The Song

Received a missed call from a Colorado number about a week after DSB left. Received a mail forwarding notification from Colorado about a week later. I’m not even TRYING to go back to that, and I’m trying not to think about it.

I think this song sums it up perfectly (that and I’m ragingly emotional from loss of cigarettes…Day Two, you kicked my ass).

Six Days Post-Breakup

itsnotmeitsyou

 

I have been working hard at banishing the thought from my head that this breakup and the most-negative contents of the relationship were my fault.  I have been writing lists, indicating things I can do now that I wasn’t “allowed” to before.  They’re written everywhere.  On my computer, on junk mail, in my  planner, on scraps of paper, on the back of Kizz’s heartworm med box.  Whenever I have a thought, about something I can do now that I couldn’t do then, I write it down.  In my mind, this will free me from the bad feelings I have about this relationship.

More importantly, I hope it will free me from the thinking that the mistreatment of me and my pup during the relationship were not my fault.  I guess I could just start a mantra, “This was not my fault, this was not my fault, this was not my fault,” but I don’t think that would work.  I need concrete examples.

My memory of the past two years is a bit hazy.  When I was severely ill, a lot of those memories didn’t get locked down tight.  And, I’m just guessing, that a lot of the traumatic moments between us didn’t get remembered either, simply because of their nature.  But the thing is, the last six months of the relationship are crystal clear.

And guess what?  This was not my fault.  I try to tell myself this.  But I can’t help but wondering why I stayed so long, why I put up with the things I did, why I went along with the things he wanted me to do, why I let him put me in a little, tiny box and throw away the key to the outside world.

I am like a woman, half-drowned, getting her first gasps of air.  I am socializing now, even if it’s only immediate family (and Rock, of course).  I am staying up later and finding no ill effects.  I am doing what I want to do during the day, when I am not at work, and it is such a freeing feeling.

In the m0nths before we broke up, I was always trying to stay at work late or come in early, because I didn’t want to be at  home.  I signed up for every mission, every bank run, every errand.  I just did not want to go home.  And, at the time, that wasn’t a big red flag to me.

I saw my dad today, and he helped me take a ton of DSB’s medical supplies to the hospital to donate.  I know I should probably hang onto some of the other stuff he left, just in case, but those medical supplies were expensive and I know that is what he wanted done with them.  It is so nice to have all of those cardboard boxes out of my living room.  I mean, the living room has been packed with them since January and now, nothing but furniture and a TV.  I’m loving that, and so is Kizzie, because she gets to hang out on Momma’s lap while we watch mindless TV.

It is going to take me and mom a lot of time, but we’re going to get the house totally cleared up.  Rugs professionally cleaned, furniture steam cleaned, the works.  She’s also going to do some patching on a few holes in the plaster that have been gone through with a chair.  She says, and I believe her, that we will have this place so clean that I won’t believe it, and it will be very easy to keep it that way.  She even dangled the carrot that it would be possible that, if it were cleaned up and kept clean, that my sister might want to visit with my nephew.  I could die, if that happened.

It would be great period, if I could start having people over again and not be ashamed of what my house looks like.  My stepsister and her two kids will hopefully come this summer, if I can get the pool operational.  My dad, although he doesn’t like Kizzie (afraid of dogs), might even come in and we can sit outside in my backyard and shoot the shit.  My mom kept coming over through it all, but she did tell me how much more comfortable she is coming over now that he is not here.  I guess I’m so oblivious, that I didn’t realize she was uncomfortable in the first place.

This is a time of growth, and I am having more good times than bad times (although I’m not sleeping), and I’d have to say that getting him out of here is the best decision I have made in ages.  Years.  A really long time, anyway.  Now I just have to start building myself back up from the ground, which will likely be a daunting project, but I’m ready for it.  I have some goals I want to accomplish, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I need anyone’s permission, and I can focus on what it is that makes me happy.

 

wallow im awesome

 

Life in Waves

I didn’t publish anything last night for the first time in awhile because, I dunno, I wanted to not think about anything.  Kizzie and I watched the new episode of Grimm and then I went to bed for a fitful night’s sleep.  I just can’t stop thinking.

Life is coming in waves right now.  I feel sad and confused.  I feel angry and resentful.  I feel relieved and happy.  I feel like I’m feeling too much sometimes.  I don’t miss drinking, but part of me wishes I still did so I could just blot out the next few weeks or so while I get used to being alone.

I started the day on a rough note.  French vanilla creamer in hot coffee.  It’s gotta go.  It reminds me too much of our coffee mornings, back when we actually had them.  When things felt okay.  I think I’ll go back to doing it like I did before, and drink it cold.  I always did like it that way and it’s appropriate with oncoming Summer.

I wrote a list today that I emailed to my therapist.  It is basically a list of all the good things, the positive differences that come about with DSB gone.  It’s four pages single-spaced.  You’d think that if I could come up with four full pages of why it’s better to be alone than to be with him, that I wouldn’t be having any problems.  I guess that’s not the case.

The night is the hardest.  And the morning.  And around lunchtime.  It’s all hard, who I am kidding?  Even though I know he didn’t treat me well for the most part, my predictable life is gone.  I can do what I want now, and I am doing what I want.  I stayed out tonight ’till dark, and DSB would never have allowed that.  It worries me a little that I might mess up my sleep schedule, but I don’t know who I’m kidding with that one since I’m not sleeping anyway.

There are some things that have to be dealt with.  Like the big project boat sitting out in my backyard.  I’m tired of looking at it; get a big ol’ pang in my chest when I see it everyday.  I tried to tell Mom and the Big Dawg that it was killing the grass, but Mom cut straight to the chase.  She knows why I want that boat gone.

Kind of like all the welding projects he had in the works for people.  They’re all sitting up in my garage.  I can hardly stand to go in there.  I don’t know how those people are gonna get their stuff, half-finished, that they have already paid for part of.  I don’t have their contact information and I doubt DSB is doing anything about it.  It makes me feel a little sick to my stomach, but the Big Dawg said he would take care of any issues.  I’m supposed to just send people down to the bait shop.  He is saving me there, but that’s not unusual.  He saves me on a daily basis.

What I can’t seem to get over is why I was treated so badly, when I tried so very hard to make him happy.  I did everything around the house, cooked his favorite meals, brought him his dinner, refilled his glass, did all the grocery shopping, stopped almost every day and picked up (and paid for) something to drink, to eat, to have.  I rarely got more than a thank you, and I often got nothing.

Mom had Rock, our main employee and the son they’ve never had, over tonight when I was there.  We’ve always been acquaintances, never really talked about anything.  But you know, the things he said, he wants to help me anyway he can and he really does care.  It’s nice to have people who care and it makes one wonder why sticking to someone who obviously didn’t care for so long happened.

I was feeling really crappy toward the end of the evening and he came inside and ate dinner with me while QoB and the Big Dawg sat out on the deck, and we had a really good, meaningful conversation.  I felt a million times better after talking to him, and I know that was his aim.  He is going through something similar with his girlfriend, and we can just relate to each other.  I can see that in time I might start feeling like he’s my brother, too.  I don’t blame Mom and the Big Dawg for wanting to adopt him, at all.  He’s just that good of a kid.

It’s just nice to feel like people care, is all I’m saying.  I spent a long time feeling like the main person in my life didn’t care, no matter how much I did for him.  That is a bad and empty and hollow feeling.

I don’t want to feel that way anymore.

 

Now when  I’m feeling spunkier, this is the song I’d like to dedicate to DSB.  I’ll probably listen a few dozen times and then try and get some sleep.

 

When it Officially Fell Apart: 16:30, April 30

Do you ever find you get in the same argument with your significant other, over and over?  There are always promises to do better, to change, to love more and control less.  In our case, they never happened, those promises.  They never bore fruit.

Just fifteen minutes after writing my last post, Uncertainty and Anxiety, I confronted DSB about why he never shows me any affection.  This is a common argument.  He had no answers, but told me I was the most selfish person he had ever met, including his ex-wife.  He said several other degrading things, mean-spirited comments, and then I guess I goaded him into leaving me.  That’s how he puts it.

What happened was more like me asking why he would want to be with someone he felt so negatively about, and him saying “I guess I’ll leave then.”  We’ve had this roundabout discussion numerous times.  If you have so many bad things to say about me, DSB, then why the FUCK are you still here?  I think that’s a valid question.

He said more mean things, and even brought my beloved family into the mix.  After hearing him spew bile about just what he thought about them, and about how my family didn’t care about me, not the way I thought they did, I had enough.  I told him I wanted him out, just as he said he’d be out by tomorrow.

As Dad said, funny how ballsy people who get their checks on the 1st are, right before they get their check.  I agree, Dad.

Do I think he’d been planning this for some time?  Yes and no.  We’ve been trying to make things work, but as my mom pointed out, this was just yet another abusive relationship.  Having to be certain places at certain times, not being able to have company over often, not being “allowed” to go to my mom’s whenever I wanted, having to have “permission” to do so many things.  Controlling.  Very.  Add to that the yelling and the name-calling and the blaming?  Yeah, it’s probably an abusive relationship.

And like an idiot, I let it go on for two years.  Two years of him not paying a single bill, living rent-free, making me do all the w0rk, and trying to keep me from my family.  Badmouthing people I cared about all the time.  Who does that?

I’m now several hours post-breakup and I’m feeling very sad.  I’m crying a lot, thinking about the good times we did have and wondering what I did to fuck that up so badly.  Petting Rascal, who I will probably never see again after tomorrow.  Looking at the one picture he allowed me to take of us, some two years ago.  Remembering how deep those feelings ran, and to a point, still do run.

I feel like I am losing my best friend, but I know that a week or a month down the road, I’ll see things differently.  I know I’ll realize how negative he was for me, how much he hurt me, and mostly, how unloved he made me feel.  Unlovable.  Seems to be my thing.

I guess on an upside, maybe all 0f this anxiety will quiet down.  Maybe I can sleep at night and not be bound to my home, by someone who never wants to go do anything or see anyone or go someplace.  Maybe someday I’ll realize that I’m worth more than that.

But for right now, I’m going to be sad.  It’s the end of the DSB and Rosa era, and we did have some good times.  He did pull me through some bad times, but I don’t owe that to him forever.  I pulled him through some of the worst times in his life, with nary a thank you.  It just seems really sad that what always seemed like a fairytale to me ended how it did.  When he showed who he really was and I failed to speak up when he labeled me things I am not.

I’m sorry this is so all over the place.  I’m really feeling emotionally wrecked right now and I can’t stop crying.  I’ve talked to Mom and the Big Dawg, and I just got off the phone with my dad.  My mom asked me if there was anything she could do.  My dad asked if there was anything he could do.  Other than making this better, fixed, which is not possible, please just say a prayer for strength for me.  If you don’t pray, that’s fine.  Send a shout-out into the Universe or light a candle or chant.  I really don’t care.  I need to find some peace so I can heal, and that doesn’t look too likely, at least for tonight.

It’s all I can do to keep from running in the other room and telling him to stop packing.  I was laying in bed when I heard NCIS: Los Angeles come on.  That was one of OUR shows, and he is in there watching it without me.  This is going to take a lot of getting used to, but it will be easier when he is out of MY house.  MY HOUSE.

Dammit.  There is nothing more to say for right now.  I need to cry some more and then try and get some sleep.  I just wish I could stop crying and suck it up.  Sometimes, even T-women have to cry, right, Madre?  xoxo