He gave me a gift last night.
A wood box with carved flowers and an ohm symbol, with a dragon-fly necklace inside.
I like boxes. Dragon flies are nice enough. But the chain came broken, and the dragon-fly is mostly plastic and glass.
But the ohm symbol is for Buddhism, and I am not a Buddhist. He thinks he is. And the dragon flies were a symbol for him, not me, and as with all his gifts, it is cheap and broken. He would pay 100 dollars a night for lap dances, and 400 for an hour’s worth of worthless sex. And all his gifts to me were 20 or less, cheap and thoughtless. And usually given in a rash of shame and guilt. But he enjoys his shame and his guilt. He enjoys hating himself and hating everyone else. He bought me a cheap computer once, after he had been seeing strippers for months and the guilt made him so happy that he wanted to keep me around, so I wouldn’t suspect a thing, as if he really cared.
He is an emotionally incested self hating hero, retarded at 2 years old psychological level, a narcissist screaming for his mommy so he can kill her for running roughshod over his personhood and never protecting from his verbally abusive father. If his mother had been any more damaging, he would gladly have become a rapist. If she had been any more abusive rather than passive and broken, he would have been a serial killer. The line is so fine.
And my mother and father and brother trained me to accept that kind of hate as love, to seek that kind of companionship as feeling right, to wish that someone would make me feel loved but I only knew the touch of contempt. I was told I was loved, but treated like I was unwanted and merely a burden. I was told I was smart, but spoken to with derision and all complements contained a back handed slap. I was embarrassed in public and told how damaged I was in private.
I thought I had come so far. Now, I feel like I care about him no more, maybe less, than he cared about me for all those years. I hide my true feelings behind bland words and silence. I collect my data about his minor and major transgressions with my best Scorpio secrecy. I am learning how to cover my tracks and keep my thoughts still and completely to myself. But in my heart I am a Leo, with a Cancer’s need of home, and family, and sense of love. I hate the poisoned, shifty eyed, ill wishing person I am becoming.
The cards, this time the Deviant Moon deck, said I had changed my perspective (Hanged Man Reversed) and that my time of hesitation and introspection and questioning thoughts are readied into purposeful, unwavering action (Knight of Swords). My self made world of straw house has crumbled, my faith in people and the world and myself destroyed, like Humpy Dumpty who cannot ever be put together again (Tower reversed); Alone, with the starry sky my true riches, I find that although I have identified the roots of my passion, I am yet on a shaky foundation and could falter and fall (9 of pentacles reversed).
I must not falter. I must be brave and steadfast and resolute. I must keep my thoughts steely, and my eyes forward and face any fears that threaten my focus, my footing, my inner riches. I feel like this, and it lasts an hour or more, maybe a day. Some day soon I must be able to hold on to these strengths with0ut them evaporating beneath my salt stained tears.
He only buys me gifts out of guilt. He didn’t call that he had changed his plans and was going shopping after the sweat. Once again, he does not bother with nor comprehend the spirit of follow through, of a promise, or keeping his word.
I wonder what he did this time that required he purchase me a guilt gift?