End of a Chapter
Well, I'm back. At least for one post.
If you've been a regular reader of this blog, you know that the infamous "D" and I have had quite the on and off "relationship" all the while being friends. We've had our spats, some more serious than others. But today, that all came to an end. And since HE decided to end our friendship, I can talk openly again.
First of all, it is my personal belief, upon observing his recent behavior and having done research, that he is in a full psychotic break. He quit his job with no notice and no contingency plan, although he is in the midst of a bankruptcy. He then spent 48 hours doing ... no one knows what. He can't remember. All he knows is that I've shown him my end of his electronic trail where he called me (and sounded incredibly inebriated although he claimed he wasn't), texted me (didn't remember that), and that he has a NASTY 8" long horizontal bruise on his back rib cage that he doesn't remember how he got.
You don't get shocking deep violet bruises and not remember when, where, or how you got them unless you are in a major dissociative state.
His emotions have been off the rails. I watched him yell and scream and drop f-bombs at his phone for a good 3+ minutes because Google was having issues with their passwords. Yes, f-bombs over a password. He calmed down pretty quick, but 20 minutes later was irate over something else. Nothing was good enough for him. His parents and how they raised him. His college education. His job. His marriages. His internet service. The gluten-free pasta he accidentally bought. The fact he has had to cut out his beloved sweet tea because he was drinking over a gallon a day and now looks like he's at least 6 months pregnant and none of his clothes fit.
He's talked about just letting himself hit rock bottom. Then he turns around and expresses his delusions of grandeur. He himself has admitted he is not stable.
But today he posted something on Facebook -- and before you laugh, let me tell you two years ago I dealt with grieving high school students who lost friends just days before graduation in a drive-by shooting over a Facebook post -- that was out of character, even for his less-than-mainstream beliefs. I called him out on it, as I would any of my 1100+ other Facebook friends. Long story and a few text messages later, I was told:
"It actually [sic] not funny that you personalize my anger. I'm just angry. Ripping of the bandage [sic... and WTF?] I'm going to defriend you on Facebook. I don't think I care that this will hurt your feelings. Forget about me and get on with your life. I'm done. Our friendship is not good for me."
Then I was blocked. Because that is DEFINITELY normal behavior.
Here is how my end of the friendship has not been good for him:
- keeping him company, even through hours of long, boring silence, while he was in a massive depressive state
- visiting him as often as possible, and calling, while he was recently hospitalized for his bipolar
- going grocery shopping for him when he just couldn't bring himself to leave the house
- preparing meals for him because he was practically incapable of taking care of himself
- staying calm through his very recent storms of anger, which arose out of nowhere
- overall being a good, if not too good, friend
- almost always deferring to doing what HE wanted to do (sure, sometimes I'd get to chose the restaurant...)
I've allowed myself to be used, abused, and walked over, but that doesn't make this knee-jerk reaction any less painful.
Speaking of abuse, ladies -- and gentlemen -- please, please know that you do not have to be in a "relationship" to be emotionally and psychologically abused.
For almost two years, my friendship with him has been a rollercoaster of HIS control. He frequently acted like he didn't want to be seen with me in public; it was a continuous game of "how far away from her can I stand before she gets upset?" Two years ago, a month after we'd restarted the physical part of our former relationship, he said to me, "I'm just glad I don't have to hold your hand in public." But then he'd always suggest going out to dinner, or running errands together. Or getting pedicures together, where the owners didn't believe us no matter how many times we swore we were neither married nor dating.
On occasion, I would be told my outfit was nice, or that I looked nice. Never was I told that I was pretty, beautiful, or even the term I despise: cute. I ended up banned from cooking the occasional meal in his kitchen because it "reminded [him] too much of being married". More than once he insulted me by saying I was acting just like his ex-wives. If he said something hurtful to me and I started silently crying, he could turn it into MY fault in a remarkably quick turnaround. One time, it took him 3 sentences. Literally. The third sentence was something along the lines of, "if you weren't blah blah" or, "if you hadn't blah blah", something like that.
Then he'd randomly text me: "Luv ya".
We both struggle with mental illness; my burden is Chronic Major Depressive Disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I have stood by him through his rough times, but when I start to struggle, he has told me, "I'm not going on your rollercoaster with you. When you're better, call me. Until then, I'm pulling away." Not too long ago I'd told him how much that hurt, that he would "pull away" when I needed his friendship the most. He said he understood and was sorry and would do better. Well, this week has been hell and where is he?
With his foot firmly on my ass pushing me as far into the shithole as possible.
For two years, I would do things like:
- text him just to say hi, or see how his day was going, or to ask a perfectly normal question. His replies were more often non-existent than anything. But if I didn't reply quickly enough to a text, he'd blow my phone up.
- ask what his plans for the weekend were. His answer: "I don't know yet." (This was usually Thursday or Friday that I would ask.) Me: "Maybe we can find some time to hang out." Him: "I don't know, I'll let you know. I might be busy." <next day> Him: "Hey, you want to hang out for a couple hours on Sunday afternoon? I know you've got church in the morning and I'm visiting my buddy that evening, but we could hang out for a couple hours at least."
- if we had set aside time more than a few hours in advance, I'd ask what he'd like to do. Me: "It's supposed to be nice this weekend. Want to go throw some discs?" Him: "Nah. I don't feel up to it." <two days later> Me: "So what did you and so-and-so do yesterday?" Him: "Oh, we went and threw some discs."
- invite him over for dinner only to have him decline or "forget" at the last minute. I finally told him I was going to stop inviting him because I was tired of being turned down. He said nothing to that.
He once told me that I was the last person he ever scheduled time with because, "oh, we always seem to find time somehow." He didn't care that it made me feel like shit. He didn't realize that we "always seemed to find time" because I would drag my ass over to his house at 9:30 at night after I'd worked a 14+ hour day. I finally was able to explain to him in a way he understood that by being the "lowest priority" on his social schedule, it said to me that I was the lowest priority in his life, that spending time with me was something he actually didn't care about.
Even during the times we were intimate, he controlled that. He would say he wanted it to be an equal, two-way street, but the fact of the matter is we were only intimate when HE wanted to be intimate. Any time I tried to get something going, I would be unceremoniously shot down. (And I already had deep-seated issues with that, so they are now only worse.) I certainly gave a lot more than I received.
Everything he complained about with his ex-wives, he did to me. Like him, if his accounts of his marriages can be completely believed, I've been gracious, giving, caring, and allowing more than what I should have of his shit. Now he's gotten to do the same to a woman, and I was the lucky recipient. I have reached out to my doctor to get recommendations for a good counselor. I'm strong, I'm smart, but I know there's been emotional damage that I'm going to need professional help to deal with so I can move forward.
And who knows... maybe in the next couple of months I'll go back out on Match or some other site and get this blog going again. 36 plus 4 and dating...
If you've been a regular reader of this blog, you know that the infamous "D" and I have had quite the on and off "relationship" all the while being friends. We've had our spats, some more serious than others. But today, that all came to an end. And since HE decided to end our friendship, I can talk openly again.
First of all, it is my personal belief, upon observing his recent behavior and having done research, that he is in a full psychotic break. He quit his job with no notice and no contingency plan, although he is in the midst of a bankruptcy. He then spent 48 hours doing ... no one knows what. He can't remember. All he knows is that I've shown him my end of his electronic trail where he called me (and sounded incredibly inebriated although he claimed he wasn't), texted me (didn't remember that), and that he has a NASTY 8" long horizontal bruise on his back rib cage that he doesn't remember how he got.
You don't get shocking deep violet bruises and not remember when, where, or how you got them unless you are in a major dissociative state.
His emotions have been off the rails. I watched him yell and scream and drop f-bombs at his phone for a good 3+ minutes because Google was having issues with their passwords. Yes, f-bombs over a password. He calmed down pretty quick, but 20 minutes later was irate over something else. Nothing was good enough for him. His parents and how they raised him. His college education. His job. His marriages. His internet service. The gluten-free pasta he accidentally bought. The fact he has had to cut out his beloved sweet tea because he was drinking over a gallon a day and now looks like he's at least 6 months pregnant and none of his clothes fit.
He's talked about just letting himself hit rock bottom. Then he turns around and expresses his delusions of grandeur. He himself has admitted he is not stable.
But today he posted something on Facebook -- and before you laugh, let me tell you two years ago I dealt with grieving high school students who lost friends just days before graduation in a drive-by shooting over a Facebook post -- that was out of character, even for his less-than-mainstream beliefs. I called him out on it, as I would any of my 1100+ other Facebook friends. Long story and a few text messages later, I was told:
"It actually [sic] not funny that you personalize my anger. I'm just angry. Ripping of the bandage [sic... and WTF?] I'm going to defriend you on Facebook. I don't think I care that this will hurt your feelings. Forget about me and get on with your life. I'm done. Our friendship is not good for me."
Then I was blocked. Because that is DEFINITELY normal behavior.
Here is how my end of the friendship has not been good for him:
- keeping him company, even through hours of long, boring silence, while he was in a massive depressive state
- visiting him as often as possible, and calling, while he was recently hospitalized for his bipolar
- going grocery shopping for him when he just couldn't bring himself to leave the house
- preparing meals for him because he was practically incapable of taking care of himself
- staying calm through his very recent storms of anger, which arose out of nowhere
- overall being a good, if not too good, friend
- almost always deferring to doing what HE wanted to do (sure, sometimes I'd get to chose the restaurant...)
I've allowed myself to be used, abused, and walked over, but that doesn't make this knee-jerk reaction any less painful.
Speaking of abuse, ladies -- and gentlemen -- please, please know that you do not have to be in a "relationship" to be emotionally and psychologically abused.
For almost two years, my friendship with him has been a rollercoaster of HIS control. He frequently acted like he didn't want to be seen with me in public; it was a continuous game of "how far away from her can I stand before she gets upset?" Two years ago, a month after we'd restarted the physical part of our former relationship, he said to me, "I'm just glad I don't have to hold your hand in public." But then he'd always suggest going out to dinner, or running errands together. Or getting pedicures together, where the owners didn't believe us no matter how many times we swore we were neither married nor dating.
On occasion, I would be told my outfit was nice, or that I looked nice. Never was I told that I was pretty, beautiful, or even the term I despise: cute. I ended up banned from cooking the occasional meal in his kitchen because it "reminded [him] too much of being married". More than once he insulted me by saying I was acting just like his ex-wives. If he said something hurtful to me and I started silently crying, he could turn it into MY fault in a remarkably quick turnaround. One time, it took him 3 sentences. Literally. The third sentence was something along the lines of, "if you weren't blah blah" or, "if you hadn't blah blah", something like that.
Then he'd randomly text me: "Luv ya".
We both struggle with mental illness; my burden is Chronic Major Depressive Disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I have stood by him through his rough times, but when I start to struggle, he has told me, "I'm not going on your rollercoaster with you. When you're better, call me. Until then, I'm pulling away." Not too long ago I'd told him how much that hurt, that he would "pull away" when I needed his friendship the most. He said he understood and was sorry and would do better. Well, this week has been hell and where is he?
With his foot firmly on my ass pushing me as far into the shithole as possible.
For two years, I would do things like:
- text him just to say hi, or see how his day was going, or to ask a perfectly normal question. His replies were more often non-existent than anything. But if I didn't reply quickly enough to a text, he'd blow my phone up.
- ask what his plans for the weekend were. His answer: "I don't know yet." (This was usually Thursday or Friday that I would ask.) Me: "Maybe we can find some time to hang out." Him: "I don't know, I'll let you know. I might be busy." <next day> Him: "Hey, you want to hang out for a couple hours on Sunday afternoon? I know you've got church in the morning and I'm visiting my buddy that evening, but we could hang out for a couple hours at least."
- if we had set aside time more than a few hours in advance, I'd ask what he'd like to do. Me: "It's supposed to be nice this weekend. Want to go throw some discs?" Him: "Nah. I don't feel up to it." <two days later> Me: "So what did you and so-and-so do yesterday?" Him: "Oh, we went and threw some discs."
- invite him over for dinner only to have him decline or "forget" at the last minute. I finally told him I was going to stop inviting him because I was tired of being turned down. He said nothing to that.
He once told me that I was the last person he ever scheduled time with because, "oh, we always seem to find time somehow." He didn't care that it made me feel like shit. He didn't realize that we "always seemed to find time" because I would drag my ass over to his house at 9:30 at night after I'd worked a 14+ hour day. I finally was able to explain to him in a way he understood that by being the "lowest priority" on his social schedule, it said to me that I was the lowest priority in his life, that spending time with me was something he actually didn't care about.
Even during the times we were intimate, he controlled that. He would say he wanted it to be an equal, two-way street, but the fact of the matter is we were only intimate when HE wanted to be intimate. Any time I tried to get something going, I would be unceremoniously shot down. (And I already had deep-seated issues with that, so they are now only worse.) I certainly gave a lot more than I received.
Everything he complained about with his ex-wives, he did to me. Like him, if his accounts of his marriages can be completely believed, I've been gracious, giving, caring, and allowing more than what I should have of his shit. Now he's gotten to do the same to a woman, and I was the lucky recipient. I have reached out to my doctor to get recommendations for a good counselor. I'm strong, I'm smart, but I know there's been emotional damage that I'm going to need professional help to deal with so I can move forward.
And who knows... maybe in the next couple of months I'll go back out on Match or some other site and get this blog going again. 36 plus 4 and dating...
Woman, you are beautiful and strong, amazingly talented, and I still think of you in your beautiful dresses and cute shoes playing piano for the OGC as a point of inspiration. It seems most of us go through at least ONE Psycho Boy/Girlfriend in our lives. Learn what you can from this, give yourself some love, and spend some time remembering the good things about yourself. He's made his mind up and you're not his mamma. Let him go.
ReplyDelete(If he's anything like my psycho boyfriend was, as soon as you move on, he'll be banging on your door wanting back in. Keep yourself safe.)
Thanks, love. Since he has a key to my apartment (for the cats, generally) I had my locks changed this morning. He's never been physical, but right now his disease is completely in control so better safe than sorry.
Delete