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Defining My Fear




Today I am thankful that I am finally able to define my fear.

I fear getting stuck in another abusive relationship.  That's it.  I fear getting sucked into a relationship with a controlling guy who has anger issues that he wants to resolve by playing games with me. 

This is why I fear talking to Steve. 

He wants to call.  I fear hearing his voice.  I've spent two weeks getting over him, drinking lemon balm tea, rubbing my face with eggs to contain the negative energy, lighting little red candles asking him to find the woman meant for him.  All I want is for him to be happy. 

If I hear his voice before I can reason about this, all my hard work getting over him will be for naught.  I need to harden my heart first.  I need to know what the he's thinking, why he acts out in the manner he does, what he fears, whether or not he can listen to me without shushing me.  Only when I know where I stand with him and what he truly wants, then I can hear him without my emotional side taking over.

We are caught up in the cycle of violence. 

Does he know? 

I don't know. 

Every month (around the new moon), he'll take offense to something innocent I write or say and blow it out of proportion.  He'll start attacking me and claiming that I'm doing things that I am not doing.  He'll use "selective hearing" and claim that I've said things that I've never said.  There will be name calling.  It gets really ugly.  Most of what is hurting appears to be his interpretation of innocent things or him reading too much into things I say or do.

He'll take it to Facebook and triangulate the issue.  He'll tell people I said things I didn't say.  He'll garner their pity.  I'll feel like shit.   He'll say I called him a "bad boyfriend", or "ugly", or "mean", or whatever....it's not true.

  • A bad boyfriend lets you give him head at the summit of a fourteener.  If he were a bad boyfriend, I'd be smiling a lot more.
  • He looks like my dad.  Why would I call him ugly?
  • He writes some mean stuff.  It is born from pain.  He IS not mean.  His words are.
  • Yes, I'll admit that I call him obnoxious.  He is.  When I was in the midst of my activist work, I used to call myself O.B. Noxious.  I don't think it is a bad word.  To me, it is a descriptor for a fun person who doesn't give up. 


When he starts his pity party trolling, I usually wind  up blocking him so I don't have to see it. 

Then we break up because he claims I threw him in the trash.


A few days later, he's all poetry and love.  He'll claim that something in his external life  made him act out of character.  Once it was the stomach flu.  Another time it was Bitcoin.  This time, I think he's going to blame his ex-wife or Valentine's Day. 

There is always an excuse. 

This is a waste of my time. 

The man is stressing me out!!! 


*****
He doesn't know this but I buy myself a dress every time I get stressed out. Dresses make me feel pretty.  When I met him, I only owned ten dresses.  Now, my walk in closet is stuffed to the brim. Over the past two weeks, I bought FIVE dresses and two pair of pumps!!! 

Don't worry....They cost less than a dollar each.  Two of the dresses and a pair of the shoes needed repair (really easy to do) and the others were trades.   

Oh, and I was given a box of frilly dresses to sort through.  The person bought them and decided that they were not her style.  She likes more conservative things.  These were flowery, chiffon, lacey numbers.  I feel like a woman in them.  I feel spoiled! I feel a little guilty.

Maybe I'll let the woman go through my jewelry and take what she wants.  I hope she likes blue. 

My ex-husband would buy me the same 14K gold sapphire tennis bracelet for my birthday every year.  We were together 22 years.  How many of those darn things does a woman need?


I guess I could try to sell my jewelry to get some dough.  I never like doing that.  It feels better giving it to someone.  Sentimental objects are hard to sell.  I gave some of them to my daughters.  I think they're tired of them, too.


I used to like to leave jewelry on the beach as offerings to Aphrodite.  I assume that she directs retirees with metal detectors to them so they can earn spending money.  I haven't done that for a long time because I haven't been to a real beach since 1989! 


*****

I am incredibly stressed out.

Let it be known that if Siegfred's bedroom is filled to the brim with dresses, you've stressed the shit out of her.
She can't invite you over for a snuggle session if you can't make your way to the bed because her floor is filled with lacy outfits. 
I know in order to be together, we have to sort through the baggage.  This is sort time.  Who knows?
Maybe we can hook up?  Maybe we will clear ourselves out to find someone better for us.
So I don't know.
I truly do not know what to do. 
It is the cycle of abuse.  I hate calling it that but it is how victim advocates describe it.  The question is, does he even know he does it?
Is it my place to tell him?

It is rooted in not talking about issues as they crop up.  It is also rooted in insecurity.  It's also rooted in childhood beliefs about gender roles.
I love him -but- I don't know if it is a good thing to deal with considering I have my own bullshit to fix, too. 

I'm not sure if I should write about it.  The stalking shit is getting messy.  At least the stalker can't attack me in my sleep.....they wouldn't make it to my bed without tripping on clothing or getting impaled by heels!
I tried talking to my ex about the next step this morning.  He started to cry.  Now he's cleaning up his basement apartment.  I don't know what that means.  Is he staying?  Is he going?
I'm going....I'm going bonkers!
I'll ponder it more and update the post.  I need to get out of the house.  It's time for a Siegfred adventure.

Love ya,


S.

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