September 8, 2013

My story is a very sad one. The part that makes it the saddest, is that no one knows it. My history and its cruel character is one only I feel. You know when girls get raped, or beaten, it’s easy to relate to them feeling really small. Unfortunately there is nobody in this world who gets me, and I don’t think anyone ever will.

It’s impossible to convey an emotion when you don’t have the words for it. And it’s impossible to convey an emotion when its source is so outrageous that nobody will ever acknowledge it. If you fall, and are in pain, people will console you. If you don’t get what you want, and feel that pain, people will tell you to suck it up.
The pain’s there, but you’re alone with it.

From a very early age, actually as far back as I can remember, I was taught that voicing discontentment was complaining, and it wasn’t okay. Crying, being angry, raising my voice, it was all absolutely forbidden. It was immature and selfish, and I shouldn’t say it out loud. Just find a way to deal with it. Keep it contained though, by all means. Think about others first, they are always more important than you.
I feel spoiled, continuously. And I act that way, even though growing up I wasn’t actually spoiled. But I behave like a first class spoiled rotten child. I’m demanding, and needy, and entitled, and I can’t stand it when people don’t pay attention to me.
Every time I’m not happy about something, I feel guilty. As soon as some kind of wish pops up in my head, guilt comes right after it. Whatever comes at me feels like it should be enough. And when it’s not enough, I struggle to assert my own opinion about it.

It’s easy to make material decisions; I want this bed. I want an iPod. I want a smartphone. I want a tv. I want this and this food. I want to drink this juice and eat these dishes. But don’t ask me what I need from other people emotionally, please don’t ask me what I deserve. Nothing, I don’t deserve anything. Leave me behind, please, I can’t stand this closeness.
People tell me I’m strong, and it makes me tired. I’m tired of explaining that I’m not. Does anyone ever consider how rejecting it is when everyone tells you you’re wonderful? All my feelings and beliefs about myself are being denied. No, you’re wrong, you’re not what you think you are. YOU ARE WONDERFUL WHETHER YOU WANT TO OR NOT.

I wake up wishing I was someone else. I go to sleep hoping I’ll wake up with a new personality trait, or less of the ones I have and hate. I breathe regret, about what I am, did or said. I browse the internet looking at pictures of people who seem happy, sorted, I read blogs of people who have a little house with furniture and projects. Hours are wasted with this sick ritual of peering into strangers’ lives, wishing I could somehow be in there, instead of here. Not because they’re careless, they’re not. I even love their problems, the appeal is in the sheer fact that it’s not mine.
There is no escaping my skin, except for substances. Substances numb the discomfort of my existence.

Abuse is the only relationship I can suffer. It’s the only one that acknowledges me, the way I truly know that I am. The way that everybody refuses to accept me. It’s amazing what the lies people tell themselves, can do to you. Let me tell everyone this; showering someone with compliments is not helpful. It hurts. It puts someone down even more. Disregarding someone’s flaws as if they’re not there, never even naming them for fear of making them real, it doesn’t help anyone. It induces shame, guilt and depression.
The household I grew up in pretends everyone’s perfect. There are no flaws and if they somehow show through the cracks, it’s good form to ignore it. It’s absolutely smothering, and disables any and every opportunity for wholesome acceptance. Both to muster and experience it.

I’m intolerant. I have no patience. I have very little self control. I’m impulsive. I’m very critical of others, and myself. I’m competitive, and get very angry with myself when I’m not the best. Sometimes when my animals do something I don’t like, I hit them disproportionately hard. I’m afraid I will hit my children, like my father did. I’m jealous when I see a beautiful girl, but at the same time I want to be around her to feel that inferiority because I like punishing myself for not being perfect. Rejection drives me up the walls. I treat my mother with utter disrespect, same with my older brother -both are better people than I will ever be. I absolutely ignore my father unless I need something from him. When I’m angry with someone, I enjoy being able to hurt them back. I think in extremes and my understanding of the world is childishly divided in black or white. I tell myself I’m helpful to others, but it doesn’t ring true when you realize I just want to be accepted.

I’m a bitch. I scream it, I wish someone finally believed me. Acknowledged me. Let me exist.



August 3, 2013

I’m going to write this post because I think some of these thoughts could be helpful to others. My boyfriend doesn’t like it when I write on here without talking to him, because he wants us to communicate directly. Which is surprisingly demanding on his part. Writing here is often the only way I can let my emotions float freely. I should probably create a blog somewhere else, where he can’t read it.

I am just. So. Angry. At everything. At life. At things going the way they’re going. At him, for asking me if I’m “getting some good rest”, what do you think you fucking moron. At myself for not being stronger or better adapted to the situation. At him, at him, at him. He’s usually my source of comfort, but right now my voice is actually suffocated by anger. I can barely breathe anymore from all this fucking disappointment, anger and sadness that I’ve been swallowing, munching and forgiving.
It’s like a disgusting worm of pent up shit that is wriggling its way back up my throat, digging a hole in my chest.

I’m so angry that I’ve bent over backwards to be dependable, reliable and responsible, to always make sure paperwork, tickets, flights were well taken care of, to prepare things for when he would be here. And I never got that in return, never. I’m angry that I’ve read countless blogs, books and websites, committed to learning about alcoholism and how to be the best partner for him. I’m angry that even now, I’m angry at myself for being obviously codependent and therefore the only real culprit for my feeling this way. I’m angry that I’ve felt completely alone in all this.


He’s the alcoholic on his throne, anyone who can’t deal with that, is just codependent. Nobody can ask or expect him to never drink again, he’s the poor alcoholic, isn’t he? You can’t wait for that promise, you silly goose. He will drink again, and you should be prepared for that, as a good wife! And you will be supportive, and calm, and you will forgive him, because he’s a drunk and he can’t be held accountable for this! You can’t stress out about material shit, and you can’t lay too much on him, because it will stress him out! You must be FLAWLESS! Prepared to give him space when he needs it, but be close when he needs comfort! You must be patient, not expect his sobriety IN THE LEAST and BE INDEPENDENTLY HAPPY. When he’s passed out drunk in a dark alley, at any mugger’s mercy, you should NOT CALL 911. That’s your cue to take a nice hot bath and have a careless, 10 hour sleep!
His only priority is to go to AA and work on his sobriety, you as a wife are just a CRUTCH -especially your cooking skills. You should be prepared to raise children on your own, and to let him be the FUN PARENT who plays dangerous games with them while you’re not looking!
He will lie to you regularly, but you will STILL trust him inherently! Your own honesty will not be rewarded or acknowledged, it will be taken for granted every single day. In fact, everything will revolve around his AMAZING accomplishment of not having drunk for 24 hours, and EVERYTHING YOU DO will PALE IN COMPARISON NO MATTER WHAT. Besides the exhausting life of the alcoholic’s partner, which entails emotional sensors, x-ray fucking vision into his thoughts and chameleon-like abilities to adapt to his waves, you will also have a JOB AND CAREER because he won’t always be able to work or keep a job. You will NEVER FAIL to work your job consistently, but he will flutter from job to job, occasionally fucking up lifetime opportunities. SUCH IS LIFE.
Don’t expect empathy for your role in the relationship from him, either. Never forget that HE IS THE VICTIM OF THE DISEASE. When you get angry, he will counter it with excellent quotations from the big book and you will have to admit YOUR OWN WRONGS. It sucks! But for the marriage to work, YOU will have to do all the work. Many nights you will feel alone, hurt and tired, but none of it will matter if HE is having an amazing day! He will fucking mesmerize you with convoluted mindgames until you’re involved in some kind of fun activity he came up with! It’s GREAT!
Whenever you do something UNEXPECTED as a reaction to his drinking, he will suck up ALL YOUR SPACE and DEMAND that you reaffirm your love for him. But, never forget, YOU are NOT allowed to take his drinking personally. YOU are just the crutch, and you should just KNOW your place even if he gives you no reassurance.

This is your life now. You are that woman.


July 29, 2013

Day 1 of keeping my distance. Last night I sent him a very gentle e-mail, explaining how it’s probably important that I take a step back and take care of myself now for a few days. Unfortunately, he probably took it like he was supposed to do the same. In fact, I have no idea where he is, or what he’s doing. Last I heard he was at the airport, met some kids at an AA meeting nearby and was going to watch a movie with them.

We’ve had the “please keep me posted”-conversation so many times, I’m giving up on it. This is something I need to get ready for, and learn how to handle. He won’t keep me posted. I won’t know where he is and I will have to go to sleep alone. That’s how he is, how he’s always been. Nobody was ever interested where he was before, this is not something he’s ever had to learn.

Or maybe that’s not entirely true. His sister has been messaging me continuously asking for news. His roommate did the same. His dad was probably kept posted through his sister mostly, but I know they’ve all been messaging my boyfriend directly as well. He barely replied, he barely acknowledged their worry (which is code for their love).
People have always wanted news from him. As a teenager, falling off the face of the earth was probably his comfort zone, because they wanted news. A way to escape the shame, the guilt, his responsibilities. As crappily as family can respond sometimes (“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS” etc), as an adult you still have to own up to what you did.

When he disappeared in the past, their worry would double. Where could he be, what was he up to? Coming home everyone would be so relieved he was okay, the repercussions of his childish behavior wouldn’t seem so big.
Today he probably takes their worry largely as an insult. He’s almost 30, he doesn’t need anyone to worry or look out for him. The more people worry and fire “where are you?” messages at him, the more he regresses in that strange disconnected zone, where he will take the space he’s got and kick everyone else out of it. This is the point where he turns off his cell phone, disappears and enjoys the anonymity of a new town. There’s another 10 days before I arrive there, and he will use those days to vanish.

He’s always done tiny roadtrips when he was younger, escaping. Nobody knew him there, he could just be an innocent visitor, nobody would judge him. The bottom line being that he likes to avoid his past.

Soon we are to be married. He could use this time to go back home and make some additional preparations. Prepare the house, look for nice places for us to go. But he won’t. I’m going to arrive and I don’t even know if anyone will be there to pick me up. Luckily I know there’s Greyhound buses from the airport to where he- “we” live, so I can always go that route.

I know I will be fine. And that’s all I need to be concerned with. If he’s not, that’s his problem. Not mine. Not anymore. I won’t lie for him, or cover for him. I will inform people of what he does, to my knowledge, and fuck ‘being in each others corner’. He’s not even in mine. For the first time in days, I feel like I can breathe.


July 28, 2013

I feel I have a lot to vomit now. This blog comes alive as I sink inside my own pool of confusion.

When my boyfriend relapsed this weekend, a week of very intensive contact preceded it. He was stuck at an airport, and I felt obliged to keep him company through Skype. After all, it was for me, for us, that he was sitting there, sacrificing time and sleep. My self esteem is actually low enough that that made me feel guilty. Looking back now, I’m disgusted by my own lack of character, my weakness. I really am so, so weak.
What I should have done, was to live on. Take my mind off things, relax and enjoy the Summer. Maybe he wouldn’t have relapsed at all then.

This relationship will absolutely destroy me if things stay the same. But there is no way out of it. Some days I think maybe there could be, maybe I could learn to mourn it and survive it being over. Maybe I could meet someone else, someone who wouldn’t endanger me. My essence. Someone who isn’t an alcoholic, who would just love me. Not because of a desperate cling to life, to salvation, not because he sees in me some kind of sign. Just because he likes me, and grows fond of me, and eventually wants to be with me and respect me.
But it is what it is. I did fall insanely in love with him. So now all that’s left for me to do, is work on myself so I don’t die from it.

Sometimes I don’t know if his love for me isn’t an incredibly selfish claim he lays upon me. If it isn’t his own needs who dictated this relationship to ever come to exist. A big part of that probably being my own fault.
I’m much, much too easy. Once I left him, early on, but I don’t think I could ever find that strength back.

My needs are… My needs are for him to be reliable. For him to be dependable and responsible, and constantly too. My needs are small, and often maybe materialistic, but they are necessary for all the rest. It feels like I’m the only one paying attention to reality. My needs are also the ones who are ignored, and I am left helpless to find out how to change that feeling. Because I’m the one who isn’t communicating, I’m the one who lets him determine the mood. I’m the one compromising my own wishes for his sake, because he has to be okay.
But how do I stop doing that? How do I put my foot down and grow independent from his mood? He will suck all the air out of my lungs if he needs it, and I will probably willingly exhale.

He’s an addict, he will always be that way. I have to be the force that resists. But I need a force like that myself, and he will never be that for me. He will randomly, and without notice fail me. He gets to do that.
So maybe I’m expecting too much. He shouldn’t be my rock, my thermometer. He’s just a man.

It’s time to grow up and resist him. Because he will always ask for more, he will always try to grab what he can get, and he will never be able to consider my capacity while doing so.


April 20, 2013

Total abstinence seems to be working for me. I’m quiet, more composed, less emotional and more stable. The obvious insecurities still haunt me, but they can’t really get to me like they could, usually on hangover days. I also have more time to observe others, to pick up on states of mind of others. I really like that.

With that though also comes more awareness of what people tell me. For some reason, people tend to confide in me a lot, but I used to listen, remember the gist of it and forget all the rest. The process is more conscious now, and can also leave more scars.
One of my friends, whom I’ve known for a long time now, is together with a very good female friend. I’ve known him longer than her, and we’ve always been very good at having in depth conversations about things. He’s a thinker (also kind of a fretter), and it just always ends up as a really philosophical thought process on basically anything under the sun. Because this habit exists, we also talk very openly and easily about everything.
But last night, he touched a topic that I didn’t enjoy. He told me that I was strong, gentle and nurturing, and that my partner being an alcoholic just meant that I would have to exercise that role all the time. He didn’t feel like I was taken care of the way I deserve, and that me leaving my life behind to live abroad was a risk he didn’t like to see me take.

A surge of defensive arguments immediately surfaced in my brain. But I hate having to defend myself, anyone I care about or my choices. I didn’t say much, except that he couldn’t judge because he’d only met my partner once. I did appreciate his honesty and his genuine concern, and I told him that. There is no doubt in my mind that he voiced his worries only because he cares about me and wants to prevent me from getting hurt.
But it did hurt. It hurts me that my friend thinks of my partner as a leech, or as someone who doesn’t take care of me. It hurts me that my friend thinks he’s not strong, that he’s the one who needs me, more than the other way around. It hurts me that my friend said exactly what worried me, and what I was afraid of. No, no, don’t get me wrong, I’m not afraid that my partner is a leech, I know he’s not. But I’ve been afraid of my environment seeing him as such. Why? Don’t ask me that. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I want to be thin, I don’t know why I care what people think about me.

This fear of mine has crippled my boyfriend in more than one way. He probably felt awkward and intimidated, since obviously their opinions made such a difference for me. He’s also reserved and, well, shy, so he had a hard time engaging conversation. People didn’t always speak English around him, so he couldn’t always participate in the talks. My friends have apologized to me countless times for that, saying that maybe their own attitudes contributed to his feeling of emptiness, when he relapsed. Said it was understandable that he would relapse, in a foreign country where people don’t speak his language, unable to work. They have all been so forgiving and supportive. I’m torn between loving them for it, and cursing them for having been harsh. As if my partner being shy means he’s spineless, as if him being rather quiet means he’s a pushover.
To this day I feel guilty for the burden I put on my partner. I put him in an impossibly difficult situation, having to prove himself worthy to my clan of friends. Nobody wants to feel that way, nobody wants his girlfriend’s devotion to depend on outsiders. And it doesn’t, not to that extreme.

I talked to my partner about all this earlier, and guess what. He did exactly what my friend was warning me about. As I was trying to explain how I felt a little destabilized, and struggled with feelings of hurt and confusion, he got angry. With me, for listening, and with my friend, for saying what he felt was right. Immediately, the situation got flipped around to me having to help my partner deal with his frustration.
That was infuriating. I shut down the conversation (which was going entirely nowhere) and assertively asked for peace. I just wanted to be comforted, I wanted him to be calm and to tell me that he loved me and that he would do everything in his power to make me happy (and thus to prove them wrong). I didn’t ask to be judged or chastised for caring about their opinions, as if that’s something I can readily change. They are my friends, I care for them and they obviously care about me. I hate that he got angry at my friend for saying something that he was in the process of fulfilling.

Relationships are hard work. It’s hard work whether you’re an alcoholic, an addict or anything else. It gets harder as people in the relationship are trying to be something different than their true self though. This disillusions me more than anything. My boyfriend says he’s not shy, but when I see him around others he doesn’t know, he gets nervous and awkward. I don’t mind that fact, never did. But beforehand he made it seem like he was none of those things, and that discrepancy, that bothers me.
He plays bass, I have never heard him play a single note. In fact, only once have I seen him with the instrument in his hands. Does he play well? Does he improvise? Does he have a certain style to his music? I don’t know, I don’t even know if I ever will.
A lot of things are either not talked about, denied or avoided altogether. If I had to say something that I find the least attractive about him, that would be it. He jokingly calls himself ‘clueless’, and that’s supposed to warn me for every flaw he has. Clueless has almost become a term of endearment now, except when he’s in trouble, and he can say he ‘told me he was clueless and I knew what I was in for’. Clueless doesn’t just mean he doesn’t know how to dress, it means he doesn’t know how to organize groceries, he would never come up with doing laundry unless he was out of things to wear, he doesn’t plan much ahead, what little plans he makes usually aren’t realistic and above all, I knew what I was in for.
He slept with tons and tons of girls, though he says he’s average and clueless. Yes, he never lied to them, I bet he never even tried to make himself look good. Why can’t he just be upfront about these things, it doesn’t make sense to me. It’s like I’m this ominous, out-of-his-league-person that he can’t make mistakes around, whereas he’s making more now trying to cover up the honest mistakes.

That makes me so angry. There’s also his vague and repetitive terms for an immense variation of things. Like I’m supposed to know, from context, what it stands for that time. ‘Broke’ can go from 0 dollars to 800 saved, but he’d rather not touch. ‘Funky’ can go from slightly in a grumpy mood, to completely annihilated. ‘Awkward’ can go from funnily and indifferently nonchalant, to extremely shut down and attempting to disappear in the walls. His vocabulary isn’t restricted though, he knows many more words. He chooses the comfortable vagueness of repeating the same words, and keeps the other side confused because he likes the luxury of not having to explain himself. It’s like I’m not worth putting the energy into, to make sure I understand exactly what he’s talking about.
The conversation isn’t as premeditated as it might sound from this paragraph. My partner doesn’t plot his sentences to make sure I’m not entirely up to speed, but he also doesn’t actively put in the effort to put emphasis on certain things when they really are worse. If yesterday he used ‘funky’ for a grumpy mood, he wouldn’t think of using ‘irate’ the next day if he’s proper furious. He’d just tell me he’s in a weird funk, and expect me to hear in his voice exactly where he’s at. Which I fucking don’t.

I’m angry, sad and nauseous. The internship I’m at is awful, they give risperidone to a 9 y/o child. But, this is normal and the doctor probably has an excellent reason for this, says my partner, who didn’t care to listen to my worries about the actual internship. Isn’t my support system wonderful? I have to give up my involved friends, and move to a foreign country where all I’ll have is a man who isn’t very stable, but in fundamental denial about that fact. I’m freaking out.


April 6, 2013

The worst seems to have passed. I woke back up after 4 hours, but that’s usually the case after an upsetting event. When I got up to go to the bathroom, I could barely open my eyes. Puffy, stingy and red. My legs hurt and it was hard to put my weight on them. I could tell that if I got up too quickly, I would get orthostatic hypotension and fall.

When I got called for lunch, I didn’t go. Mom would see my face, still betraying what a night I had, and she would worry. A bit later I did go downstairs to find food, my father was posted up at the kitchen wall with his iPad. I didn’t talk to him, nor did I respond to his greeting. By now, I would think that he would have given up on greeting me altogether. But he has this obnoxious, tenacious urge to impose his own values onto others, so I get his greetings anyway while my skin crawls.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t really find any substantial food, so I took a small piece of bread and munched on it as I went back upstairs. I wasn’t very hungry, and I certainly did not have the energy to look for food more vigorously. The latter option would also mean remaining in the same room for a longer time with my father, which for the time being is an unbearable thing. As I walked passed him to get to the stairs, I could feel him look at me, observing me. I wanted to vomit, or plant a knife in his face.

My boyfriend is asleep, and I meekly tried to wake him up but he didn’t seem ready to leave his dreams behind. It’s lonely, but everyone needs rest.

Earlier, when I got up to feed my cat, I almost dropped to the floor. I ate 5 chocolate Easter eggs to pump up my blood pressure a bit. The sleep I got was insufficient, superficial and I almost feel more tired now than I did before trying to catch some. I’ve been awake since 9 AM, snoozing, watching documentaries on medieval Europe on YouTube.
There’s so much school work lined up for me, this happening enhances my stress level significantly. It’s like losing an entire day, and for what? Does anyone of us feel better now?
Wow, I’m pretty bitter.
As much as yesterday I felt wronged, hurt for the sake of it and used, those feelings will get me nowhere. There was so much reproach that I accepted as legitimate, and suddenly it all got brushed aside as just being “an asshole rant”. If you want to confuse me, that’s the way to go; get me to feel like I made a mistake, and then proceed to tell me that I didn’t do anything wrong. More than angry, I’m confused. So, so confused.

Codependency, by definition, means making the relationship more important to you than you are to yourself. It’s kind of a weird phrase, and it doesn’t sound like it means a one-sided relationship. But that’s what it is. It means you’re trying to make the relationship work with someone else who’s not.” – Tina Tessina (source)

Except that last part is incorrect. My boyfriend is trying to make this work. And he’s fighting as hard as I am for it. In fact, he’s been working very, very hard to make enough money for us to be comfortable in the future when we live together. I’m a student, so I haven’t earned a penny in all of this.
The characteristics of codependent partners never struck me as accurate before either (source). But now I have to revisit that, as heavy as that makes my heart feel.

  • An exaggerated sense of responsibility for the actions of others

I barely feel responsible enough for my own. Though maybe that confirms the problem. Actually, I can see that. Feeling like I need to be in charge because people are counting on me, when I could just as easily step aside and not do that.

  • A tendency to confuse love and pity, with the tendency to “love” people they can pity and rescue

Well. When we first met, he was in pretty bad shape. But I was disappointed that he was, not elated like ‘ohhh, poor thing, I’m going to *save* you’. What is pity? I feel sorry for some of the things he’s had to go through, yes. But he survived them, and I admire him for that. I’m not even sure if I have the ability to feel pity, for anyone. Again; maybe that confirms the problem. Maybe it’s all I can feel.

  • A tendency to do more than their share, all of the time

Until I burn the fuck out, yeah. It’s easy to forget your own limitations, when your goal is to meet the other person’s needs.

  • A tendency to become hurt when people don’t recognize their efforts

That’s true, it’s in my nature. But I have to be fair; I’ve come the longest way on that. I’ve gotten a lot better about this, and I can let go of a lot of things with ease now. The world will keep turning, whether I feel patted on the back or not. And the world just wants me to contribute, like everyone else. You don’t get patted on the back for functioning in society, even if for me it’s very challenging. Maybe for others it’s just as challenging, but they never had this need to be applauded.

  • An unhealthy dependence on relationships. The co-dependent will do anything to hold on to a relationship; to avoid the feeling of abandonment

Well. Shit.

  • An extreme need for approval and recognition

I don’t know? Maybe?

  • A sense of guilt when asserting themselves


  • A compelling need to control others

No. Just no.

  • Lack of trust in self and/or others

Unfortunately this one might be accurate.

  • Fear of being abandoned or alone


  • Difficulty identifying feelings

I think this is one of my stronger points. Communicating and expressing what I feel is something I’m very, very good at. I’m thoroughly trained, thanks to all the therapy I’ve undergone. On the other hand, I struggle with a fuckload of weird quirks and habits that I need to deal with every day life. I also fret a lot, which is an escape mechanism to not calmly experience the emotions concerning the subject. So maybe I only apparently express my feelings, whereas deep down inside there are demons who are never grazed. I wouldn’t know, would I?

  • Rigidity/difficulty adjusting to change

Define change. When I go to a new place for an internship, I’m a nervous wreck. But isn’t that normal? I have surges of absolute necessity to rearrange my room, and out of nowhere I dig up mounds of energy from within, to execute the idea I have in my head. Soon I’m moving to the other side of the world, and it doesn’t intimidate me much.
I should also mention that I’m pretty naive and impulsive, and I may not fully grasp the actual change I’m about to undergo.

  • Problems with intimacy/boundaries

My boundaries are those of whoever I’m with. That’s what that means, isn’t it?

  • Chronic anger

Not impossible, but again; how would I know?

  • Lying/dishonesty


  • Poor communications


  • Difficulty making decisions

Yes, I think so. But sometimes not. If I have to choose between two jeans, I’ll have a harder time than deciding what car to buy. That can happen in a flash. Actually, no, I’m good about making decisions. But my boyfriend tends to be really pissed off when I change my mind about something, so lately I’ve been slower to come to them.

I’m crushed to realize that I am a codependent partner, making life harder for my partner. I’m mostly crushed to have been so self righteous and self absorbed, almost narcissistic, that I could never see it before. That wasn’t me, no, I was the perfect girlfriend.
And now I have to start the long ass process of attempting to forgive myself, which will take for fucking ever.


April 6, 2013

The last few days had been really good, but tonight, the house of cards completely collapsed.

When I left to meet up with my fellow students, we had a mellow, nice conversation and my partner assured me that we could talk about the past later when I got home -he knows I love that. I love hearing about his childhood, his family, the adventures he was on drunk.
So we did, and it started out really nicely. He talked to me a bit about his sister, and I found out a bit about how their relationship evolved. My partner doesn’t usually explain things very thoroughly, unless you ask the right questions. There’s no bad intent there, he just doesn’t think to talk about them.

The mood turned though. That happens, one moment he can be calm and understanding, the next he’s grumpy and starts to rant about things going wrong.

But it was never like this. I’m still very confused, and I’m still fuzzy on what happened. I know I’m sad, I feel misunderstood and very scared. But I can’t get a clear oversight on what exactly happened or why.
Last night I didn’t sleep well, or much, and I had to get up this morning to go to a meeting with classmates. There was a lot of tension between me and a good friend of mine, and I felt uncomfortable going home. Almost like something broke in our friendship. Hard to say if there’s any truth to it, I can overreact to these things. In a week everything could be fine again. But I felt tired, and sad. When I had asked her about her writings in our group work, she told me I was attacking her and my tone wasn’t nice. I vaguely defended myself, saying I didn’t see that, and felt like that was her own thing. Nothing really got outspoken though, after a while she just pretended nothing had happened and I just went home feeling crappy.

I was already not in a good place, and I can see how being tired, a bit preoccupied by that situation and more emotional than normal, made me react poorly to my partner’s anger. He needed to talk to me, about the time we split up. When I told him to go home, back in October, and take a break. He needed to vent some of his feelings about that situation, and he was right. That entire month after I sent him away, I ignored him. I left him bathing in his bitter sadness, thinking he had lost me forever.
I didn’t get defensive, I didn’t interrupt him, I didn’t try to justify what I did. But when he explained exactly how I had made him feel, I couldn’t help but cry. There was nothing I could do, I felt so bad. The man I love the most in the world, the man I want to surround with warmth, love and peace, I had damn near broken. So I apologized, clearly stating what I had done wrong and what it was that I said sorry for.

I think this is where things went wrong. I have this terrible, terrible tendency to cry very easily. I hate it, I curse it, but there’s jack shit I can do about it. And he feels cornered when I do; it makes it impossible for him to feel free to talk. He feels like a monster, making me cry. And the freedom to speak about whatever he wants is gone that way. But this was the first time he actually got mean about it. Or I perceived him as mean, I have no clue. Like I said, I’m confused and shaken up by this, we had never had a conversation like this.
This time he wasn’t understanding, or compromising. He got pissed at me for being upset, and I felt like my back was against the wall. I wanted to stop crying, but couldn’t. But I also felt like it was okay for me to cry over a mistake I had made, because it was out of sympathy and remorse.

It’s all very fresh, so all these things are very colored by my own perception and I’m well acquainted with my own antisocial traits, that cloud my vision. He needed to vent, but I took his room. I let my thoughts wonder down the lane of regret and guilt, and started to cry. Was that a choice? Was that an indulgence? Maybe it was, I have no idea.
As he desperately tried to get more room, tried to breathe, I got more upset. Why wasn’t I allowed to cry? Why was he being so one-sided? Why was this so different than conversations we’d had before, had something snapped? Changed? Did I push it too far?

I’m still trying to gather my thoughts. Some basic connection that I had always felt, some fundamental trust that had never left me during fights or arguments, wasn’t there this time. He sounded incoherent, chaotic. He wasn’t entirely himself, and it scared me. Was he that angry? Was he drunk?

As I tried to get some comfort from him, he got angrier. There’s nothing more infuriating than someone playing the victim role, and them asking for consolation on top of that. But I honestly have no idea what I should have done. I was nailed to the floor, I had lost my connection with him and I was sick to my stomach.
Is that unhealthy? Do I depend too much on his stability? Is it dangerous for me to be in a relationship where I break down every time he does? Is this what they talk about in the codependency books? I never thought of myself as codependent, nor did I ever understand how people could even be that way. Look for proof of them buying liquor, emptying their pockets, asking about their meetings all the time. That was never me. But this… am I suffocating him? Oh my god, am I!?

I don’t think I’ve ever been this afraid since we’ve been together. Not only have I been confused about my “recovery” (still not 100% certain I’m even an addict), now I have to try and find a way back to him. But my mind is in paranoid-mode now, still feverishly looking for the difference between right and wrong.
What just happened? How do I feel? Do I have the right to feel this way, or am I wrong? What really happened, did I imagine things? Did I interpret things the wrong way, and react poorly? I can’t tell!
THERE’S NO WAY FOR ME TO KNOW WHAT’S REAL AND WHAT’S IN MY HEAD. And what’s worse, I don’t trust him to help me find it. He fucked with my head.

How did it get to this? How did a normal conversation about our break-up spiral into me feeling so confused? I try to go back to it, but I can’t see.

How can I learn to keep my tears inside? How can I learn to let his rants, his angry words and his emotional space exist? And how did this ever escape my attention even, what the fuck. The adrenaline is still pumping, but I can feel I’m very tired. It’s 6 AM, but sleep is far away still. So long as I make it through the night, I’ll be alright. Only a few more hours and the sun will come up, I’ll be able to nap then.