confusing. i blame it on the fact that im super uncomfortable with any type of normalized communication. i just don’t know how to act. nothing comes natural. also, he may seem to come across like a normal person, nice even. but its fake. he acts nice! he always acts nice! but he is not nice. he is passive-aggressive and cruel. and when i can wring up the courage to tell the story, it will be evident. anyone would barf if they knew the story and then read that text transcript.
getting back to the important thing, myself: I did not exercise today, because i was very busy and got stuck at the auto shop for 4 hours whilst they fixed some bolts in my door that they screwed up (get it?) last month when i got an oil change. these are the joys of life! /s but i did eat decently and i will meditate 10 min tonight. also, i finished knitting the gift for my cousin and will mail tomorrow. Also, i agreed to meet my ex-therapist next wednesday. i am not hopeful for this visit, and dread certain aspects of it. there were problems before. but i am desperate and fragile and many times throughout each day i find myself sincerely wondering, “can i do this?”. so i thought, yes just do it.
and I have written down the time and place of an AA meeting in town tomorrow. i really want to try to go. i will have to overcome a lot of internal strife to do it, but it could happen.
11 days is nothing. 11 days is a vast length of time. both are true. I feel like I have been through so much and that so much has changed in the last 11 days. it boggles my mind that it has only been this long. I decided we wouldn’t communicate for 30 days except for the utmost necessity, and yet i think it has been 4 times. they were at least 99% businessy. but now there is a possible problem.
my kids want to interview at a college two states away and tour at another in a neighboring state during the first week of winter break, the week of the 18th. this is a wise idea for them, but it causes a serious problem for me. either I stick with my plan to not communicate with him and let him take them, missing an exciting, memorable event with my kids, or i go and be fake nice, which is excruciating for me, after everything. unfortunately, i cannot take them alone because of my disability.
my son asked him if would take them, and he jumped at the chance. flying would be ideal, but at this late date, it would be super expensive for 3 to travel to two different destinations (like 2k). my son told him I wanted to go if they drove– he misunderstood something I’d said, but i didn’t correct him. because im not sure what to do. my first instinct is hell fucking no! but staying home will make me feel like a loser no-good mother, and i’ll prob be depressed.
besides this sudden stomach-turner, I have been doing a little better. staying busy, eating well & exercising no-matter-what is helping a lot. im listening to a book called, Life Reimagined: The Science, Art, and Opportunity of Midlife by Barbara Bradley Hagerty. it’s great because it’s written by a journalist, so it’s straight forward (totally non-emotional). so far, her main point is that you can have a satisfying midlife and beyond if you really engage with life. but the best part is, it’s not about breakups or infidelity or any of that stuff. however it does interest me greatly, because I am 42 and have been grappling with death anxiety since 2012 when I visited my father’s grave for the first time since he died in 1980. OK, i have been dealing with death anxiety since i was 27 and had a psychotic break, or nervous breakdown. yes, i think that’s when it started.
BTW. death anxiety is a fascinating concept to consider. My favorite book that addresses it is Irvin Yalom’s “Existential Psychotherapy.”
Also, I have not responded to my ex-therapists offer to see me in two weeks for $30. it is a doable rate, but her response was cold, and i ended things with her for a reason. It’s just that this is a small town and her offer is affordable. but, is it worth it to get therapy that might not be good? hmmmm. another conundrum.
however, I did do some responsible things today. i scheduled to get my car looked at tomorrow, i set up the college interviews for my kids, i emailed their school counselor about something. all of this on top of walking, yoga, & showering. these things were almost impossible for me a month ago. so i really do appreciate this movement in a positive direction.
socially: I have tried to but failed to attend several AA meetings in my area. I am not an alcoholic, per se, but i have an addictive personality. i switch up my addictions. alcohol has been my drug of choice at times, altho less often than other vices. but AA meeting are ubiquitous and the conversations had in those rooms can be incredibly powerful. so im trying to get to one. still speaking about social connections, i look forward to my friend and her wife coming overfor dinner saturday. it will be interesting because they only eat raw meat now, and im curious what that’s like. my son wants to try it D: but not me bleck!!! i barely can stand meat. and tonight i have a phone date at 7 with my old friend jake who i haven’t talked to in years, but have known since 2003.
so, there’s a lot of positive things going on. focusing on that.
I have read that it takes 21 days to form a habit. in that case, im almost halfway to having broken the habit of him being here in my life daily. I know 10 years don’t melt away that fast, but at least it’s something to look forward to, hold on to. yesterday he forwarded me a late notice on a library book he’d checked out for me, with no message. i responded,
oh crap. I’ll return rn.
sorry 😦
he didn’t respond to that. no thank you baby, no heart eyes, like before. it’s OK. maybe he thought it’s what i want, maybe he was busy, maybe he’s pissed. who knows. but it dug at me the smallest amount. so today when he fwd me the cell phone bill asking if it looked right to me, that its higher than he expected, i didnt respond. i feel good about that. it’s a small slight — he can easily pull up the account and go over the details if he really wants to know, but it helped me feel better after yesterday. plus it allowed me to keep my promise to myself not to write. petty, i know.
I felt slightly better today. no, i would say better, not just slightly. not a lot tho.
today’s wins
I didn’t respond to said email
I exercised, did yoga, and “meditated” 10 min yesterday
I exercised today
ive been consistently showering again
I didn’t re-read any old messages or look thru photos like i have been, which I’ve failed to mention
im eating well, consistently
I slept last night
I ever so slightly flirted with my friend Jake from a long, long time ago — thru text
I made plans with a friend to have our families get together for dinner saturday
losses
I’ve failed to do any cleaning or organizing or smudging
ive failed to make calls and appointments that are overdue
ive been acutely aware of the quiet, specifically my lack of speaking
I reached out to my old therapist to see if she offers sliding-fee appts and she responded coldly. now i have to reply but not sure how to. another adulty task that repels me
I regret telling my friend the whole truth on some of the details about his affair (trust issue)
I am still taking a large amount of benzodiazepines daily
tonight I will take a shower, do the 10 min guided meditation that came with my yoga DVD, and then I’ll open my well-worn rumi book. this one specific collection has gotten me thru so many tough times in the past, but for some reason ive avoided it for a long time. i think a dumb part of me sees it as contaminated because i shared so much of it with him and he loved it too. but everybody loves rumi, so that means nothing. i want to read it tonight. tomorrow, i will make at least two business type call, and smudge the house.
so the grinding heartache continues. today on my drive over to the lake where I walk my dogs, i yelled and scream-cried again. i involuntarily yelled something like, “god damn you mother f**ker!” at first i thought i was yelling at him, but it soon became clear that i was talking to myself. “what the eff is wrong with you? whyyyyyyy? why? why? did you stay for so long? whyyy????! when you knew from the first day that he was dark and broken and couldn’t value you? why didn’t you say no when he wanted to come back? because you weren’t sure? because it was hard?! its only gotten harder and worse! every day, every time you got close to ending it. harder and worse! until now! look at this!!! look at yourself!!! and i know you want to think that in time you will find some value in it. that everything happens for a reason. but the only reason is your stupid insecurity and lack of self-esteem! because nothing positive came from the toxic relationships in the past, did it? look at andrew. look at charles. nothing good came from those. there was only wasted time and self- hate. that’s it. and those were only a couple of years!!! this is 10 years! ten years!!!
on and on it went. my poor dogs listening to this. ugh god I felt terrible
so I stop at starbucks to get a decaf mocha, what a joke — what is the point of a decaf mocha but to waste money and calories? it was symbolic. they mistakenly made it with caffiene, so remade, but gave me both and suggested i give the “real” one to a co-worker or friend. it was easier to take it, but i didn’t know what I’d do with it. hopefully not drink it. first, i really don’t want to splurge on junk twice in a day and 2 i don’t drink caffeine now. so when i get to the lake, i see this old guy who’s always there. he’s pretty rough-looking. he always parks his beat up van in the same strip as i do and walks to the picnic area by the playground and feeds the squirrels. he’s bundled up because it’s damn cold out (below freezing), and just so happens to be walking back to his van as i pull up. i decided, fuck it, I’ll give it to this guy. im more of a not-friendly type of person, so this is out of my comfort zone. also, I’ve been sobbing and not about to clean my face up for anyone. but i walk over anyway and offer it to him. he declines, says no he doesn’t drink that sugary shit. hmm ok. i thought maybe he suspected i’d poisoned it, which is exactly what i’d have suspected, but i try to remember that most people aren’t as nuts as i am. tho this guy could be. later on my walk i passed him as he sat on the retaining wall by the lake. i waved. very strange behavior on my part.
obviously I am no longer above acting like a total weirdo in public. i listened to the end of Anne Lamott’s “Hallelujah Anyway” and openly cried as i walked. at one point i bent double and literally almost collapsed onto the freezing path because i was so fraught with the existential angst of her words as she recounts forgiving her father for laughing when a stranger, a fisherman, ridiculed her hair as a child.
Sometimes at the lagoon, the water rushes out with furious velocity, but between high and low tide, it lingers, flat, before flowing out to join the blue-gray ocean. I felt a crabby compassion for my father, isolated in his ego, that jocular kennedy persona, exiled from hs family. and anyway, he was not the person who needed my forgiveness. neither was the other man. the men were portals, practice, training wheels: we are always the ones who need to be absolved, taken back into our hearts. i forgave myself for the fisherman’s words and behavior, for taking on his ugliness and making it something i believed to be true about myself. his words had gotten on me and in me, and then i had hoarded them, building evidence that i was right about being fundamentally wrong. i forgave myself for my father’s contempt and fear of women, gently released him to himself, in the same way you gently lift a hitchhiking monarch off your shoulder in a butterfly pavilion.
I curled up with [my memory of] Mom and Stevie. my mother had beautiful english skin, and long dark hair, but these aren’t who she was, any more than my hair was who i was. we are the final inside nesting doll. a baby feels and smells like god…babies are waves, mosaic chips of the unified field…images of tiny things, babies, yeast, and mustard seeds can guide us; things that grow are what change everything. moments of compassion, giving, grief, and wonder shift our behavior, get inside us and change realms we might not have agreed to have changed.
this addressed my self-hate in the car ride over: I must forgive myself. and the quest for the real self: the final inside nesting doll. and the eventual outcome of all this pain: long needed change in areas i don’t even have to be aware of. it will happen. i just have to keep going.
Station H 