Every time I close my eyes, there he is, kissing me, touching me. It’s always been that way. It used to fill me with breathless anticipation.
Now it just pisses me the fuck off. I wish I could just get him out of me.
It’s day 5 of my period and I’m still gushing like a firehose. My uterus does not like being invaded. It’s especdially galling that the primary reason for even having the damned IUD is now completely irrelevant.
Fucking fucking fuck.
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liberal application of alcohol yay
just only one utter breakdown. record these days.
<3 karaoke
Do I want to discuss?
The part of me that is always breathless to see him says, “Yes! Yes, let’s discuss immediately right now; wherever you are, I’ll be right there!”
The part of me that is hurting says, “No. I see no way to avoid getting eviscerated. Not right now. Not ’til I’m stronger.”
The part of me that is angry says, “I don’t trust you. I don’t want to wonder whether whatever you’re saying is BS or not.”
The part of me that is afraid says, “Will you just hold me and make it all better? I’m afraid that you won’t.”
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You know that I’m going to forgive him, anyway, regardless whether or not he acknowledges or concurs with anything I’ve said, whether he’s remorseful or not, whether he wants forgiveness or not.
You know that I’m likely to write off this whole episode because of all that’s happened to him this year, because he’s been so reeling and distracted and probably entirely oblivious. Frankly he’s taken a lot of hard blows in quick succession, and it hasn’t helped at all that so many people around him are taking hard blows themselves and leaning on him hard for support – support that he’s in no condition whatsoever to give. As often as he tells me he’s got to make sure he’s okay before he can be of use to anyone, he still jumps when other people call out. He simply can’t do otherwise. I know how that is. I’m the same way.
Sometimes I wonder if he stopped feeling so passionately about me because I wasn’t quite needy enough, because I wasn’t constantly calling him with some crisis from elsewhere in my life that I need him to get me through. That seems to be the recipe sometimes. I’m just not wired like that.
Sometimes I wonder if he stopped feeling so passionately about me because I was too needy. I didn’t get needy until I got insecure, which wasn’t until he was already cooling, but still, did I hasten the process?
Sometimes I wonder if he stopped feeling so passionately about me because of something else, something I am not aware of. That’s the scariest thing. Is there something about me I know nothing about that drives people away? If I don’t know about it, what can I do about it? I don’t get the chance to fix it, whatever it is.
I hope he’ll forgive me. I’m not blameless. I messed stuff up. I wasn’t clear. I accused a lot. I feel bad for not being understanding enough, not being sympathetic enough. That gets confusing because with so little communication, half the time I worried that something horrible happened, and it turned out to be nothing (and then I was furious with him), and the other half the time I assumed nothing happened, and it turned out to be something horrible (and then I was furious with myself). I always had the wrong response because I never knew what was going on. I just went on with whatever the last information was. I feel horrible for getting that wrong all the time, but I am not sure what the right thing would have been. Well, I’m still sorry that I fucked it all up.
I feel bad even getting so upset when he’s got enough on his plate to make things hard for him. I feel horrible about being one more thing. Part of me wishes I’d kept my mouth shut and said nothing. But would my unspoken hostility and pain have helped anything? Would have dropping contact entirely have helped anything? Would faking my way through Monday nights with a plastic smile have helped anything?
I’m so driven. It’s so powerful, the urge to soothe his pain and bring him whatever joys I can. To provide, to be useful. Is that oppressive? Is that what I did? Did I smother?
Now I can’t do anything for him. And now I may have hurt him so much that he doesn’t want anything from me. For awhile, at least.
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– Edit: I didn’t realize that I still had some Private entries left. They’re moved now. 7/29
When you just couldn’t wait to see me, you’d ask me to come over at 3 or 3:30 on my days off.
You’d ask me to come over after work whenever possible, whenever you didn’t have something else planned already, and sometimes even when you did, after the plans were over.
You’d call me and text me often, just to talk to me, not because it had to be some important message.
You’d be online in instant messenger. You’d actually show up as online. You’d chat with me. You’d -initiate- chats with me.
When these things slowed down and then stopped, and I had the audacity to notice, it was all in my head. It was me imagining things. It was coincidental. It was bad timing. It was normal. This is how you normally are.
Well guess what. That’s because in the normal course of life you’re not acting like someone in love. And previously you were. Why did you try to pass that off on me? Like there’s something wrong with me.
I don’t know whether you were in love or not; I just know that you were acting like it. I don’t know that you’ve ever been in love. For all I know, you’re somebody who grows to love people instead of falling in. That’s fine.
What I object to is that when a change occurred and I noticed it and I said something, I was discounted and refuted and made out to be all wrong for even saying anything. I was accused of passive agressiveness. I was accused of emotional blackmail. I was run over the coals, and that’s a goddamned asshole thing to do.
And then punishing me by putting us on hold? Because you felt like you’re doing everything wrong? Because you were worried that I have to totally change everything to be compatible with you, and you’re not comfortable with that? Well, fucking duh! Trying to maintain the position that you’re in love with me when you’re not will make everything you do come out wrong. The context is too different.
Not only that, but what you were talking about was breaking up, and you stood there and said to me that it’s only breaking up if -I- choose to call it that. That’s a cop-out, and it’s lame. It’s somebody who wants out of something and doesn’t care to say so. It’s beneath you.
No, I know that you didn’t put us on hold for the purpose of punishing me. But that was the effect. You weren’t in love; it didn’t penalize you much. You’d already been diminishing contact. Fuck, you were already there. There was nothing new about it for you at all. What pain did “taking a break” cause you?
It was incredibly hard on me. It’s been agonizingly hard on me.
Hell, maybe it was the right thing to do.
No. Breaking up with me honestly would have been the right thing to do. Stretching this out was cruel.
I know you don’t like reading this. I know that you prefer face-to-face for this kind of thing. Just this once, dammit, I’m not bowing to your preferences. If you can’t stand to read this now, then read this later. If you can’t be bothered to read it at all, then judge yourself. Some little time ago I moved everything from this period from the Relationship filter to one with just you. I also moved all the relevant Private entries to a filter with just you. It’s all tagged “relationship”.
Take your time. If you’re following The Recipe, you have about 8 years, give or take.
And why couldn’t you be bothered to fulfill your promise to take me to karaoke? Of all the promises you ever made me, that’s by far the easiest to pull off. What was so goddamned difficult about that? Were you ashamed? Were you embarrassed? What? I can forgive stuff that’s hard. This is easy. This is cake. Unless there is some great big secret that makes that so difficult. Like maybe the big mystery that makes me the person you talk to least at practice, barring Jim. Me and Jim, Jim and me; the two people you barely exchange words with. That feels real nice. At least you don’t hug Jim; that would really make me feel like pond scum.
That’s actually not such a big mystery. I know that you are ashamed. I know you don’t want people seeing you talk to me. I know that you regret having let me get that close. Don’t worry, I won’t crowd you. If I could get away with just dropping my kids off, I would, but there’s a legal problem with that. I’m getting really good at milling about the periphery and hoking and joking with others. I’ll leave you well alone.
It’s really funny. The more you ignore me, the less other people do. I’ve hit upon the key to acceptance.
When you just couldn’t wait to see me, you’d ask me to come over at 3 or 3:30 on my days off. I remember that. You just couldn’t wait.
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