You're probably wondering where the hell I've been and what the hell I'm talking about. Approximately Christmas time I met someone. Everything was magical and pure.
I am pulling my same usual bullshit of running away. Why the hell am I running from something so completely magical?? Why do I seem to find every reason under the sun to be mad? There is nothing to be mad about. I have him. I have a wonderful, loving, honest, and giving man. ... But I'm still mad.
I have begun an intensive form of therapy to begin working on the things I need so desperately to fix about myself. To fix all the wrongs I learned as a child and have clung to as an adult. I want to be better than that. I want to be better than a string of poor excuses. Rape, incest, abuse, neglect... no matter the poison I must choose to be better than that. I must choose to live for me, for now, for life... and let go of all those pains.
This weekend I pushed him away harder than ever. I packed my things and called my mother for a ride. I stormed past him repeatedly taking my bags to the car one-by-one. I refused to make eye contact. I needed him to stop me.
My therapy has brought me upon a new topic I'd rather not approach... my father. I love him dearly. I see so many good things in him. We have had moments where I felt our bond was unbreakable. This is not that year. When I was 8 or so... I fell off the rocking chair in the living room. I cried out for him in the kitchen... he chose not to come. Lying on the floor in tears, this is how I seem to always be. An inexcusable mess of a human being unable to pick myself up without someone else telling me I am okay. My father didn't come... and when I told him I had fallen his best console was that I probably wouldn't use the rocking chair like that again... would I?
The mess applies in my relationships. I tell him the story of my father... and that very night the situation presents itself. A small fire starts on the stove and I yell for him... twice. The child beside him on the couch teaching him to play the video game says to him, "she's calling you". He stays still. Once I have the fire out and I have the pasta drained he strolls into the kitchen. His best response, "what could be so important about draining pasta"? I look at him with darts of hurt diving through my heart and out of my eyes into him.
I walk away. I eat dinner alone. I sleep on my edge of the bed. The next morning he walks in as if nothing has changed. "You coming with me to get the Brat?". ... that's what I get. Not an apology for his choosing to ignore me in that moment and through the night. I tell myself that I can't need him because I need him more than he is willing to be needed. I decide I must end all dependency. He leaves and I pack.
We spent the weekend apart. The first since the day we met. We have not spent hardly a pinch of time apart, not one full day. In the beginning he told me he loved that. He loved that I always wanted to be with him.
He didn't call. He didn't write. He didn't come... I cried. I cried sopping wet, fat tears into his shirt desperately sniffing any smell I could between sobs. I cried wishing he would come. I cried wishing I hadn't left. I cried praying I didn't just fuck up the best thing that had ever happened to me. Sunday afternoon I emailed him... without response. Monday morning I logged on to find more silence. Finally, I couldn't stand it...
"So this means were done then?"
No... we're not done, I hope. He spent the weekend relaxing with friends and pleasuring himself without me. I feel sick. I feel so completely sick! I feel useless, replacable, broken, and so fucked up!!
I try to tell him it sounds like he had a good weekend without me. He says... "Should I have sat around and cried all weekend? I know better than to waste my time being miserable, it doesn't help."
I try to tell him how replacable I feel. He says... "if you keep saying it, I'm going to start to believe it".
I try to tell him how... un-special I feel. He says... "how?"
I try to tell him I don't think he wants to be here with me. He says... "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be".
... Really? Not one word of reassurance. Not one... "I love you more than you will ever know! Yes, I hurt this weekend, but I had to go on for my kid. I hated being without you... only you." I feel empty. He tells me he can't reassure me all the time and that he can't always says exactly what I need to hear. But where does it end? I know I am demanding ... but throw me a fucking bone!!! Make me feel just a little like I matter because right now, I don't! Not one little bit!!
I lay in bed clothed, a very very rare occasion as you might guess. He asks why, and I tell him I don't feel safe yet. I tell him I don't now how to explain it and he warns me of farts. I tried again to talk... to tell him. He tells me to try, but I've tried, over and over. I can't right now, I have nothing left to give. All I can do is turn over and sob because somehow... I know I did this. I turned us upside down.
Honest to fucking god... how should I feel? It was magical. He made me feel real with kindness, hoesty, and loyalty. He made me feel heard. He made me feel special and one-of-a-kind. But what now? I love him so much! But now... I just feel upside down. Now... I don't know if it's fixable. The weekened I spent sobbing... I needed him to fix me.
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