..my hands and feet are weaker than before.
*Trigger warning, mental illness, trauma, childhood sexual abuse, abandonment*
The sad reality is hitting at this point. Well all over again, with a brute forced impact unlike other times. The internal battle between self-deprecation and being totally over the top self righteous rages on. In these posts I’ve been taking anyone who wants to read, through my minds eye as I tackle the world with a busted up brain. Today I broke up with my “boyfriend” and it has sent me head first into a downward spiral. My gut aches, my eyes jump from tears streaming out of them to wanting to cry but nothing will come out.
Now I can hear a few of my regular readers laughing to themselves thinking “Geez, that just sounds like a typical Sunday for you”. Fuck you in advance haha but not completely an inaccurate picture of my general psyche.
So anyway, I gave this relationship thing a go…
I will try my best to be as elusive and disconnected as possible to preserve his privacy to a large extent. If you are looking to see a massive bitch fest, you won’t find it here. He is a remarkable man who has made his own way in the work in such an incredible way I fully believe he has made it so much better that even he himself may never even grasp. Idealistically he’s perfect. A dream guy for most any woman, or man for that matter. His kind heart, generosity and open mind made for a one of a kind soul who anyone would be blessed to come into contact with.
Absolute cracker of a guy! So what’s the major malfunction?
In all seriousness…
While he has his failings like most of you human types do. My mental illness certainly did prove to be a HUGE barrier. As someone with very active PTSD and hyper-vigilance I crave constant reassurance to soothe my fears and insecurity. It truly is insanity to put that on another human being isn’t it? Besides the obvious pressures that dealing with someone who has an extensive trauma history, there were socioeconomic experience differences that often led myself to feel like we were speaking completely different languages…A LOT.
While he’s no stranger to put in the hard yards and getting shit done. I am going to go out on a limb and say, he doesn’t seemed to have quite walked the same path as those like myself…
Which I feel saw us often get lost in miscommunication and misunderstand one another. I come from a place steeped in fear. Not a fear of what might happen. A fear of what I’ve seen happen. For me, having someone stand close to me is enough to trigger horrific flashbacks to a face I often stared out, questioning if that was going to be the day I was going to be killed.
In these moments I revert back to that terrified 7 year old, visions fly through my head of leaving my body and just counting over and over praying for someone to come save me.
No one ever did. I’d escape into my mind. Into fantasy world to avoid screaming out or trying to get away since the threat of death as retribution was very well drilled into my head. The unspeakable acts that were committed against me over those 3 odd years, have seen parts of my brain seize developing at 7 years old. Which I speculate is responsible for my child like need for constant comfort by those I get close to. I sleep with the T.V on every night to keep the nightmares at bay. Which works most of the time. Again, this caused issues as his more stable mind had been brought up to find comfort in the quiet darkness. Being intimate with anyone, especially in a sexual sense, scares the shit out of me. Every night I during the years I was being abused, my offender forced me to sleep in his arms. Snoring loudly, driving his chin into my skull. If I moved I was grabbed tighter and I would be punished. I often thought my bladder would explode. The pain was horrendous and sleep impossible.
There have been very few people I have resonated to over the years that I can handle putting their arms around me. Some I have disarmed the triggers and learned to trust. Others just have an essence about them that I can’t explain. These are the people I want to apologize to the most for how I am because if I can handle you touching me, I don’t ever want you to stop. Never stop patting, hugging and kissing me. It is like a rare delicacy for me, and I adore the safe feeling that comes with it. There are so few moments I feel safe.
Who is more appropriate to hug than your significant other. The person whom I believe is ultimately going to be your greatest ally and safe place? However I recognize that’s a lot of pressure for one person to take on. It is also very difficult to form that bond if your time together is limited by everyday responsibilities and obligations. Sometimes I just need a damn hug, a hand on my shoulder, a look into my eyes that recognizes that I’m not OK.
I can’t always have it, most of the time that’s fine but with the release of the film trailer at the staff conference and the next step being it going for sale. I have felt very alone and insecure. I’ve really needed someone there to keep my mind from wandering into the darkness. While family is a very just reason to be unavailable, in this specific case of what went wrong with the total dream of a man, his social responsibilities just didn’t tie in with what I’ve felt I needed. To be honest it hurt a lot and as I delve deeper into this tremendous quest, I wasn’t feeling I mattered at all. My impression was that I made him think I wanted him to give away the things he loved. Which is completely untrue.
So at this point, between distance, personality clashes, misunderstandings, life changes and wanting to turn to the person I could definitely see a forever with without avail, my bad wolf took over and consumed my hopes for it all. As he stood outside my door and I said the words:
“I’m a lot of work”….
and he replied without skipping a beat…
“I’m seeing that”..
I went under.
I just wanted 5 minutes. Some inclination he was willing to take up arms instead of telling me that he doesn’t think he can be what I need. Granted I ask for a lot of these 5 minute moments. Honestly I don’t blame him for wanting to move on quickly. I just couldn’t take it.
So there it is. The most promising thing to come my way, in some respects ever, gone, destroyed….
I feel the breakup is being put almost solely on my shoulders. Maybe that’s where it belongs. It is making me sick physically to be honest but that comes with grief. While the relationship was short lived and most of it was tumultuous, it felt very rich and full. Complete with car accident and illness, I walk away 10 times better off. Often with conditions like mine, small moments in the eyes of others are much longer and take in a lot more information and feeling than most can grasp.
I spend a lot of time wishing I wasn’t like this. I have 16 years of regular intensive therapy and 2 self admitted mental hospital stays, but it is still unlikely I’ll ever completely recover and assimilate into common society. I am broken by more than the childhood abuse. The abandonment, the DV experience I’ve had since before I was born, the incidents of attempted and successful rape…ya know, the low side of my experience stuff, will likely define how I am for life. I wish I wasn’t like this…
But I am and I still walk through fire daily just to survive. It’s a massive feat, especially with 4 solemn faces that look to me for guidance and protection. They also eat like they are riddled with parasites (they are not) and fight like warring viking clans, which is not time nor income friendly. I am who I am at this point. Last thing I want to do is punish someone else for that..
So I’m chalking it up to a beautiful experience and working toward accepting that the only person for me….
and I plan on rocking it!