My critical boundary.
I am not not not OK with someone lying, cheating, and completely treating me with the utmost disrespect thereof. Not even close. No way in hell.
He may be able to twist his logic so that it is just one more time: This my last time lying, I won’t do it anymore, after this last time, I’ll do better, next time. This is the last time I hide things, just this one last time, I need this last time cause I’m scared. This last time smoking, I won’t do it again, I will quit, really I will. This last time fucking a whore, I won’t do it again, just this once, no more.
I am not OK with that.
I choose not to live with someone who makes those choices. I choose not to live with someone who can look themself in the mirror and convince themselves it’s OK to do those things, to treat someone like that, and enjoy the rush of self pity that goes with having failed, again and again.
He stole enough of my years by getting away with his lies and his manipulations and his deception. He was able to have everything he wanted by committing fraud and having no integrity and indulging his addictions by way of his deep character flaws.
‘This is the last time’ is just another addict rationalization, another deception. If he keeps finding ways to tell himself ‘just this one last time, then I’ll stop,’ “I’m not really doing this, I’m really not, this isn’t what it looks like,’ I definitely do not want, do not need that in my life.
I am not happy. I am very unhappy.
I am having a hard time keeping my focus on practicing my best relationship skills. When I feel lied to, and active addiction running the show behind the scenes, and a constant level of toxicity and ookiness and something being completely wrong in the way he looks at me, in the things he apologizes for, in the things he avoids talking about, in the way he obfuscates and delays and tries to gain my sympathy. I am having difficulty.
In some ways he tries to be more attentive, more there, more present. But something critical is still missing. I am still waiting for something to feel real, to feel different, to feel more solid. I don’t know what I am expecting. Having never felt real love before, obviously, I don’t know what isn’t right. I only know something I am expecting to feel isn’t there. I didn’t have such expectations before. I only expected he would keep his word, that it meant something to him, that it was of critical importance to him. I only expected him to be himself and stand up for himself, like he said he did. All lies. All manipulations. All fake. Something is still so wrong, so off, so toxic. So empty.
I feel so empty.
Once upon a time I would have negative thoughts about him, and do my best to keep them positive. Because I loved him. Because I knew that there would be times I would be angry, or disapointed, or frustrated, and negative thoughts would seep in. But because I loved him, I didn’t want that to be how I thought about him, how I responded, so I had the thought, then used that thought to figure out how to not act that way. Just because I thought about it didn’t mean I had to act that way towards him. I wanted to be supportive, nurturing, kind. I know sometimes I failed, but I also know that I was trying, really trying. I feel like every positive word, every supportive act, was filtered through his lens of resentment and hate, and so, to him, I have always hated him, always been out to get him. He has never been connected with me at all. He has only been connected to his hate and his addictions. I don’t really exist because he has never had room for me in his internal life.
Maybe I used too many rose colored lenses. Maybe I was just too used to feeling alone to notice how alone I really was in this relationship. Maybe I didn’t stick by a boundary, that if I feel used and unloved, then that is not not not good enough, and I should move on.
There is no question about this boundary. Now that I do know how cruelly I have been treated, how he has been willing to abuse me behind my back, I will not accept that. I deserve much much much better than that. Someone who keeps telling themself ‘This is the last time I will accept abusing someone else, just this last time,’ is not a person I choose to be married to. I don’t want to be treated nicely as long as I accept to stay in that little space he gives for me in his heart. Little, tiny, empty box for me.
If I am going to feel alone, then I will learn how to be alone. I am feeling very alone.
He is so young. He is so fragile. Maybe he has reached a plateau before moving forward again. Maybe he is falling backwards and just using better hiding skills now. Maybe this is as far as he can come.
I use to be so strong. Now I am barely a person. I am an emotional zombie, just like him.
What a lovely gift to pass along.
How negative and cynical I am feeling.
I don’t know how to practice my relationship skills right now.
Hopefully, this too shall pass.
Hmmm. Why am I feeling so negative? Maybe because in my dreams I know how it feels to be loved, not lusted after, not blush of infatuation, not falling in love rush, but loved. Then I wake up. Maybe because I thought my sex drive had vanished, but I find it hasn’t, and the thought of having sex with anyone is terrifying. There isn’t anyone else anyway, and he now repulses me, physically the way he has chosen not to take care of his health, emotionally with his manipulations and head games, mentally with all the filth he filled his mind with and the hundreds of women he stuffed between us. Everything he was ever afraid I would feel, he managed to create that situation so that I do feel all those negative things towards him. I guess that is what he really wanted. Good way to manifest everything he is obsessing over about himself. Maybe I am feeling to bleak because I keep working on the relationship skills, and I just end up feeling even more pain. Trying to be close to him is hurts, hurts, and more hurts. I fear I will end up with any attempt at connecting with another human being tied to constant pain. Maybe because when I try to connect and feel vulnerable, I am even more aware that something critical is still missing.
Patience is a virtue. Patience is a virtue.
I am not waiting on him, per se.
I am waiting.