I don’t know myself anymore. I blame my illnesses, and yes… mostly they are to blame and I have the right to blame them. But part of me blames myself… and others.
I am not strong enough. I used to be the rock that kept everything together, the glue that bound it all up. I used to be strong… stronger anyway. I was very good at pretending to be stronger than I was. I was very good at pretending life was perfect.
Something very bad happened in my life, when I was about 24. It changed me, broke me in every way possible, chewed me up and spit me out in pieces. I can’t talk about that now. It’s just too much… but it’s important to note that this event occurred.
Perfect life turned completely upside down and inside out. I lost everything… even my very soul.
I was able to pull it together somewhat on the outside after a couple of years, but the person I was before the horrific event… that person is forever gone.
I’m screwed up in the head, you see. I’m worthless… I’m a piece of trash too insignificant for anyone to even bother picking up or even kicking aside. No matter how many times anyone tries to convince me otherwise, I still know it’s true. Because I’m the one who has to live with myself… it’s easy for someone who doesn’t even know you to try and make it okay with simple words.
I have abused myself in ways I can’t even describe. Pain… I deserve all the pain… I need the punishment for being such a piece of shit. Punishment from myself, punishment from others, punishment from my illnesses…
I let people emotionally abuse me. I deserve it. One person in particular really. The only one I’ve ever let get close enough to me for it to really hurt… to cause emotional stabbing and beating and slicing and scarring… not just a sting from someone who doesn’t matter.
This person really fucking matters and I’m not even sure why sometimes. I love him. Well, in the only way I know how to love… which obviously isn’t ever right or nearly enough… but still.
The only person who I can never completely push away… always within reaching distance… even though I know in my mind the emotional abuse is very bad for me… but still, I love him and he’s always there for me. Even when he’s not. I know that doesn’t make sense to anyone who happens to read it… I can’t find the right words to even begin to explain what that means or how it feels.
I am on an emotional roller coaster. He has the controls and I’m sitting in the seat… but I’m blindfolded, so I can’t see what’s coming next. Is it going to be calm and level?
Going uphill and getting better, more excitement and happiness, feeling high on the world, only to be dropped hundreds of feet and landing there alone at the end of the ride, disappointed that it’s over, that it ended suddenly, that it hurt so much when it jolted to a stop, but still getting excited because this roller coaster is never ending and my brain can’t wrap around the thought that it is going to end up being the exact same thing every time…
That’s what loving him and being with him is like. Yet I can’t get off the ride. Ever. He has the controls and never stops long enough for me to leave the amusement park. And even if I did leave it, I’d be back. Because that’s where I want and need to be. It’s the only place I feel safe and secure, even though it’s the most dangerous place for me to be.
It wasn’t like this in the beginning of Us. I had a good job and good benefits, so did he. We had so much fun together. He helped me as I began picking up the pieces of my shattered life.
Then I got sick. So sick. Two brain surgeries and multiple diagnoses later left me unable to work and in tremendous pain. Once again, just as life had started looking good… it ended almost as quickly as it began.
Depression overtook me. Apparently I became an abuser as much as I was an abusee. And I don’t think I even realized it at the time. I just remember feeling numb… nothing… he says I laid in bed for 2 years. I’m sure I wasn’t pleasant. It took a toll on him too… I do remember his abuse… just not mine.
I’m yet a different person now than I was before I got sick. So I don’t know who I am anymore… at all.
I am in too much pain… physically, mentally, emotionally. He and I live in separate states now… but we’re still together. When he visits, it’s good. When he’s gone it turns to shit and I’m left unable to even talk to him on the phone because he turns into the abuser again.