Beshter (beshter) wrote,

  • Mood:


You know the drill, emo...move along...really this is on the advice of several therapist friends, and I wouldn't even make it public if they didn't tell me to, (cause apparently that's the whole point, I don't discuss my feelings with anyone but myself). And yes, yes, I'm going to go see about a therapist sometime this week. Really...don't read this if you don't want to see the raw nastiness of my head at the moment. It's not pretty, and I'm rather ashamed of it.

If this situation could be any worse, I don't know how.

My friends who are psych people say journaling is good for someone like me, I have a very hard time articulating myself verbally, and let's not forget I'm not the world's most open person. I can swallow emotions like nobody's business, and not blink doing it. This is my problem. Perhaps I wouldn't have had all of this heartbreak now if I had been more honest with myself years ago and faced my fears.

Or perhaps I still would, it's hard to tell.

copperdragonfly speaks about stages of grief in situations like this, and I"m trying to remind myself that all that I'm feeling is normal. I'm not wrong in feeling the way I do. Akin to a death, this is the loss of a big part of my life, a massive part. Everywhere I go and everything I do is a reminder of something I had and cherished so much, and that I don't have a right to anymore. Every aspect of my adult life has been affected by this person, and it's heart-rending to have lost that.

There is a lot of shame involved right now. Shame because a part of me says I should have known better, this is pretty standard and typical behavior out of him. Shame in knowing that I still want him so badily it aches. Shame in knowing that I don't want anyone else, and even if someone else came along and got through the mindfield of what is left of me at this moment I wouldn't love them nearly as much as I loved him. I feel shame in that because it's not fair. I feel shame that I didn't see all of this coming a mile away, and that I allowed myself to fall prey to this again. I feel shame that I even went along with this eleven years ago, because i knew it was wrong and I hurt someone I had no intention of hurting. And I can't ever make up for that. I don't think I will ever stop feeling guilty for that.

Perhaps that's why in a sick sort of way I wonder if this isn't what I deserved, the same fate as her. After all as was done unto her, so shall be done unto me, huh? That's the Calvinist that I ignore in me talking, I'm afraid. LOL

I'm angry. Spitting angry, raging angry, St. Michael with his flaming sword ready to smite angry. I'm pissed as hell. Eleven years....after all I gave to him. I gave up my dignity, my self-respect, I have people who still think of me as a bitch and a whore because of what I did. There is a part of that which is justified, the part that knows what I was getting into getting involved with someone who was married at the time. But all the times after, the times where I stood up for him against people who were his enemies, when I stood up to those who were his friends. I called out people who I was close to for their behavior towards him. I was told I was an idiot for loving him so much, for being his friend, for trying to change him. I was told I'd rue the day I stood by his side. And I did it anyway, our of loyalty, out of friendship, out of love. I gave up on those friends and stood by his side. Now I look around and realize that they are all gone, and now so is he. And that makes me angry.

But that's not even the worst. The worst is the anger I feel towards him for so casually using me for his fall back. Sex with him was never so simple for me. It wasn't about getting off or using him as replacement for someone real in my life. The truth was I gave him a bit of myself. And sure, it wasn't always love, especially not at the beginning, but it was always a gift. It was always allowing him to glimpse a side of me that no one else ever had or ever cared to. And I wonder now about that. I made it OK in my mind all those years for the physical relationship to remain even when he was quite obviously involved with others. I think it was because I knew that was the only part of himself he would ever give me, and I took it. I made it OK in my mind to do it, and that was wrong. I shouldn't have. I should have called him out on this a long time ago, and I was too chickenshit to do it, because I loved him and wanted him and wanted him to want me. And so I took whatever scraps he threw me. So I'm very angry with myself for doing that. And I'm angry with him for using me like that.

I'm angry that he never wanted to move the sun and the stars for me. Nothing can every explain how hurt I was when he told he me was in love with another woman the first time. He changed his entire life for this woman, his religion, where he lived, his social habits all for this woman. She screwed him over in the end. But he tried so hard. And now with the new woman he is doing the same. What did I get? A half-assed discussion of a proposal, a request to give up my life, the one I was just getting back from years of school, and meet his demands if I really wanted to be with him.

I couldn't do it. First of all I was scared, frightened that I would never live up to the expectations of the woman he was in love with. And second I wasn't willing to give up my life for him without something in return. He had never said "I love you" even. There had been sweet moments, tender moments, but I hadn't even known they were "relationship" moments. He'd given me those things when he was dating other women. I had no sense that I was the one he needed and wanted in his life, like he was for me. He says now he could never be that for me, he thought he could then. But I got no sense of that. All I got was that I had to change for him. No compromise, no desire to, he didn't want to change. I got the sense that all he wanted was someoen to fill the desire he had to marry and have children, and I was the closest, most desperate person he could find.

He says that isn't the case. I don't know if I want to believe him or not on that. I don't know what is more painful to think of. If if isn't the case, it means I screwed up and didn't take the heart that was offered to me when I should have. If it is, then I was nothing more than a place filler, and he never loved me in the first place.

You would think that if he loved me he would have tried harder to convince me of that instead of letting me go on believing that he never wanted me. You would have figured he would have tried harder to make a relationship between us. You would have thought he would have been honest with me. Instead he just continued to sleep with me and continued to have me believe something that wasn't true.

I kept telling him and it was like he never understood.

And I was afraid, afraid to bring it up and confront him point blank because if I did I'd find out the I have it makes me wish I had found it out a long time ago.

I feel lost at the moment. My entire life centered on him in so many ways, anyone who knows me knows that. Whatever he wanted I'd do, I'd talk to him ad nauseum, for hours of my day. He would call from wherever, work, home, doing laundry, on a trip up the coast, cross country, from freakin' Israel. He would call me while running between planes at Heathrow. I would be at work in the middle of the day and he would call, drunk off his ass, having gotten in a fight with some petite Russian girl in Jerusalem somewhere. Mind you he's built like a linebacker, 6'8, tall and big.

When there wasn't phone calls, there were emails, or IM's, no matter how inconvenient they were for me. I wouldn't say anything. There were long stretches where he was unemployed and would pester me at work for entertainment, and I would get in trouble because of it. No one else bothers to talk to me like that, not even my family. Hours of mindless drabble about everything, life, religion, politics, stupid TV commercials, we'd watch television together. That was the heartbeat of my day, just reaching out and talking to him.

I still have it in a way, but it's strained. I can't just call him whenever I want now, and he certainly doesn't call me. He likes to video chat while i'm in class, but really...I don't know what to say to him now. I gave him everything I was on a silver platter and he told me that he didn't want it. What am I supposed to say now. Common sense says I shouldn't talk to him, and likely I won't, but I crave that connection. My days are silent and quiet now. No one to talk to. My other friends don't talk. They hang out from time to time. My roomie hides in the backyard more often than not. I speak ot Jenn on a fairly regular basis on IM, just because I'm lonely. I know she is too.

But I miss him. I miss having in jokes and catch phrases, and things only the two of us understand and find pizza eating bears. I don't feel I have a right to that anymore. Those are things I shared with a person I loved, but he doesn't want me. He wants someone else, someone who doesn't share those things with him.

I know it's stupid but it makes those things feel cheap, that they have been lessened somehow. I know he doesn't feel that, but I do. Hell, I can't go to Morro Bay anymore, that was his favorite place. I can't go to Solvang, or San Francisco because every bit of it reminds me of him. Hell...Rome reminds me of him. I would talk to him every day while I was in Rome, and wish that he could see the great things i was seeing, and come to love them the way I did.

He did Rome ina few hours over a couple of days. He didn't love it like I did. But at least he went, I suppose.

The heartbeat of my day is gone. Someone else has it. A friend told me to think of this as being a widow, getting over the loss of a husband, but that was morbid. Besides he isn't dead, he's with someone else, someone who was more desirable than me. I suppose in that sense it's more like a divorce. Just like a divorce I got no choice. I was told X, Y, and Z, and was made to live with it. No questions, no chance to even figure out how to fix it. Only the cliche of "I'm sorry it's not you, it's me."

Do you know how hard it is to swallow that line when you see that over and over again you've been passed over for other people? Pretty soon you realize it is just a placation. It really isn't about you, it really is about me. It's about the fact I wasn't enough for you to want to try.

And considering he's told me every single line he's ever given to his friends when they are sleeping around on their women and keeping them on the side, I know that he can say these things with sincerity. And of course I doubt, he's given me course to. Years ago you chose someone else over me, for much the same reason. But you never fought for me....not even once. Of course it is about me not being what you want.

Which leads me to think why am I not good enough?

Now most of you would object completely to that and say, "you deserve more," or "Don't listen to that you are worth more than that." Intellectually I want to believe that. But I seem to have a history of men who all told me how perfect and wonderful I was, all of whom wanted to be with me, hell even asked me to marry them, and then promptly turned around and fell for people who were horrible for them, and who they admitted were horrible for them. And I'm told, "It's not about you."

Yes it is about me. Perhaps you are fucked in the head, perhaps you have bad taste in women, perhaps you do have some stupid ass misconception of me that I'm the fuckin' Virgin Mary or something, (dear God, I think I'd rather be in her shoes right now). But in the end it is about me not being what you want. What part about that don't you get? And I want to know why? Cause obviously this is a pattern in my life. I need to correct this somehow so that someone else can want me, cause obviously you don't, and the person before you didn't, and the person before that. And they all used this exact line. You all can't have the same head trauma, the same derangements, so there has to be some flaw in who I am that makes you all believe I'm too...what, good, perfect, kind, nice, whatever? What am I supposed to be? A neurotic, clingy, pathetic woman who needs fixing? Hell, I might have that going for me soon? Am I supposed to be a femme fatale, a sexpot who fucks anything in sight because I have such deep and abiding issues that I need to be fixed or saved from myself? Sorry, I can't see myself turning into a sex crazed fiend anytime soon, it's why I bought a brand new toy, (I TOLD YOU NOT TO READ THIS, you're own fault if your squicked). What do I need to do to be desirable to someone who will want to be with me? Be less independent, be less smart? Perhaps hide the fact I'm working on a masters? Hell, do you see my spelling, I can hide that fairly well. Should I be less of a Christian, change how I dress, how I act? I need to know, because obviously being me doesn't work. Being me means I get used for years by men who can't tell me dick and like to lead me on. And when I move heaven and earth for them, they drop me on my ass, treat me like shit, and then tell me "it's not you, it's me."

I horribly wish I had never, ever heard that line.

I think I've realized some things about myself though. I can't ever fall for men who are charismatic anymore, who are sweet, or who make me feel special. I can't do that because it is all lies. I can't trust that what you say to me today will mean anything tomorrow. I can't trust that in a week, a month, six, a year, when you find out how geeky I am and quiet I am, how i like to write fanfic and watch football, or that I can't stand peeing outside that you get sick of me and find someone else. I can't trust that you won't use my desperation and fear of being alone against me, or that you won't dangle me around for years, knowing I'll give in to your whims and taking advantage of that because you can.

Besides, I'm broken goods now. Hey, maybe that will score me someone, I'm a nice fix-it job. Someone pass the glue.
Tags: (emo)

  • The Depths of Despair...

    Oh dear Anne Shirley, I know what you meant by that phrase, the depths of despair. I've been wallowing in it now for the better part of a week. I…

  • Just a thought and a prayer for me if you would...

    Just a thought and prayer from people out there. This is the first year where I will be alone for my birthday. Not totally, the roomie will be here,…

  • Woo Boy...

    Think that my roomie has finally lost it. Tonight I got yelled at about what a bad person Patric was because of the angst he's going through, and how…

Comments for this post were disabled by the author