A Change In The Weather (November 2011)

Pain.  Pain. 

Deep, bone aching pain. 

My internal weather changes, and my heart aches like any broken body.

Why?  Why did he do this?  Why did he have to choose me to do this to?  Why didn’t he give a damn?  Why does he continue to hurt me, to act out his addict role and ogle women and deny his actions so clearly right in front of me and gaze deeply into my eyes while withholding everything?

Why do I care?

I want to wring an answer from him.


Why do I think I will ever get an answer that makes sense?  Addicts don’t make sense.  They make excuses to keep running into the arms of their addiction over and over, rationalizations to allow themselves to continue inflicting pain on others.  The addiction is the only thing they really care about.  It has taken over their brains and their hearts and their souls. 

Do I want to ask him just to hurt him back?  If he looked truly hurt, would I think he really regretted?  Would I believe any look upon his face due to the ease with which he feigns sincerity?  Would I ask him just to try and understand because I DO NOT UNDERSTAND?  I do not understand how one human can so casually and with such intent abuse another.  I do not understand how one human can so easily use another.  I can understand that, if someone has crossed a line from which there is generally no turning back.  Redemption?  Recovery?  Being saved?  That is for stories, happy ending movies, more lies to make people give their trust in those who do not deserve it.

I am not his enemy.  I wanted to be his friend.  I wanted to share life with him.  I wasn’t worth waiting for.  I wasn’t worth his time or effort.

Do I really think he tells me the truth?  Do I really think someone who concocted lies for years in order to have sex whenever they wanted, whenever the urge called, will now stop all those behaviors just because they say they want to?  Addict speech.  Addict speak.  Addicts lie.  And he has myriad ways to hide his actions.  He can easily just be more careful about how he hides.

I am not trying to control him.  I only want to feel safe, for just a while.  To breathe without terror.  To wake without sobbing.

Life has been so busy.  Too busy.  There are things I must face.  His finances.  With mind boggling, terrifying scrutiny.  His promise of lie detector.  The calling each other.  Him testing to see what he can get away with between the calling.  Will she yell if I pull this little difference in my schedule?  Will she notice if I only say something later?  What if I am gone longer than I say I will be?  How much can I get away with?  Does he only care about the thrill of pushing his limits against me?  Does he only understand how to hurt women?

I am not his mother.  I don’t want to be his mother.  I am not his father.  I am not always critical, not even mostly critical, yet he still hears nearly everything I say as criticism.  I have a right to my own feelings.  I have a right to say what I see as keeping me from getting close to him.  Maybe I can say it better, but I have a right to speak my truth.  I think he filters every word and action of mine through his own projection of self hate.

I want someone who is responsible for their own behavior.  Who keeps their word.  Whose word means something to them.  Who is basically honest.  Who cares about themself and other people.   Someone who really wants a partner in life.

I think that person is me.  I think I am that kind of person.  I don’t want to make excuses for why I would accept less than a wonderful relationship with a caring, giving, honest person.  I will learn how to accept that kind of closeness in my life.  I will practice how to accept this pain and learn how to move away from it like any smart animal.  I will learn how to choose more wisely and accept nothing less than a truly good person and a deeply committed, loving relationship.

Tornados.  Hail.  Driving winds.  Floods of filth.

Fall is drawing to a close.  Some things feel just as they did last year.  Some things are different, some better, some much worse, some scarier for their blatant addict and other for their attempted closeness which I want even while I fear but I still cannot trust. 

It is time for a covering of pristine, sparkling winter snow.  Perhaps this is merely a blanket thrown over the rutted, tortured, detritis littered plain, a pretty covering to hide the rape of the land. 

But it will be a beautiful, peaceful, bone chilling change.

A time for nature’s slumber.

I ache.


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