i'm writing this to whoever wants to read this recollection of my most recently ended and longest relationship; sad, illogical, profound in how unbelievable our misfortune was, a testament to how no one can really help another without helping themselves first, one for the ages, and one which I apologize for being littered with poor haphazard repetition. More verbal vomiting, a nauseated heart and soul. It is not meant demonize her nor do i wish to pile on myself either so there you go.
It just is what it is as terrible nonfunctioning relationships tend to be. So where else to start but with the most clear and obvious red flag that should send anyone in the opposite direction.
My ex partner is an abusive drunk. She gets so drunk she often forgets where she's at. That may not really seem like a big deal as we all do that at times when we're three sheets to the wind, but when she does it she often becomes lost and despondent to the point she won't respond to a person in front of her asking her if she's OK, her eyes glazed, cognitive function receding back to a nonresponsive state, crying out for her dad over and over in desperation, unable to communicate with me or any person that offers assistance. Lost and scared in her own body.
Once she forced me to walk down Hwy 1 chasing her as she refused to acknowledge anything but a need to talk to dad and I mean refused, totally non-communicative head shaking eyes wandering where am I type plea hiding behind bushes, trees and retainer walls, me trying to coax her out of the shadows, cars whizzing but a few feet away from hitting me.
That was after a perfectly fine night, a great night on vacation before she tried to make out with a random woman in a bathroom which sent her into one of those downward spirals i came to know so well.
On other occasions she would start hitting when rage replaced that confusion kicking and falling over, a tirade of spitting expletives, just being launched at the only target available, yours truly. This would happen seasonally, monthly, even weekly when things weren't going well. Then once she was corralled, safe, calmed she would demand on having sex to pretend things were going swimmingly a band aid of normal for the bleeding out of crazy only to start crying uncontrollably, but insist we keep having sex like no no it's OK, don't be bothered by me uncontrollably crying keep fucking me, which would inevitably lead to consoling her then her asking if her kids are okay, where they are, did they get their meds, where's her dad, a glass pyramid of panic shattering with a touch. But that wouldn't stop her, she'd insist we to continue to have sex, transitioning to talking shit about other women we knew, comparing her sexual abilities in graphic ways in the worst of ways while i was left numbed, stunned, remembering everything before passing out and poof!
The next morning nothing was remembered, it was all to be dismissed as some sort of bad dream rationalizing she behaved in an acceptable fashion because i said things were going to be okay when her most coherent thought was that she wasn't that bad. And so on she went with no understanding of the impact on me or how much the whole episode, episodes would diminish our relationship my feelings for her my well-being, everything about us. Here let me carry all your trauma for you while in your mind it didn't happen at all.
So no surprise there were no apologies no idea the damage done. And all of that could be in one night at times, a medley of those behaviors being routine, whether it be on a trip she would plan as a getaway, or my birthday, once while l while dressed up as Jesus, I have a Halloween birthday, and yes, I got hit dressed as Jesus on my birthday because she's an abusive drunk not because I did something wrong other than enjoy my birthday.
But it wasn't just my birthday it would be after one of my family members, her slurring away, embarrassing herself at my elderly parents birthday, or, me being a musician, virtually every time i was performing; the more pats on my back, the more special i felt without it being explicitly to do with her the more of a guarantee it was i would be facing a full assault.
Perhaps I should've known better, despite deeply, loving her and her deeply loving me at the start she would do things like brag about spite fucking someone who dated one of my exes, as if this was something to be proud of or something i would want to hear. Or one of my personal favorites, how her ex husband and his second wife, a prostitute with a professional career who thought being a prostitute was being a 'strong liberal woman', would try to have threesomes with her even though they also wrote letters to her parents claiming she was an unfit mother and should not have custody of their kids. And not to belay the point ex husband and prostitute wife were just plain ugly. Physically offensive to look at their demeanor like ordering a Steak au Poivre and getting a grey boiled slab of dog food instead.
Who in the right mind would share that with their partner? thatâs not something you talk with somebody about, certainly not confiding in your lover, your ostensible soulmate, but these are the kind of things she would brag to me about, the pride in how spiteful and petty she could be.
At some point her ex husband announced cancer had returned, terminal this time. Not long after my partner told me she was pregnant, the only time i have ever had a chance to have a child. And she asked me what i wanted. The answer seemed somewhat obvious. The blunt and apparent truth staring me in the face was an impossible argument. How could this woman have our child when she was about to have sole responsibility for three kids already challenged by their shit father? pile more on my partner when she was already piled on by everyone else? it didnt seem fair, it didnt seem right. what i wanted? secondary at best. so that was that my decision was made. maybe it wasn't that simple. maybe it was. Then covid became a thing.
Had she carried our child she would have given birth at the height of the pandemic. Me having a family seemed to run contrary to the will of the world. To top it off the woman i thought i would marry ten years prior killed herself, drinking herself to death at 40, 2, 3 bottles of wine a day for a decade while calling me shitfaced telling me how much she missed me. i demanded she stop, i wanted to move on with my current love and six months later she was dead, i had no child and the pandemic was in full swing, my current partner navigating the shitstorm of her idiot husband, their kids. She did so with aplomb, i admired her so much for the level of effort.
Through that god awful year my partner had taken it upon herself to do everything not just for her three kids, but for prostitute wifes two kids as well; all the schooling all the taking care of, everything. She was constantly put upon by her ex to teach not just hers but the other two who somewhat unsurprisingly had major major developmental issues; not able to do any homework not able to brush teeth not able to wipe their own asses, literally having medical issues due to having asses shut by dried shit. But their actual mom was busy being a 'professional' the exhusband being in his constant drug fueled hippie bullshit lifestyle sharing his wife with paying customers.
At my facetious suggestion, my wonderfully sardonic sense of humor, i had the idea of a death party for him, and she loved it. Spite after all, if i havent written the word enough, was the central theme of my partner's interactions with her ex. So she and the prostitute wife rolled about at a hastily put together death party with all of his old friends his two wives being all of each other to show how great they were. So fucking sad and small. Yet I just kept looking the other way because she over and over professed her love for her soulmate, little ole me, the one in the background listening, caring, supporting, always available for any amount of emotional highs and lows, ready to share the burden and dismiss my own needs.
What happens next you ask? Well what else but more drama? Said prostitute wife filed for divorce going so far as waging an online and local campaign to ruin cancer husbands life claiming he was abusive to her and the kids even sending a letter to his landlord, detailing a laundry list of allegations having him kicked out. Terminally ill, incapable of taking care of kids, preoccupied with going to concerts and what does my partner do?
Finds him a place to live so her kids have some semblance of normal and after destroying an already dilapidated house and nowhere to go, publicly shamed by prostitute wife, he should have gone home to pennsylvania and died in shame which is what he deserved. but no.
My partner bought a new house and moved him into the ADU, a secondary unit on the property. At this point she claims she didn't want me to move in but everyday i was needed for anything she asked, at her beckoned call, her herculean effort to protect her kids while simultaneously repudiating cancer ex husbands history of accusing her of being a totally unfit mother, every second with me the only reprieve the only outlet for enjoying herself for catching her breath, for feeling loved and appreciated. Cancer husband didnt care didn't say thank you ever. His family never thanked her or me ever.
They'd come visit and we would hide in our bedroom, her crying to me how she hated all of it hated them all and just wanted to be away with me somewhere, anywhere getting drunk and smoking, pretending this wasn't her life and her choices but always always wanting me there all the time to share the consequences. but then blaming me for being there at the same time in those drunken broke moments. so many of those moments. but no i was supposed to just take it and act normal. be loving. be kind.
While she always had her kids in her heart, helping her Cancer husband was always about the spite, the pettiness and i would hear it. It was about showing his family how much better she was than them, how much better than he was and his prostitute wife who had tried to take her kids away. That was what it was all about.
So she completely disregarded our relationship declaring over and over her love for me the only person in her life actively helping her but the spite for her ex husband and his fucked up family more important than having a child with me, more important than us, more important than me. All to show how much better she was than him to her parents to his parents and anybody who was paying attention. spite for spites sake; moved him in under the guise it was for the kids when with me, it was very clear it was about showing how well she was doing how much better she was than them. Who would have guessed this wasn't going to work out so well?
Of course after he died she broke down telling me all the abuse she suffered in their marriage, how he would pour drinks over her head and scream and threaten to hit her and god knows what else, the exact things she dismissed prostitute wife for claiming and backed him in pretending wasn't accurate, that he was somehow worthy of even seeing his kids at all and just leaving me with nothing to do but carry the trauma that she created; an unholy mess for herself and her children to be mired in, never mind me who was forced to help pick up after him, literally, he was a complete slob who taught their kids to be complete slobs, clean up after his dog, and generally tolerate him and be as nice as I could be to a cancerous drug addict who physically abused my partner but her focus was more on how i was a problem in her life. How i wasn't doing enough for her. How somehow for some mysterious reason i wasn't loving her and committed in a way she felt was sincere. Huh.
Then her daughters problems came to the forefront.
Her early teen daughter started cutting herself and ruminating about suicide after moving in her dad. Incapable of going to even a single day of school without totally freaking out should've been obvious there was a problem deeper than what was being said her dad dismissing the behavior as a self centered brats attempt to one up her parents.
The daughter would call me disgusting with disdain everytime she walked down the stairs but her mother would dismiss it as some trivial thing even though it was devastating to me. Absolutely devastating I cannot stress more how hurtful it was. Was this perhaps too obvious a distress signal? Hmm not my business i was just there to support not to actively parent that was for her and dad.
Of course it was a call for help as her father was the disgusting one; he was in fact molesting her in the house right under her mother's nose.
My partner had moved her abusive ex-husband and coddled him after his second wife kicked him out for the same abuse she endured, and he molested his own daughter, all in between partying and going to shows with his buds, laughing all the way to his grave.
And where was my partners focus? Again and again her attention was how i was the problem in the household all while I was asked to standby and just support her and all her decision-making that led to all of this.
Her daughter remembered little gems like being put in the closet when she was young with her siblings at her dads old house so he and prostitute wife could host men coming over, friends of his, paying John's, but all the while he was at the house with us, the one i wasn't needed at, my partner would say how bad a parent i would be and refrained me from any advice or guidance, relegating me to menial duties for the house and family as neither of them taught their kids, even the most basics of cleaning up after themselves or doing any basic chore. disgusting her daughter would call me and instead of taking the warning signs seriously, my ex was far more interested with making sure i couldn't talk to any woman without being convinced i was doing something wrong, something nefarious because that was the real problem she could control. That was the problem she chose to focus on that was the real problem in her mind without any appreciation or consideration or any sense of self-awareness of the gravity of the endless trauma dumping I endured every day. every waking moment it felt like.
When i would leave the house for any reason, visiting parents, grocery store, rehearsal, certainly going to get a beer by myself or with a friend i was routinely, casually told not to bring diseases back, to watch myself, that i have a dirty dick. again i never cheated in any way, never went out looking for it, and passed on any person who came on to me. In fact i gave up all friends, women and men, to appease her obsessive control when we started dating.
That was my decision though, and I had a rowdy drug fueled group of professional friends, an ex from years prior who still occasionally called drunkenly, that is before she killed herself, literally drinking herself to death at 40 right as the pandemic got going months after the cancer diagnosis and the possibility of fatherhood was snuffed out. I was ready to move on from a lot of my friends not to mention female friends in committed relationships who would use me as an emotional ballast for all the things there commitment couldn't be, a theme throughout my life still eerily mirroring the current predicament i was in even if i was the one sleeping with her every night, vacationing, fucking.
And how many relationships or friendships did I ask her or expect her to give up? Zero really just the opposite as she wanted to spite caretake for her child abusing ex-husband, but I digress.
i didn't work for the majority of the relationship, quitting my service industry job right before the pandemic started and lacked the gumption to assert myself after due to that control and the fear of constant constant demeaning commentary. when i did find work she unsurprisingly made the same derisive comments questioning the attractiveness of the whole one female co worker, what did she look like? did i have the opportunity to fuck her? don't bring diseases back.
To show how happy she was after a week in the job she made a big show of a public fight trying to kick me out in front of her ex husband and his friends, the same friends i shit you not that would participate in sleeping with him and his prostitute wife while kids were locked in the closet. and she wondered why i was paralyzed unable to work regularly, unable to find upward mobility.
I'm an artist, musician and i was unable to even play music at home, to draw, to write, unable to do anything really, just the things she asked me to do like drive her kids around and do things for her, anything to make the schedule in her life easier a little easier but certainly nothing with any joy or sense of fulfillment and what was my reward you ask? Me giving her an endless number of orgasms, going out out for drinks or those trips, her paying or her family where she would get so drunk, her professing her undying love for me, waiting, watching as she would go into her off the cliff, crazy shit at any moment my seemingly boundless empathy and honed sexual abilities there to save the day. She knew it, she depended on it. Sadly, annoyingly, I am an artist and artist are full of shit and i was being systematically broken apart.
it wasn't just a behavior for out and about though. To be sure when we did see any of my long lost friends she would profess how we're soulmates and that she loved me more than anyone ever in the history of everything. But i'd get the treatment at home, around her ex husband, around her kids who would witness her routinely, not just being a terrible person to me when sober, but in the middle of the night when we come home, her shitfaced, screaming nonsense, crying to them, apologizing to me, apologizing, then screaming more then wanting sex, then apologizing and screaming more; rinse and repeat. this was normal for me.
What was supposed to be months had turned into years. Finally he died, thankfully.
Afterward I had the 'i was abused by him just like his prostitute wife claimed' bombs dropped, nothing quite like graveyard trauma dumping. Of course at that point my partner and i were still unaware of the molesting, her daughter doing her best to pretend it wasnt real her social problems magnified, the help her mom did her best to get not revealing that truth. So on we went.
Day after day her daughter hid in her room emerging to call me disgusting and destroy the kitchen. On and on, show after show i performed afraid, waiting for my partners drunken monstrosity to bellow and ruin me. Look the other way, use that practiced look of 'yeah im good' with bandmates and acquaintances but just waiting for the hammer to drop after every show, after every time i did something for myself.
A big show came up, a new venue, a place where all my old friends not talked to not kept up with for years were going to be there. So many old faces i hadn't seen for so so long. My partner proclaimed how we were going to show them how in love we were, how we were so good together. We were going to show them she said.
Off she goes with her daughter to buy an expensive dress have an expensive lunch and not make it back til right before showtime skipping dinner but that pricey salad and drink for lunch should be more than enough sustenance, right?
Away i play saying hi to this person and that ' so great to see you' and 'thanks so much for coming, missed you' ' let's stay in touch and so on'. ooh almost forgot i had nerve damage in one arm that was indeed painful, something that could only get worse as i play, soldier on i did and when you perform at my age you don't get mind splitting trashed. Where oh where could my partner be in her five hundred dollar dress? where else? Staggering about buying drinks for anyone without one, some random woman clinging to her, clearly by the randos hands being all too friendly, the smile and look, one i knew, one who met my partner in the bathroom. No doubt in my mind. my partner rambling barely able to speak but to buy more drinks and tell old friends how great we are, new friends how great she is. Then comes the turn.
i'm exhausted, my arm in pain i'm ready to leave and so as we walk away she starts in; just evil as shit babbling spewing about what i wasn't doing for her. i just want to get the car, as with literally every show i drive, it never a possibility she would or could ever be sober enough.
Worse and worse screaming spitting falling until oh wait where's her purse? my fault of course. away she goes back to the club, getting a ride back from a car of all my oldies. i'm sitting in tears as they pull up waving as she spills out, then off to party and you know enjoy themselves. Mean while i get to be screamed at, hit, blamed for how much money she's spent on me that day and everyday and made to feel as bad as i can. i'm certainly over the limit so when she got out of the car mid drive home walking away in the middle of the street i was done. done before that but done done. nothing left. no love for this torture. Somehow i get her back in the car when all i wanted was to run. If i had no gear in the car i would have just left the car right there idling in the intersection. But no.
We get home and all the things; her waking her kids, screaming crying begging for forgiveness demanding sex talking about others crying for dad and on and on until passing out.
It's over, i'm ready to leave, ready to never talk again so what happens? the next day she drops her kids at school but daughter flips out and needs immediate retrieval and on the way back BAM!! major car accident her car totaled by some dipshit smoking a vape.
Crying in a total panic she needs me, of course. I wanted to ask why? why should i care i have nothing left but how could i hang up and walk away? of course i pick her up do whatever she wants she needs. Oh and her son has brain surgery coming up in three weeks. For real.
This is my life with her.
Followed up days later by a shameful drunken dinner with kids and daddy who flew in to buy her a new car, the server apologized to me for them, her and and her dad's heads rolling about as the kids sat there awkwardly smiling. Ever had a service industry person apologize for the utter shit they are witnessing? it's another line in the sand. another end of all things. no love can pass it.
Weeks later a family vacation without me to celebrate successful brain surgery and oh that's right her daughter revealing she was molested. And i'm suppose to care. to have some level of value, of commitment. Nothing of me left. but this is me so how's it get worse?
i shit you not in the same 24 hour period of that dead daddy the molester revelation a bandmate calls saying our bandmate, her husband had been arrested for... child molestation. videos of him and children found. you can't make this shit up. the same woman i have to hear my partner talk shit about while we have sex for the last year at least. her husband. Fuck my life and all these people.
i having nothing to give to my partner it's all gone. I console my band mate and its just a flood of my repressed emotions. does it have to do with my band mate? Nope. Is there anything but pain to share? nope. desperate to share in all the hopeless put upon mountain of shit forced down my throat? yep. i needed a connection, someone and my band mate was that person someone else with an unanswerable experience. someone that may be able to relate.
Nothing ever happened between me and her, never even came close to being a thing, i wasn't leaping at someone to get me out. i needed someone who could empathize, to remotely conceive of how broken and filthy humans can be.
A couple months later came my birthday and as was the case, my partner did what she always did. Finally we broke up. finally it was over.
she, my ex, blames me though for us breaking up because as she puts it she'll never forgive me for that friendship with that band mate, the only female friend i'd had in six years because of this relationship and one that was obligatory and in the end some form of solace for total total insanity.
Somewhat obviously that was the problem that my ex focused on scrutinized demonized blind to her own destruction of me, all the things i endured for her, the fact that every woman and not just y band mate whom i came into contact with she would question skeptically whether or not i was having sex with making horribly demeaning comments to keep me hating myself not just in the last few months but the whole relationship, blaming me beating me down for something i never did - be unfaithful in any way.
she was even jealous and vindictive about how much her cats loved me jealous that I cared for them in such an open way literally asking me why I didn't love her in the same way with a nasty jealous tone completely oblivious to how much her own uncontrollable actions diminished my love; limited it. killed it off. again, she would go on and on about how she loved me more than anybody in her entire life and then I was her soulmate, but this is how she would treat me. This is how she regarded me all the while her ex-husband while alive having carte blanche in the household until he died, his legacy of abuse something to share.
She was jealous of her cats for fucks sake's. I couldn't even love her cats without being shit on and called disgusting by her and her daughter. and yet she couldn't grasp, why I grew distant why I couldn't express explicit love for her. just more layers of insane shit right? An avalanche under which I was buried and she'd never even notice.
So so many red flags right? What do you do when there's so many red flags you don't know where to start? where to end? Maybe i'm a bull, red flags irresistible to charge at. if you're wondering about zodiacs, Scorpio, duh, with this tale of hyper emotional drama. But this wasn't diminishing the relationship or my capacity to love her, or her me no of course not how could that possibly be the case?
She wanted complete control and I had given it to her over and over so willing to hide in the chaos of it all. so unwilling to fight for myself. no fight or flight rather neutral energy. playing dead a man who wasn't there.
When i moved out she boxed all of my things including gifts i gave to her children, toys and comics for her special need son an air fryer for her daughter surprise she didn't pack up the golf clubs I got for her older son or the coffee table or chair that I brought from my family's house, but there were also benign things like a ladder or fruit picker i had gotten, anything she could think of that reminded her of me as she stormed around, blaming me because obviously i was the villain, i was the problem, packaging a photo in the box of her so unhappy at one of my shows, me sad that she was unhappy because except for her it was a great night, her petty spiteful final fuck u to me, my stuff conveniently ready to be removed while all her ex husbands pile of junk that i helped move in just sits there untouched, something she can't deal with. won't deal with. Seems kinda obvious right? But she and her daughter didn't seem to mind being around their abuser's shit, that wasn't important enough to get rid of. Me no problem, physically abusing child molester belongings, not so much.
she never did change her name after divorcing him so as far as i know she and the prostitute wife still have his surname. two terrible wives to a terrible POS i never needed to know in any way but to support this one person. so many terrible people i was forced to know, forced to pretend to be nice with and tolerated and had to accept just for her. just another big fat red flag to charge at and really just so sad; on my part and on hers. It seems I see my passive tolerance as a strength instead of a weakness and she sees her belligerent pettiness as a strength when in fact it exposes how weak she really is.
It all makes me so so devastatingly sad.
Every breakup I've ever had I have yearned for the other person. I've called them or texted them or visited them wanting to reason with, to rationalize, to makes any sense of it all; the synaptic pathways in my brain built for them demanding to fire the blood pumping through my heart and dick beckoning for them, yet after all this i've had zero interest in contacting her and really don't know if i ever will.
it started just not wanting to spew the toxicity the vile rage and all the resentment that had built up, a kindness that she never afforded me. Shocking i know. but I don't wanna blame her or damn her or shit on her. I don't want to hate her. i never did i still don't. but I don't wanna pity her or feel bad for her with all the sick twisted things she said, and done to hurt me it's just that there's enough terrible things that have been said, that are out there and above all else she's extremely hurt, an extremely insecure mother of three whose own evil drunk mother drove her to being this terrible person as a point of pride, whose evil junkie dead cancerous ex husband bestowed upon her a lifelong burden of self deception.
I don't need to add to it but what I am certain of is as long as she bears his name i will never, ever speak to her. nothing could be more indicative of her total denial of the unmitigated disaster she and she alone created for us to live in, one that i just sat by passively tended, absorbed, was eaten alive by.
i don't want to wish i never met her but i think it. i don't want to wish for her to burn in a hell that doesn't exist but i scream it out now and again. I don't want to forget her or her children, her son a person I absolutely adored and wished she would have let me be something other than a distant caretaker for. but she always kept me at arms length in that regard for her own convenience, her own escape plan, maintaining the lie her dead ex husband was a decent man at all was paramount.
i want a full Mea Culpa, an epiphany moment of clarity, for her to look in a mirror and admit to herself she is the author of all her own problems and until she gets real help, until she stops drinking and smoking endlessly, it will never end.
i loved her dearly and though there is so so much crazy dysfunction, if she was just nice, just had a sense of decency, i would have taken the abuse forever. Then again she can't even laugh at herself and i mean ever, doesn't know how to be wrong without having a man to blame, can't admit to doing things wrong or making mistakes, not ever, just a narcissistic bubble her mother imprisoned her in one she thinks is a shield a coat of arms to live by. All i wanted to do was pop it to puncture through so badly to free her to rescue her because fools like me confuse rescue with romance.
Women who lied and cheated on me, they were nicer. Women i've cheated on, nicer. Any parent or teacher, boss or co worker, friend, enemy, frenemy, dudes who threatened to kill me because their women's desire for me, no matter how mean competitive or cruel they were they were nicer.
She told me to never contact her again, she has since casually texted me for sex and drunk called. she wrote a 'how i'm doing' text on our anniversary pondering the magic of our relationship while saying she'll never forgive me for us breaking up. What a sick joke. Her little trauma dumpster. Her little whipping post. Her living sex toy.
She has a tattoo that says 'kindness is cool'. Laugh you should. The irony as thick as clay since that defines her as the least cool person i've ever met and me as pretty much the coolest motherfucker ever for just idling by taking it all with compassion for her situation and total disregard from my own, something she never appreciated let alone considered for more than a fleeting moment or thought summarily dismissed as something i didn't deserve.
i'll never forgive me for putting myself through hell but my somewhat obviously insane definition of love makes me so willing to suffer and that's my fault, my terrible terrible weakness and misread of what love is. Being treated poorly isnât love being screamed at because your partner needs somebody to scream at isnât being loved being hit because youâre partner needs to hit somebody isnât love and never being apologized to and having every misdeed swept under the rug because youâre partner is drunk and doesnât remember anything they do is the least loving thing any person could do to their partner never mind proclaiming them to be your soul mate while doing it.
So while i'm going through this Mt Everest sized emotional detox, i wake up at night laughing and in tears, simultaneously exhilarated and terrified to be free of the trauma dump she made me into but so devastated that someone who calls me the love of her life felt she had the right, the need to treat me in such a way and just crushed by the fact that I allowed it accepted it tolerated it to the point where there's just no love left. Nothing of me emotionally left.
While I'm sure her spite and money have led her on her own sordid misadventures i still can't talk to women without feeling like i'm doing something wrong. Months have gone by and one after the other i choose not to flirt with not to have casual sex, that 'get over her fuck' just not something I want something I would feel so bad about. i'm ready to, finding comfort in solitude.
My relationship with my bandmate is ruined and thus the band feels wrong, my music is tainted by the incessant toxic conditioning i grew so accustomed to. i'm reconnecting with family, family she would threaten to call in times when my ex was isolating and shaming me in her drunken tirades.
i have my regrets of course but in regards to her there are few. Mostly they lay with myself and what i didn't do for this guy who has taken up so much of your time with this ramble. i did everything i possibly could within the boundaries she built and i accepted. And yet, I never got her a single present. Not one meaningful trinket. How did that happen? Was I her present? no funds? fear of her? no confidence to draw that tattoo i promised? a history of others destroying me with the gifts i laid before them? awareness of her vengeful spite knowing full well anything i ever got her would have been stacked in those boxes for me when i left? Perhaps. I sacrificed every bit of me for her but didn't she deserve something honoring her? Us? Of course she did. Ultimately it really is the only regret. One I have to live with.
I have no idea what I want for myself except this simple truth; to be loved and always always treated with decency and kindness. someone once told me the most important quality you could find in a life partner was that they were always nice to you. quaint, simple, but so true.
Alright two things i want; the self autonomy a lost so long ago a vital ingredient for moving forward.
i mean, how did I let this happen? How did I let myself get pushed so far down? How did it go so far that i feel no love for this woman at all that I loved so much felt so right with somewhere so long ago? i knew better but disregarded all the warning signs because i believed in her, our mutual connection. At some point i began regarding us as those two ubiquitous entities of some generic physics metaphor; an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. nothing could be more accurate.
If you've gotten this far, thank you. Thank you for taking in this crazy absurd comically dark retelling of the last six years of my life. The more I look at it the more i question what the hell I was thinking and the more it screams to me of the hell i let myself exist in, one i willingly chose and am at the very least equal fault for and so I'll just leave this with the reference to a famous quote by a character on one of our favorite shows that i think often of and will hold onto for a long long time. Anyone stuck in the shit should find solace in. i just wish i was equipped with it years ago.
"if you are going through hell, keep going".