A debt that can never be repaid.
Pain than never, truly, ends.
Trust which never comes again.
Just like everybody else.
We are them. We are just like every other couple where the man decides the woman doesn’t really matter. Her needs, her choices, his commitments to her, they don’t really matter. She is just an object, a lower life form, a dog needing taught a lesson.
I am so stupid. I saw how his mother was treated by his father. But I saw too late. I was already in love with him by the time I saw how his parents treated each other. I chose to believe that he had tried to overcome that upbringing, that he had studied yoga and meditation and left home to escape, and really tried to become more. But the red flags were there, I just didn’t understand them. He was like my mother in his mental distortions and his self hate, and yes, like my step father in his stereotypes and rigid thinking. I didn’t see the forest for the trees.
My tremendous damage is all my fault.
I thought he was different. But he is just like them. Just like his father. Just like his family. Of course he would treat me with callous disregard. Of course he would be controlling, and addicted, and compulsive, and resentful, and dismissive of gifts, and never satisfied with what he had.
The flags were all there. So easy to see in retrospect. So difficult when I had hopes and dreams and love.
Lessons to be learned: always listen to your gut when it comes to red flags = trust instincts, listen to instincts, listen listen listen. always wait, wait, wait, years if necessary, and meet people they know and hear their stories and see their family before accepting anything = patience is a virtue. always keep in mind what I you really really really want, and respect yourself enough to accept nothing less = love yourself above all else.
Whatever. Too late now.
I wonder what spiritual lessons this means? Are those all just ego lessons? Forgive? Pain is love? Life will never not hurt? Just deal with it? Apes hate each other and that doesn’t change?
I don’t know.
I wonder why the universe is putting those messages out, people speaking for no apparent reason about the lesson they taught their wife, or being condescending about my confusion regarding simple purchases. Or a woman at a bike shop thinking we were cute together. Things not needing said, but people seem to say them anyway.
I wonder what that means.
I wonder if they only see my brokenness when I am with him. And the men, they attack. They think they can, are part of the ‘old boy club’, that he ‘get’s them, how they mistrust and despise women, their women, all women, underneath it all, that is how they honor how well he broke his woman down but good.
And he did. Maybe he is sorry for it. Maybe he wishes, now that he has seen what would become. Maybe not.
Saturday was good. Very very painful, but I have never felt him try so hard. I could really feel that person trying, not the boy, not the manboy, not sneering man. Sunday was scary. We were both so tired from all the trying on Saturday. I wanted that feeling back so much, but I know that those things are not permanent, that they cycle like everything else.
Do they really have to cycle? Can’t they ever stay that way?
Silly rabbit. Only change is constant. You don’t get to keep anything.
Kali burns it all, sooner or later.
Except the navy blue horror. I felt it trying to own me all my life. Creeping up between my shoulder blades. Now it does. I cannot shake it off anymore. I only shudder beneath its cold, scratchy, diseased disgust.
I wish I could burn that away. The scar would be huge. Maybe I should make a tatoo so that it shows what that horror feels like. That would be huge, too. Like a scar. A flag waving in the face to display all my pain and horror.
Flags burning in the winds of hell.