I had thought of how I might end this blog, five relationships after Emma.
It has worn me down. The TBI took a lot out of me, and the last few years with Janice have stripped every shred of dignity from me. Right now she expects me to thank her for thinking of me by having cybersex behind my back. Or maybe not, she was telling one guy how she was getting out of a bad relationship while she was sitting next to me, allegedly spending time with me. So maybe she did it by my side.
I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Every word out of my mouth is met with a challenge, if I manage to get more than one out she completes the sentence the way she wants and argues with it. I just watch and she has an argument with “me.”
I had to tell my therapist that I don’t know what she thinks, I don’t trust her. I can’t. I want to, I would love to, I give her every opportunity, practically writing a script for her, and she finds a way to argue with me. I have no idea when she was telling the truth, and when she was lying. Some analyst, everything is F6.
I would love the opportunity to be decent with her and her family. I want to help them. But I am afraid that they will choose to stay with Janice. I can’t imagine why, Gloria pays zero rent and Dustin, although a large portion of his income, pays very little.
Even if they stay I’ll lose the place without more income. We all know this. Janice has told me that if she goes they’re going with her, so she can’t leave because no one will take all of them and their cats. But she can crank up the furnaces and keep hell miserable for everyone. She has told me that I am threatening all of them. Oddly they say different, but it’s fair to expect them to lie if they really are scared. None of it matters because Janice decided to take a flamethrower to our relationship. There is no coming back. Well, I probably would try if she came back to the bedroom, but she’s more stubborn than any living thing I have known. She has to come out “on top,” but denies everything is a competition to her.
She’s very upset about what I have written about her. I have two responses.
1) If she wanted me to write nice things she should have been nicer to me.
2) I can’t write about things she hasn’t done.
Well, I could but that would be stupid. Why make stuff up? Why, may I ask, is a problem required?
I don’t need to ask. It is what she wants. I can’t know which of any number of reasons she created helped her decide to destroy the relationship. I know (now) how deep the communication problem is, how there was never any chance.
I can say something that I think is important. I hold her hands and look in her eyes. She tenses and starts arguing. I finish what I wanted to say and then return to the statements she was arguing about which I had not said. She argues that she was listening to the full statement but can’t repeat it. What it was, doesn’t matter. An intimacy that I had wanted to share, that I thought might be meaningful, doesn’t matter. But since it reminded her of her first girlfriend, I needed to hear every detail of their sex life. When I try to herd the conversation back to Janice and Blake, she is offended that I didn’t want to hear about her sexploits right now.
What I had wanted to say is lost in the adrenaline of arguing. Maybe that’s what she’s chasing.
I don’t know what is wrong with her. She has lived her life in fear. She cannot relate to reality. Oh she can tell a carton of milk from a lamp, but other little triggers ravage her consciousness. I explain that I want her to look me in the eyes and she breaks down because her mother made her look her in the eyes. Ten minutes go by while we bring her into the present, and go forward no longer expecting symbols of trust.
She is fearful that I might reveal something which she holds secret, yet continues antagonizing me when I say I would tell if she didn’t stop antagonizing me. Rabid dogs have more sense.
That could be a part of why I feel insulted. She believes I am so stupid I will believe her excuses
Nothing changes. She watches, step by step, as her arguing wears me down. She gets sick and the world comes to a stop, I get sick and it’s time to turn up the arguments. I tell her she has hit the limit, and she keeps pushing.
I tell her I hate her. She has pushed even neutral feelings away. She isn’t finished yet. Hating her isn’t enough she has to keep pushing. What good could possibly come from that?
Do I throw her on the street? Do I slap her in the face? Because it appears she believes she can keep on stabbing me long after I’m dead. Nothing will stop her. She doesn’t care if the world falls down around her, she is going to argue.
It doesn’t matter to anyone. It’s just her narcississistic ego screaming for attention. She’s in pain so everyone close to her must experience pain. I can’t share that with her anymore. I wanted to share my love, but all she knows is levels of hate.
Emma died twelve years ago this weekend, I last saw Helena before she died five years ago, so many reminders of how precious life is, while Janice does her best to convince me that life sucks. It sucks with her in it. This is a good place to stop.
KBlakeCash 