Archives for the month of: February, 2014

Photo Credit

I feel a bit on the edge tonight, it’s the first time I’ve had space to breathe in weeks- or at least it feels like weeks. I’m a bit torn up inside, because, contrary to what I’ve been demonstrating on the outside, things just aren’t sitting right with me. You came home… not because I invited you, but because someone on your side of the fence made me feel guilty about keeping you out. Despite my trepidation, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to see you-maybe I have my own addiction.

You came home as a model partner, regardless of the fact that you were rubbed raw yourself. Prepared to tow the line, and not for me, but for you this time. You invited me to your meetings and I met your counselor. You are taking the right steps… I got flowers at work yesterday and it was lovely… but tonight I just don’t feel lovely. I feel… tortured? Torn? I want to feel good about you, about us. I love you, without a doubt, I just think that these last two months have perhaps left bigger scars than I realized. 

I talked to an old friend tonight. There’s just something warm and fuzzy about connecting with some one that has known you since before forever. It makes you really look at your life; where you’ve been, where you’re going. And it made me scared. I’m scared I’m never going to be happy, scared that I’m always going to have to be the strong one. Maybe I’m just broken now.

When do I get to be weak? When do I get to lose it a little, go a little crazy? I feel on the edge tonight, I feel like maybe it’s my turn to make a mistake, or be reckless. 

J

Image

Photo Credit

I am a broken person.

 
I feel like I gave everything I had, and I supported you the best way I knew how, and I got nothing back. I have nothing left, nothing left to give, and nothing left for myself. Just nothing, nothing, nothing. 
 
I went for days and days before and after you were in rehab feeling neglected, unloved and unwanted. And still, I tried to be there for you, I tried to support the person that I loved more than anything in the world. The person that I thought was my future. I pushed past the hurt, to give you what I thought you needed, to manage your care, your life, when you couldn’t. I did the things that I foolishly thought could make you “better”. I wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t eating- but I told everyone around me, “he’d do it for me”. And in return, when I thought things were finally getting better, when I thought we were at a beginning rather than an end, I was tricked, I was lied to. I was allotted 48 hours of hope, of optimism- just to find out it was all false, that you had been looking me in the eyes and lying to me. It makes me feel like everything was untrue, none of it was sincere and I wish I could erase that weekend from my memory, because it just makes the here and now hurt with a ferocity that is physical. I can FEEL this pain in a place deep inside. It’s twisting and eating up every scrap of sanity that I had left. 
 
I am an angry person.
 
The manipulation, the roller coaster of highs and lows has bubbled and fermented, emerging as a deep seated anger. Hatred at you for making me believe you loved me, and then taking every action to demonstrate the contrary. Hatred at myself, for putting up with it, for not being strong enough to walk away after you proved you couldn’t give me what I needed. I’m angry at every seemingly kind word you send my way now because it’s not fair- after everything you’ve done, everything that your addiction has put us through, you don’t deserve to send kindness my way. Where was the kindness and love when I needed it, when I begged for it? Why show that you are capable of it now, after everything is dead and buried in the ground? No, you don’t get to feel better by sending shallow niceties my way. Little nothings just designed to make you feel like more of a man. 
 
I am a vengeful person.
 
I am out for blood, and I can’t help it. I want to make you hurt, make you burn with the same pain that’s eating me alive. It isn’t fair that you were behind all of this, you caused the suffering, this neediness- you created this version of me that I despise. And now you get to walk away and be applauded for your decision to seek space, clarity, maybe sarcastically claim sobriety again. But every interaction with you makes me want to hurt you; I am not proud of this, this isn’t who I am or ever who I wanted to be. But this is the monster that you’ve created, and now you get to be my judge and jury too. Because I don’t respond to your “too little, too late” in the appropriate manner. Fuck you and your continued manipulation. Fuck you for trying to hurt me once again when I don’t pat you on the back for being kind for ONCE, for reaching out to me for ONCE. What a joke, I’ve spent weeks being “kind”, trying to make you “feel better”, and what did I ever get in return?
 
You are right, for the last two days, since I walked out of our home because your lies broke me, I don’t have anything nice to say. My remarks are full vitriol and venom. So forgive me for not showering you with praise, when way too late, you decide to throw a few scraps of kindness my way.