Fear Dance


I am jumpy and in fear today.

I know it is because of getting close, maybe.  I know it is because I am so afraid it is all lies again.  I need to see that receipt from Sunday, to see if he is telling any truth.  Why would he tell the truth the second time after lying so blatantly the first?  And then punishing me with turning off his phone to terrify me even more?

He bought a motorcycle.  He says how he needs to control his spending, then goes thousands more in debt than he already was.  In many ways, that is just another piece of his addiction, getting a thrill by buying something just like he would buy a person.  Yet, this is also something he has been wanting ever since we met.  And yet, he was wanting and wanting and wanting and lusting after things and obsessing over what other people had, his brother and his girlfriends, my horses, knighthood, money, recognition, ever since we met, so what is the difference?

I know it is a process, that the lying is the worst of all.  But he will lie, and make me catch him before ‘coming clean’, if he even is doing that.  I cannot know.  And as long as he lies, he is an addict, for he thinks and behaves and chooses addict actions rather than choosing honesty and trust.  And with every lie, I am all the more terrified that this is all there will ever be.  And my hope that I can ever trust him grows smaller and more painful every single time he cannot be honest, worse when he punishes me for calling him on a lie.

Addict.

And the world is filled with terrible statistics of men watching porn.  So, I stay with him because I don’t think there is anything better?  This is the best I get?  An obese, smoking, cheating, consuming, lying, disrespectful, attacking, hateful addict?  This is the best I can do?

He held me, and said how I was so fragile.  Isn’t that what he wanted?  Someone who would care deeply and hurt even more deeply?  A victim he could save, a replacement for his damaged mother whom he could never save?  I wasn’t damaged enough, so he didn’t feel needed and obsessed with me anymore?  What happens if I heal, truly heal, and he feels that way again?  Isn’t he ever able to get out of that cycle of childhood thinking and feeling?

I read online about a Christian sex addict who told his wife the truth.  The first time he had physical sex outside the marriage.  Then later realized that every time he had masturbated to porn, it was still having sex with another woman.  Lots of other women.  Every time he had allowed himself to lust after other women, he was damaging his marriage and himself. 

How I could wish that he truly cared enough to tell me the truth.  Maybe he could have lied to himself about the porn.  Maybe about the strippers.  But having sex with other women, and he justified never needing to tell me?  He cared so little about me, about the marriage, about anything that he didn’t see that he was doing exactly what had hurt him and made him feel so worthless? 

Maybe he felt he deserved it, being treated so badly, when it happened to him.  Maybe he doesn’t really love me, and is just biding his time and won’t let go until he has no other choice.  Maybe I don’t really love him anymore and that is what I am doing, selling the house to get one I can afford on my own for if, when, he gives up the fight.

I don’t know.

He still lies, and won’t tell me the truth on his own.  He still lives in secrecy and fear and lusting after something, consuming, spending, needing more and more to fill his emptiness.  He still lives the life of addiction, smoking, over eating, justifying, making excuses to himself, blaming.  He still chooses selfish and self centered living.  I don’t think he has any idea what living with another person is like.   Why should he?  His father was completely selfish, and controlling, and belittling, and cruel. 

He was a little kid!  Of course he couldn’t save his mother from his abusive father. 

Why did I believe he would be, could be, will be, any different?  Not every one stays the way their family made them.  But he did, all those years, and even now.

Sometimes, for a moment, I see that man I thought I had met.  He talks like him, and he seems to think like him.  Then some odd person takes hold of his eyes and his mouth and says something cruel, or petulant and childlike, or spiteful, or disrespectful and uncaring, or blatant lying.  That piece which is a man is so tenuous. 

Projection, that I am fragile.

He is more fragile still.  He tries to behave manly and forceful, but mostly it comes out overbearing and controlling.  I didn’t want someone who ‘led the household’ and ‘made the big decisions.’  I wanted a friend, someone to make decisions together, to talk out our fears and hopes and dreams together, to fall together and hold each other when we were afraid.

Instead, we are so alone.

I need some sense of normalcy, of control, that I am not just floundering around and dancing around his addictions, that his addictions will rule our life, my life, forever.  I need.  I need him to stop smoking, to lose weight, to feel that he has some control over himself so that the things he says he will control I have any confidence he actually can.

I need.

I needed him, only him.  As humans, go.  I had other needs, spiritual and personhood needs, but those were mine to take care of.  I would have been happy to share my family and my life, with him.  He has never been happy.  I cannot fill that hole, which will threaten to open up every time he hurts.  He will never turn to me when he hurts, and I am being conditioned against turning to him, because he hurts me back so terribly.

Bite the hand that feeds you.  Bite it crippled.  Bite it off.

The last two nights were OK.  Not good.  OK.  It will be years before anything is good again.  I can’t take more lies.  I can’t take more secrets.  I wish he would come clean on his own.  I wish he would OFFER truth.

He hurt.  Now I hurt.

Damaged apes.

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