I've posted on this blog for half my life now. Just for me. The only reason it's public is in case anybody finds it one day and assimilates to anything I'm saying. But it's mostly for me. I know who I am, and why I do it, and that's all that matters to me.
But the fact of the matter is, I've never been this hurt before. I wish that I could find some artistic or beautiful, romantacised way to explain it, but there's no better way to get this across to myself, as I said earlier, other than I am just really hurt. It doesn't matter how many ways I twist it, how many ways I can remind myself that I understand why this has happened, and it doesn't matter that I can relate to it in some way, and it doesn't matter that I have sympathies towards the whys and hows. The bottom line is that I have been hurt. The bottom line is that I dug inside myself time and time again to offer forgiveness and fight the repeatitive, relentless doubt that crawled through every corner of my mind. I chose to believe this time would be different. I chose to try, time and time again, to allow him to change, and he never did. We sobbed together and wished things would be different, but patterns kept repeating. Secrets kept from me. Actions hidden. Addictions or compulsions shrouded in shame. And the gaslighting - oh, god, the gaslighting. Once everything is back out in the open again, going to sleep next to that person for the first time and realising that you have done this hundreds of times before, not knowing that they were living a secret life behind your back? It kills me every time.
And now, something new is happening to me. I'm not sure who I can trust anymore. The thought that somebody I am so close to can continue to lie to me and get away with it - how much of a fairytale am I really living, in other areas of my life? Do my family not really like spending time with me? What about friends? Collegues? What if I am just really, truly that horribly naieve. What if everyone I know is taking me for a fucking ride. How could I possibly know?
It feels like a horrible, unwelcome paranoia that penetrates my brain and I am so tired of it. I have always been a relatively confident person - I have my insecurities like anybody else - but I have never really questioned my friends or family's love for me, or whether or not they want to spend time with me, or anything like that at all. But suddenly, all these thoughts are clouding my brain. And I am not stupid - I know that it is irrational, I know that I am experiencing this because of something else that has been happening to me, but I can't deny that it doesn't effect me. I am tired of it, and I just want to be able to trust the person that I am supposed to be able to rely on more than anything.
I used to describe it like this; he came to me one day with a plate he broke, and I said, it's okay, we can fix it. We glued it back together. There were still a couple of cracks where the glue held it, but it was together again, maybe even stronger than before. A few months later, he came back to me again and the same plate was broken. We repaired it for a second time, a little harder to achieve as we had those original cracks to repair again but we did it. And as time has passed, he's now come to me for the fifth time and this plate is basically just a pile of shards and dust and I honestly just don't even know where to begin.
I know where the door is, and maybe I really am just fucking stupid. Maybe I should have ended it three years ago, two years ago, yesterday. Tomorrow. Next week. But I don't. Why? Because, sadly, I am just as broken, just as emotionally unreliable. Just in a different way.
But hey. Maybe this time it'll be different. No?
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