Sometimes, I feel like being childish. I want to just suck myself back into being a brat. Is it easier to just feel like being an asshole? I hurt, so you should hurt, too? It's not really how adults should act. It's funny to know this and understand this, but still witness it. And occasionally give in. I was always stunned by the quietness. The part where you had every chance to scream at me. To tell me I was awful. But, you didn't. I know you could feel the in between. I would circle back and apologize. I grew up so much. It seems almost meaningless now. I felt like I was building something with you. I never really was, I suppose. I was building it for you as I put up each brick. I knew that you didn't want it so it was a sort of hollow feeling. I was used to doing it this way but he wanted it. He didn't want to build it, just to enjoy it like he had. I was saying it was for me, but hoping you would want it. You never did. I still don't understand and I guess that's the way it goes sometimes. A puzzle I can never fit together properly. The pieces are too similar. You didn't say a lot of things. I had asked a lot of questions but rarely got a real answer. You asked and I would answer. Then I would be puzzled by my own responses. I was always so painstakingly honest. It was days and days of processing. It still is. I still think about you saying you would have to sever all ties to everyone you knew to be with me and it didn't work out. I should have taken that as a premonition into my own future. You didn't lose anyone. You moved away. I feel like I did. I feel like my body lifted itself up into the sky and disappeared like the Lorax. Where did it go? It was lifted and taken somewhere. Perhaps she may come back. I stand here in this solid place I built and wonder if I deserve any of it. It seems so easy to take me down. I guess it's easy once I spent my whole life letting other people do it. I just felt so much stronger in some ways when I was younger. I feel so old, now. Like I don't want to fight so I just let the words lay down. It makes me sad and then I wonder why, as I sweep up the pieces, do they look like they could be my own words? I don't like them. They truly are his words, but they could have been mine at some point. Maybe I just bring this all on myself. Maybe I just ask for verbal abuse. I sometimes give in and fight and although it's only been two or three times since almost two years ago- it still hits me the same way.
I'm angry.
I'm angry about it all.
Why did he treat me that way? Why did I let him? Why did I think he could change? Why did I think that it wouldn't hurt at some point? Why did I think that love was the answer?
Why did I meet you?
Why didn't I meet you sooner?
Why did we meet before you had the worst thing ever happen to you?
Why did we meet again? Right before your life tipped upside down again.
I was thinking last night about why I wanted to strongly to move to Florida. I spent my tax return on a plane ticket to get away from him. I wanted to be in the sun. I had to take Max. I was pregnant at the time. It was really hard. I felt calm there. I felt at peace. I think that the place was part of the reason. Mostly, I think it was just because when I got home it was like a musty, hazy, dark, dank home. I walked in the door and wished I was back in the warm, sunny, clear air. This place was a prison. I started making steps for a five year plan to move away. To get away. All I had to do was just stay. But, move someone else out. Suddenly, I was clear headed for the first time in years. I realized how strong I was inside. I was told I'm cold. That I am horrible. That I have no heart. I didn't believe it then. It hit me hard, later. I don't believe it. But, I believe it hurts. I don't know when I'll get over this pain. Maybe I just never will. It has been a third of my life. I cannot simply move forward and never acknowledge that this abuse never happened. That I was constantly told I was awful until he needed something. Then I was berated until I gave in. I was treated like a queen until he got what he wanted and then thrown back in the dungeon, verbally. No one knew it. No one saw it. No one felt it. He had nothing but good things to say about me behind my back. I felt like I wasn't allowed to talk about how he made me feel. I would be met with, he loves you so much. He talks about you all the time, only good things. I showed up for every family meeting, red eyed, wiping the mascara from under my eyes, slowly over the years not wearing dresses anymore. Not wearing make-up. Not trying. Because, I was the crazy one. I was the one crying for no reason. He would show up and walk into the place with a smile on his face like he didn't just start a fight and then make me to blame for his feelings of uncomfortableness. Then it was my problem and I should comfort him because he has social anxiety. I was never much more than a wallflower. But, then I became a wall. Nothing lovely about needing to escape. Processing the torment on the way over while the kids are crying. No one understanding what I am going through. Trying to talk about it but being toxic myself, what could people say to me, except, that sucks. Then, change the subject.
I fear I've always been the perfect target. The person who wants to fade away. Just never be seen because then you can't get hurt. If people see me, it's exciting at first. I feel seen. I feel like maybe I shouldn't hide. So, I start to come out of my shell. I am happy, alive. I start to care. Then, I wonder, do I deserve this? So, I push away. I find a reason in my mind that you don't want me. A reason that this shouldn't work out. Anyone who stays is an anomaly. You left. You moved away. It felt so different. From everything. I cannot explain it. It makes relationships I have tried since feel different, too. It's not the same. I go back and forth. I still don't fully understand it all. I do know this, I need to do this part alone. I got as far as I could without you and then with you. And now I do it alone. I feel a pause. I want to know what I should do next, but there is a pause. So I try to continue my life. I keep trying to pursue what I can, slowly, so I can mix it all back in together. I long for you. I want to run my fingers through hair and kiss soft lips. I want to feel my heart beat back, feel yours inside, too. Feel your hands run down my side. There was that one day that you gave me butterfly kisses. You were spooning me, waiting for laundry to be done. You were being so sweet, it was confusing. You said you just wanted to be friends. But, your words never matched your actions. I enjoyed it all while I could. To know you after all that pain and abuse was like a warm breeze in the spring. Sometimes, there was a rush of cold before I felt the warmth of the sun again. Over and over. Until, you told me it wasn't working. True. I wanted to move towards the sun. Seasons change.
Hot and cold.
I'm angry.
I'm angry about it all.
Why did he treat me that way? Why did I let him? Why did I think he could change? Why did I think that it wouldn't hurt at some point? Why did I think that love was the answer?
Why did I meet you?
Why didn't I meet you sooner?
Why did we meet before you had the worst thing ever happen to you?
Why did we meet again? Right before your life tipped upside down again.
I was thinking last night about why I wanted to strongly to move to Florida. I spent my tax return on a plane ticket to get away from him. I wanted to be in the sun. I had to take Max. I was pregnant at the time. It was really hard. I felt calm there. I felt at peace. I think that the place was part of the reason. Mostly, I think it was just because when I got home it was like a musty, hazy, dark, dank home. I walked in the door and wished I was back in the warm, sunny, clear air. This place was a prison. I started making steps for a five year plan to move away. To get away. All I had to do was just stay. But, move someone else out. Suddenly, I was clear headed for the first time in years. I realized how strong I was inside. I was told I'm cold. That I am horrible. That I have no heart. I didn't believe it then. It hit me hard, later. I don't believe it. But, I believe it hurts. I don't know when I'll get over this pain. Maybe I just never will. It has been a third of my life. I cannot simply move forward and never acknowledge that this abuse never happened. That I was constantly told I was awful until he needed something. Then I was berated until I gave in. I was treated like a queen until he got what he wanted and then thrown back in the dungeon, verbally. No one knew it. No one saw it. No one felt it. He had nothing but good things to say about me behind my back. I felt like I wasn't allowed to talk about how he made me feel. I would be met with, he loves you so much. He talks about you all the time, only good things. I showed up for every family meeting, red eyed, wiping the mascara from under my eyes, slowly over the years not wearing dresses anymore. Not wearing make-up. Not trying. Because, I was the crazy one. I was the one crying for no reason. He would show up and walk into the place with a smile on his face like he didn't just start a fight and then make me to blame for his feelings of uncomfortableness. Then it was my problem and I should comfort him because he has social anxiety. I was never much more than a wallflower. But, then I became a wall. Nothing lovely about needing to escape. Processing the torment on the way over while the kids are crying. No one understanding what I am going through. Trying to talk about it but being toxic myself, what could people say to me, except, that sucks. Then, change the subject.
I fear I've always been the perfect target. The person who wants to fade away. Just never be seen because then you can't get hurt. If people see me, it's exciting at first. I feel seen. I feel like maybe I shouldn't hide. So, I start to come out of my shell. I am happy, alive. I start to care. Then, I wonder, do I deserve this? So, I push away. I find a reason in my mind that you don't want me. A reason that this shouldn't work out. Anyone who stays is an anomaly. You left. You moved away. It felt so different. From everything. I cannot explain it. It makes relationships I have tried since feel different, too. It's not the same. I go back and forth. I still don't fully understand it all. I do know this, I need to do this part alone. I got as far as I could without you and then with you. And now I do it alone. I feel a pause. I want to know what I should do next, but there is a pause. So I try to continue my life. I keep trying to pursue what I can, slowly, so I can mix it all back in together. I long for you. I want to run my fingers through hair and kiss soft lips. I want to feel my heart beat back, feel yours inside, too. Feel your hands run down my side. There was that one day that you gave me butterfly kisses. You were spooning me, waiting for laundry to be done. You were being so sweet, it was confusing. You said you just wanted to be friends. But, your words never matched your actions. I enjoyed it all while I could. To know you after all that pain and abuse was like a warm breeze in the spring. Sometimes, there was a rush of cold before I felt the warmth of the sun again. Over and over. Until, you told me it wasn't working. True. I wanted to move towards the sun. Seasons change.
Hot and cold.
Comments
Post a Comment