Today I am thankful for HIS therapist.
I've been having relationship problems for twelve (almost thirteen years).
I just found a blog post which went up when we stopped being intimate. He went to his Uncle's funeral, spent the day with his family and came home and called me his ex. I nearly cried when I saw the date. It was six years ago!!!
I've been telling everyone that it's only been four. It's been SIX!
Darn...
I threw myself into work.
He asked me to stay here to help with the kids while he undertook a massive job search. He promised we could divorce when he found a job. He was hired in February. As I began to pack, I found that my credit cards had been run up, he lied when he said he was making the minimum payments. He told me he threw all our money in the 401K, and said that he did it so I had nothing to leave with.
He said he did that to force me to stay.
On Sunday, he told me he lied and said he was looting the 401K because we were broke.
I want to work. Whenever I work, one of two things always happens. He yells at me in front of my boss -or- one of his kooky relatives stalks me at work and spreads malicious gossip with the receptionist.
So....I stayed and said I'd leave the day he filed bankruptcy.
He filed on Monday (or so I think). Details around here seem to be sketchy.
A couple of days ago, he told me that I made him gain 250 pounds (he is in the 500 range). He also said that our celibacy is my fault. He refuses to tell me how.
Like I make him grab me and make a mess on my leg.
Yes, this is the extent of our intimacies. Sometime last spring, I wore a dress. He came home and grabbed me, took me upstairs, made a mess on my thigh and ran back downstairs to eat Pringles.
Some men smoke cigarettes, others inhale potato chips. Most women get kissed.
I guess I should be happy that he didn't try for my face....but still....I had no clue what to say except that I DO NOT want to ruin anymore of my dresses.
I want out.
I've been crying myself to sleep a little too much. I am trying to arrange to leave for my own mental health.
I've turned three men down for dates.
I can't do this to myself anymore. I'm starving and God is thrusting a lot of hot beef my way. I can't touch any of them. I mean, when I cut people off in traffic I'll beat myself up about it for a week.
I couldn't possibly have an affair. It would make me go gray.
I need to flippin' leave.
Now, that someone else made a pass at me, and I called him handsome, the man in the basement has decided that he is going to get help.
He found a therapist.
He met with him last week.
Today was his second appointment. The phones, somehow, miraculously work. There is gas money for the car. He still rages at me but at least I can call for help.
Thank you, Mr. Shrink.
He's only met him twice and, he claims, his therapist wants to meet with me because his therapist is a former inmate shrink. Then he called me paranoid (which really is easy to be when someone is running around spreading malicious gossip about you, claiming you are murdering kids and leaving pro-life propaganda on your doorstep). I'm watching over my shoulder for the next shoe to drop. I can't go a week without some sort of drama from this person or his family. That is probably the definition of paranoia but just because I'm paranoid doesn't make me wrong.
Look....if this therapist is truly licensed, if he truly paid attention in abnormal behavior class, he would know that meeting with me will only escalate things here. It would be akin to giving his client a theater to act out against me.
His boss at the city illegally fined us and slandered me. We sued because other people were approaching me with the slander and he couldn't get work due to his referance from the city. It was bad. The city attorneys would call here incessently. Cop cars would sit outside the house (although someone said it was because they were concerned about me). The house was raided at 2:00 am the day I filed a complaint with the Supreme Court over the Assistant City Attorney's behavior. I had an eight hour deposition. His lawyer layed into me during the breaks. Look.....I had two sets of attorneys trying to get me to lie. It wasn't going to happen.
Is it any wonder I'm a government activist? Really...how much of the people's money did the city waste harassing and annoying me? I still can't sort out what they did and what he did. This was all so convulted. The day I realized that I had two sets of annoyances to deal with was the day of the deposition. The lawyers the city hired would try to put words in my mouth then send me on a break before he and his lawyer tried to do the same thing.
I am not happy.....
This person is a wolf in sheep's clothing. He'll fool people. I'm an Irish witch. You see that when you look at me. What you see is exactly what you get. I won't lie and I won't play games.
This guy is abusive. He'll admit to the little abuses but not the big ones. He'll lie through his teeth.
He'll triangulate. He'll twist events. He'll blame everyone but himself. He claims to be seeing you because of childhood trauma. When I tell him I have needs (like pain relief in the hospital), he calls me his mother and screams at me. If confront him over something he's done, like steal $13,000 out of the 401K and lie to me about it, he'll start punching things and tell me it's because my name is Shannon. Shannon is his sister.
I got tired of the game when he claimed he blacks out during these episodes. He doesn't black out; this is his excuse not to talk about his behavior. When I said it could be Dissassociative Identity Disorder, he told me he was faking. This is why he is seeing a shrink. He has no idea what could happen if he plays that game in a squad car; he could be going to a new home in a huggie jacket.
The therapist's job is to kindly explain that to him.
Got it?
My seeing his therapist this early in the game makes his childhood excuse OUR problem. Work on him. I have my pick of people to see for the PTSD, once the danger has passed. The only reason I would expect any decent therapist to contact me is to tell me that I am in danger or that he is a danger to himself. Anything less than that and some therapist is going to be slapped with a DORA complaint. This man is a liar. He's is messing with me and claims his family is doing it. I'm tired of it.
Yes, he's threatening suicide. That's why I'm still here after more than four sexless years. That is why he's in therapy. Yes, I fear for my life. On the lethality scale, we rank 175 out of 200 and I was generous to him while taking the test. He says the only thing he lives for his to be with me (scary). He really only has a new job as a stabilizing effect (and its a poor one at that). I don't own a gun because I fear HIM. I can't sleep at night because I fear HIM. If his family hurts me, it will be at his urging. I am sure of it.
Everyone that runs around verbally attacking me, fining me, gossiping about me knows him. He triangulates with his mother, his co-workers, and his former boss at the city. Then he denies it. I'm tired of fighting to fix his messes. I need to find a way out and he's busy hiding assets to keep me here.
Oh, and this is a big clue. All those things he claims my exes are doing...he is doing. Pay attention....
So, if it is true that his shrink wants to see me. The healthy answer is NO, not right now.
Nope. I'm not gonna do it. I'll get my own.
If that man hasn't figured out that this guy a massive manipulator yet, he soon will. I know better than to fall for that trap again. Ask me on the tenth appointment (if he makes it that far).
It's his shrink...not mine.
Sigh....
But at least the man in the basement is trying to listen. For the first time in six years, we talked without any yelling, fighting, or telling me to F*ck off.
The topic?
Well, I don't know how to refer to the man in the basement.
We are still legally married due to my inability to pay the lawyer $3,000 cash.
He called me his ex six years ago.
We were estranged for quite a while.
When he found his job and I had no access to money, I started doing his laundry so he wouldn't get fired for being stinky. I figured it was the least I could do since I wasn't working and his holding a job will make it easier for me to leave.
I guess washing one's undies makes you in some type of relationship.
I don't know.
Still, I don't know how to describe our relationship. Is he my ex? Is he my estranged spouse? Is he the guy in the basement? Or should I just call him by his first name?
He's not a partner to me at all.
He wants me to call him husband. I just can't do that. For over four years, he has been telling me that we are getting a divorce. I can't just turn on a hubby switch, hold his hand and tell him it's okay.
He actually listened.
He didn't yell.
He didn't hit anything.
He promised to do something to keep me safe from his family. Tomorrow he is going to install a couple of motion activated cameras on the front porch so we can figure out who is leaving pro-life religious material on the doorstep in the wee hours of the morning. He reminded me that his cousin used to put crazy things on my doorstep in the middle of the night when I was single (copies of my apartment keys so any ol' idiot could come on in, threatening notes, and gifts I gave her when we were friends back in high school). I forgot about that.
Wow....
Then he hugged me when he noticed that I was crying.
Who is this guy? What happened to....
uh...
my ex...
you know, what's his name?
He understands that I need to see a lawyer. He still doesn't want a divorce but he spared me the "you're mine and no one else can have you" rant.
I'm impressed.
Maybe this will all be over soon.
I will not meet with his therapist but whatever he's paying him seems to be well worth the money.
Thank you.
I'll find my own therapist before I even consider kissing another guy again. This one drove me a little bit insane and I don't want to share the dysfunction.
Love ya,
S.