Today is a mixed feeling kind of day, it’s Kleo birthday. I’m not sure what the mixed feelings mean. There is a festive concoction of sadness, anger, loathing, hate & love.
This is all a process – I know. I’ve worked through enough to know sometimes there will be days like this, days that feel fractured and not part of the life I had thought it would look like. One doesn’t marry the man she loved foreseeing that he would find more comfort in drugs than the wife that only got in his way of using. I didn’t see it coming that he would turn out to be cruel, cold and void of what seems to be any range of human empathy and emotions.
Sociopath? Pathological Narcissist?
October. November. December & first week of February. One constant streak of bracing for the next shitty ‘holiday’ or ‘anniversary of something’ that should be spent anyway other than this dull numbing of crawling out of what was supposed to be my marriage.
It’s his birthday and it’s just another day now.
We no longer talk, I’ve blocked email and phone, I’m well past thinking today will be the day! Poof, it’s all better and he’s reached the infamous bottom and all the good I thought he was, all his loving gestures, fuck, all his “I love you” – oh ya and those pesky vows and obligation to be the best person you can be in a marriage, obligation to your spouse. That any of those, which I know after the fact were bullshit manipulation and lies of an addict/emotional abuser.
That shit isn’t going to click and there is never going to be a positive domino reaction of good.
There will be days that should matter and they won’t again, hence it’s all a process. Honor feelings, you have to feel them with an unrelenting vulnerability and honesty to oneself. You absolutely have to, and if I have to write for whom evers eyes may fall on this writing so I don’t battle them alone on the inside.
Before he was this, I loved him like nothing I’d experienced before. Maybe that’s a perk of marrying someone you grew up with. For the most part, there isn’t anyone left alive in my little corner of life that has known me – or who gets me like he does. Maybe part of why it’s so hard to have let it all go was in part that. Who knows.
Reality is, these are remnants of what was nothing to him. Addicts don’t love anyone about their addiction, though I do think there are an awful lots of red flag narcissistic traits that befall him.
Feel it, move past it and go on with my day and my life. I’m not suffocating with anxiety, that has dissipated *so* much. That feeling of anxiety is no lubrication kind of tough.
When I get all forlorn… I will also honor the other feelings, the ones I have a majority of my days. I can remind myself this is a “man” who knew his ‘wife’ was laid off, money stalled coming in and was white trash style living it up, heating my house with a stove and space heaters because I literally didn’t have the money to fix the furnace. Food or heat? He didn’t give a shit, when it was my birthday he was planning a princess chasing 6k vacation with a fellow psych ward ‘friend’. She “needed” him – his words. Oh ya, he lives in VA housing and getting HUD housing vouchers for being ‘poor’. Poor in his world is a paid off car, lots of tech stuff and buying whatever – whenever he wants because he forgot he had a wife.
Shit happens. Like smoking spice.
This is the same “man” who is exerting power and control by fucking me and ultimately my children over by his bullshit tax return game. Please, do that at Christmas time when I was laid off, that’s super awesome. Kids think it’s the best ever to come down Xmas morning to nothing! Just ask them!
Shits temporary. We do what we gotta do to have stuff under the tree…I have some extra time on my hands now 😉 and pretty good kids – I figured something out and yes, they will wake up to presents.
I got myself a few things too… the first was a copy of the police and arrest report of Oct 19th, including the pictures. I only need to read that to get my perspective back in line with my reality.
I got that because my other gift to myself was finally making an appointment with an attorney to pursue civil actions and tort lawsuit against the person who did this, and has shown zero remorse for not only the bruises but the emotional pain of it all.
It’s a bigger step than it may look like on the surface. Victims of emotional and domestic abuse have crippling struggles.
It wasn’t until I told him I was having some potentially life altering medical stuff going on. When I told him I was scared of having a biopsy of my uterus. When I made the foolish error of emailing him what was going on with me and my fears.
Maybe in some subconscious way that the word cancer and wife (yes, that’s a black & white fear based jump) would mean something, anything. That he’d pull his head out of his ass and the gods of magical actively living in recovery would shot glitter out their asses.
Or on a practical and conscious level, he’d show his true character again and respond exactly as he did. So that when he did as expected, I could pursue a civil lawsuit without the back ass way victims carry guilt and an incongruent mindset of not wanting to hurt the person who hurt us.
That’s what people like him want. They don’t want us to have a voice or any control or power, if we do, they loss the strings they have to keep hurting us.
This is why I write, it is my outlet, my story – my means of processing. I will not spend my day sad it’s his birthday.
I will continue to gather up the documentation for my Jan 2 appointment with the attorney.