I remember the man I fell in love with first rather vividly. I thought I was so lucky. He was handsome and lovely and we did everything together… except now I know that’s quite unhealthy and he was creating codependency in me.
His mental illness defeated him. It hurt me and scarred me deeply, too. Mental illness is a real issue that nobody likes to talk about. Most people need therapy, if only to have someone on their side, validating their point of view.
When you have a cheerleader who defends you from your point of view, which is typically very self-absorbed, it gives you a chance to grow. If you take a few baby steps from that point, you can zoom out just a little and consider that other people are just like you. They try, they fail, and it’s a shit show… until they start getting it right. It takes a lot of practice to get it right.
The same could be said for romance, but I won’t say it’s true, actually. I did what you should do every time. Listen, empathize, grow alongside of. Give love, freedom, and more love. Try to let that person become their best self of their own accord — not my instigation. Sure, I made some stupid mistakes here and there. I made a big one in my marriage: I started treating my ex-husband like a child… because he acted like a child and would never step up to be anything other than a child.
A child who wanted more children.
After being the only caretaker for four cats for years and years, I didn’t really fancy adding diaper changes to that. If he couldn’t scoop a litter box, he also couldn’t change a diaper. He would have pretend gagged over it to get out of it, just like the litter box.
I suppose I’m the villain for putting my foot down. I suppose I’m the villain for saving money by paying the bills myself instead of sharing the responsibility. I suppose I’m the villain for letting him force me into a joint account with him instead of keeping my money completely separate. I know now, I would have been so much happier if it had been separate. I could have saved thousands of dollars, of this I am positive.
He was the kind of idiot who enjoyed spending money he didn’t have. I am guilty of this in one regard: I wanted a water treatment system so that I could drink water straight from the tap. Bonus side-effects? Shampoo & conditioner lasted a hell of a lot longer. Cleaning products in general lasted a hell of a lot longer. Ultimately, it would save money after the initial investment because at $1 a gallon of water, and realizing I drink two gallons of water a day (including coffee), that comes out to 700 gallons a year… minimum. Sure, you pay a little bit for water in general, but not nearly as much as $1 a gallon. Plus, it’s better for the environment: the water isn’t being trucked all over the place.
My first love came back after a decade of being separated. I thought that was great; maybe we could try to fix it. Maybe we could get married after all, since he did propose to me under a rainbow at Niagara Falls. It was pretty sweet and very romantic… it would have sweeter if he hadn’t been fucking his mom’s friend, Carlotta, back home. Awkward.
I cried while we were together because I finally felt like I could experience some pent-up emotions. I had some semblance of safety to cling to. Instead of inquiring about why I cried… he assumed I was displeased with him. I am autistic, I’ll remind you, and in those days I barely spoke a word. You would have had to tease it out of me over the length of hours, probably, to get the full story. Did he bother? Nope!
Automatically, he was the reason.
Only a guilty conscience could decide such a thing, if you ask me. Or someone completely mentally ill. I think he might have been both, really. So he left, going back to whence he came after a six week visit, and started to treat me how he felt. Terrible, in a word. He was so cruel to me, I cannot even begin. In fact, I’ve blocked it out. After six months of crying because of him being a bastard to me, I dumped him. I started chasing someone closer to home that I met through work. A shy guy, I think, based on what I recall about Michael.
Eventually, I realized I wanted what Tom offered me. That was my first love’s name. Hugh Thomas Burr. He went by Tom. We would write poetry together and stuff like that, which was really special to me. I missed it! Who wouldn’t, if that tickled their fancy?
I also missed all the giant red flags everywhere.
So I went to visit him. While stuck with him, he raped me. Not once, not twice, but three times.
It disintegrated in so many ways and yet ten years later, he comes back to me. He doesn’t even apologize, he just hovers around, not telling a soul why I might snap and snarl in his direction, putting it all on my drinking at the time. I just divorced my husband and kinda wanted to die, not realizing my ex-husband also raped me. In fact, I haven’t been in a relationship that didn’t involve rape. Not the angry kind, no. The kind where I say okay and I am never happy at the end. Not YES, PLEASE! Just okay… you know, where you could be in the mood if they put in a little work, but you’re not yet in the mood at all.
The human body can be forced into arousal. If you recall what I said about force, you will understand this is rape. So, I not only let it happen, I kind of encouraged it… because I was raped as a child by a pedophile. Literally, orgasms were something other people gave me when they felt like it.
Imagine my surprise when Lord God comes around and tells me I’ve been raped. It’s why I’m spiritually sick. It’s why I don’t want to live anymore. It’s why I’m shattered and broken.
I had to admit to myself somewhere along the way that Burr never changed. As soon as I even mentioned rekindling anything, he reverted back to the insecure little bitch he’d become at the end of our relationship a decade prior. This is when I realized that people might change, but they won’t change for me, for us.
Really, he needed a therapist, but since he raped me (and he knew it) and he didn’t even offer me an apology… what am I meant to think about the bastard?
His was kind of violent. He attacked me in a castle on a self-guided tour, unprovoked completely. I was upset because I realized he was seeing another woman by the time I walked through his front door. I would never do that, sleep with a taken man. Not to mention do it in the middle of a castle where strangers walked in on us.
#Ihatepeople
P.S. His defense is (was): You hurt me. You deserve to be hurt. That is the lesson I learned from that sack of shit: do unto others to make them feel how you feel about what they do unto you. It’s also very wrong and I have unlearned it since then, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t done it to anyone else ever, and for that, I am sorry. He felt insecure, so he did to me whatever it took to make me feel insecure. Ever since, I have had difficulties… so many difficulties.
Angel-Sansara 