Mostly Shame

Not a great day. A lot of realizations. Too much negativity. Some despair.

I woke up today with one of those areas sort of between your neck and shoulder blade that hurt really bad. I knew it would only get worse since I’ve had them before. I took some Aleeve and put a hot pack on it.

I went to swim to see if I could loosen it. Swimming didn’t hurt it, but didn’t seem to help it much, either. I’m home now with heat on it again. But while I swam, on my first lap of the breast stroke, I pulled a muscle almost near my groin and it was very annoying. So I felt a bit like I was falling apart. But I quit swimming after about 40 minutes because I began to cry into my goggles and when you’re crying, you don’t swim well.

I started thinking about how pathetic I am and I felt so worthless and unlovable. I came home and took an anti-anxiety pill. I have about five left. I called in for another 15.

I thought volunteering would change my life. I thought having my website would change my life. Nothing changes my life.

I don’t have a single friend. Not one human on earth I can turn to and get out of the house with.

I am so ashamed of everything. Of having no friends. Of being broke and broken at 56. But mostly I am ashamed that I somehow feel I could still love a man who treated me so vilely.

I’m not talking about just since the breakup. No. I’m talking seven years of really bad behavior on both our parts, but he took fighting to a level I didn’t know anyone could. He called me names you would not call your worst enemy. He called my family names at times. He hit below the belt often.

Like a PTSD victim I can easily close my eyes and be back there in a heartbeat. Him screaming at me and hurting me to my core. Breaking me. Blaming me for all of our troubles.

He’s a fascinating person with a lot of charisma. He also can be extremely inspiring. But he’s the most opinionated person you’ll ever meet. Usually people either love or hate him. No in-between.

Of course I am convinced that it was my behavior that made him that angry which is textbook abused-victim behavior.

There is so much I didn’t like about him, but in my current condition I can’t seem to remember them. I only remember that I may be alone for the rest of my life. And not only alone, but desperately poor. And that I may never be intimate with a man again.

But I can’t remember how he stayed awake all night and slept all day. And when he was awake he was on the phone with his family who were far away. I was always in the background. And when the calls stopped, I’d serve him dinner. And when dinner was over, he’d leave and not be home until one or two a.m.

Night after night after night.

And because he was unable to work for anyone, we used up every penny I had until I didn’t have a penny left. Not only that, but profoundly in debt. All the debt was in my name. He was too new to the country to get credit.

But I picture his face and his mouth moving fast and I hear the voice getting high pitched and can’t even figure out what he’s saying, but he’s saying it. All the cruel, obscene, hateful, hurtful insults you can imagine.

And a few times there was physical violence. And one time in particular when I knew he could kill me and might kill me. That last year in England was a complete nightmare. I was putting in my time until I could come back home. I wanted to leave without him but he wouldn’t let me. I thought, fine, I’ll bring him home and then I’ll leave him. And I pretty much did that, but then he begged me, literally on his knees to come back to him, and I did.

Six months later he dropped me like a hot potato.

He’s kept me from my possessions. He’s fucked other women. He’s played with my head. He wants to be thought of as a good person, but in truth he’s a jerk.

So why do I feel that I love him? I couldn’t possibly love him. So what is wrong with me?

Together we redesigned the logo for my website. He put it up and the circle wasn’t circular, it was oval. I told him right away that it needed to be round, or gone, but not oval. And for two days I looked at that thing and it bothered me so much. And every six hours I emailed him asking about fixing it. He kept saying he would do it. And finally I sent him an email today, in bold red font, that he just needs to take the oval off and I’ll be satisfied with the logo without it.

An hour later I looked at the site and the oval is gone, but now the font is stretched too tall. I texted him and said please can you make it normal height. I feared he’d leave the stretched version up there for two days like he did the oval. He wrote back that I “am ill” and other choice words.

He’s right. I am ill. I realize he’s doing me this favor.

When I got out of swimming he texted that he was still working on it. I just wrote back and said, “Never mind. It’s fine the way it is. Please send me the logo when you can.” And I will try, with all my might, not to bother him with my website any more. Dealing with him is making my life harder. I don’t need that.

I need a few days of absolutely no contact whatsoever. I need to try to get in to see my counselor. I need to read my ACT book and the handouts my counselor gave me. Maybe it’s pathetic of me to fight this and try to be proactive and feel that there’s hope for me to have a life with a good man, but the only alternative is suicide. Death sounds pretty appealing to me today, I’ll be honest. But I’m doing everything I can to hope that tomorrow will be better.

I am now appropriately high from my ativan. So I will go do the chores I promised mom I’d do for company later this week.

I am so tired of feeling sad and desperate.

I am pretty sure I’m a good person with a lot of love to give, but I’m not certain.

I thank everyone who reads this “blog.” It is rather pathetic. And not all all inspiring as I had intended it to be. I am just hanging on.