oops, i did it again

I could blather for a million posts about how amazingly good it was to get away and the awesome time that we had, but the truth of it is that it is now overshadowed by me feeling like yet again, I have gone out on a limb without realising that I’m out there by myself. I have photos, but I’m fairly certain that if I post them I’ll fly into an uncontrollable rage, and I’m trying very hard to keep everything together right now.

He assured me while we were there that it was amazing and he felt very spoiled and lucky, and he genuinely seemed to be having a good time – but now that we’re home in the real world, perhaps it’s become too much. Perhaps it lead to an near all-night conversation in which everyone involved cried. Perhaps I’ve been eating chocolate ever since and probably weigh 7 extra kilos on top of the 20 that I’m supposed to be losing. He said if he’d known about the “surprise” beforehand, he would have said not to bother. That it was too much, that he wasn’t ready for something like that. Jesus. How can I have misinterpreted a situation so badly? The worst part is that I let something like this greatly define my self worth. Please don’t get me wrong, I don’t do generous things just because I want to get them back. I honestly get joy out of seeing people’s faces when I bestow either a gift or something I’ve made or a surprise I’ve organised upon them. That’s enough for me in itself. But when it gets to the point that you start to feel like maybe that crazy stalker sending her underpants to Michael Jackson and you’re not only not getting any reciprocation but inducing this kind of facial expression that can only be likened to the following emoticon :S, then you probably have a slight situation on your hands.

And the real kicker is that I don’t really see anything wrong with the way I am affectionate. I don’t feel like I should have to or need to change. I’m not going completely insane and overboard with the jewellery or putting myself into financial debt. I don’t go out on missions to find gifts, if I see things, I sometimes buy them. Fuck, when did being generous start to make me feel bad? Maybe when I had the sudden realisation that yes, I may finally have slipped into insanity, because I’m having a relationship with myself. In my head. I have constructed something that is simply not there with a participant that is obviously unwilling. Maybe I’m putting an overly dramatic spin on it. There is love from his end, but it’s not the kind I require. It’s like the love you have for a sad old faithful dog or your sister – it’s not the kind of love that makes you want to stay with someone, or that makes you think about them when they’re not there. I don’t see myself as demanding or bossy, but realistically I am still a person, and after a certain amount of time there’s some things that become less like “wants” and more like “needs”, if nothing but for the sake of my own self-worth. I don’t like having to depend on someone else for that, it’s fickle and inconvenient, but there it is.

Sometimes I wish I’d stayed a virgin until I found some nice, boring loser to marry. Sex and love and everything around it confuses and ruins everything. I wish I didn’t know any of these feelings. I wish I was naive and lonely instead of whatever it is that I am now, because sometimes my heart hurts so badly that I honestly can’t imagine ever feeling happy again. If you’re in a shitty relationship or a shitty situation that isn’t working for you, why is it so impossible to pull the plug? All I want is to be content and not feel bad. I’m not getting what I need here, so why am I clinging to it? Love is ridiculous. It should be a basic self defense mechanism that you don’t love what is bad for you.

I sound awful. He isn’t a bad person, but it’s getting clearer and clearer as events transpire and time goes on that he has issues with me that may never go away. I had 2 babies without his permission and took away some of his life choices. He isn’t over that and I’m not sure how to get past that. He’s ashamed to tell his family about me because he thinks they’ll be disappointed. That’s not my perception, that’s a direct quote. He’s also disappointed, because he thinks he’s doing a bad thing by being with me.

I guess I must have missed the period where it became obvious that I was such a bad person that people’s parents would actually be angry at their children if they dated me. It doesn’t make me feel like a good or decent person to hear these responses to me. I feel like maybe all this work I’ve done in therapy to change myself was for nothing, because my good deeds go unnoticed, unreported, and there is still the idea that I am a bad, horrible seed that is no good. I am a dirty little secret and I that’s how I feel. Dirty and repellent.

I probably sound like a victim and I’m not surprised if you want to kick me in the balls while reading this. Yes, I did this to myself, and yes, I have the power to end it. I can only liken my feelings to that of discovering a rare, endangered creature that will disappear forever if I leave it behind – I am completely torn between finding something balanced and healthy and good for me, and staying with this creature that produces feelings in me that I can not describe, lest I burst into tears. I don’t have words for what I feel for this individual. I have integrated him so deeply into my life and my soul that I literally feel lost without knowing that he’s part of it. The times I have tried to move on have rendered me useless for weeks and months unending. I don’t want to become a pathetic zombie and show my girls that this is how you deal with situations, because I’m ashamed of myself when I act that way. I want things to be better but I’m not ready to give up. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to give up. It would take a lot to get me to decide that this was completely toxic, because there’s so much that just fits completely like a laser-cut puzzle. We have so many sames and we finish each others sentences and we’re on the same wave length. We’ve grown from teenagers into adults together. We’ve raised two little girls. And like my children, I love him unconditionally, even when he’s driving me to the point of insanity. I cannot turn it off. He is in my head and my heart, and he is part of my family – not the family I was born into, but the family I have made for myself. The kind that holds more weight, because this – unlike your bloodline – is something you have chosen for yourself.

I probably need to stop typing this. Don’t be surprised if I delete this post in a few hours, days, weeks. It depresses me to think that I keep letting this happen to myself over and over in the hopes that it will change – for my sake, for his sake, especially for the girls’ sake. I don’t want to give up hope but I want to stop hurting myself. I want to be able to be resilient and patient. I am neither of these things, and perhaps more than anything, even more than acquiring his love, these are the things I really need.