New. Now what?
Why am I here? What great mystical answer did i think the Internet would serve me up via its chief sorceror Google? But here i am typing.
Anger is the defining feeling of my life. Suppressed simmering rage, always just below the surface. I'm not really a quiet person, i just seem like i am because i spend all my time trying to STFU cause i'm afraid of what stinging comment i'll make next. I'm so sick of being angry, literally sick, my life is one long panic attack. That moment of adrenaline shock, hollow rush in the chest, butterfly stomach - that instant that happens to everyone, sustained for days or weeks on end in me.
Always waiting for the next crisis or disaster and relieved when it finally happens because it ends the suspense. Temporarily. But its false, those signals are false because the feeling of impending doom is a short circuit, i know now, feeling like disaster is about to strike at any moment when it really isn't, when things are basically OK, i've been able to notice it better for a few years now but oh man it ain't workin' today.
This is going to be a long, incoherent rant of nonsense. Bail now if your eyes are crossing already. I'm afraid on top of everything else i recently found out i was diagnosed with schizophrenia after my abuse period ended, but that's freed me in a way - i used to think i was "just crazy"
. I don't have to wonder why i get so incomprenesible to other people or why it seems like they speak another language. An odd source of relief but i'll take what i can get.
Oh, boy. I have no one to talk to and i feel like i have to tell "every part" of this mess so if you're still here reading, settle in and get a drink or something, this inflight movie's gonna be long if i don't wuss out and close the browser before i post it.
I was abused by the family babysitter for G-d only knows how many years, but judging by what i can remember of the times we lived in that place it was likely between the ages of 4 or 5ish and ending at 11 or 12ish.
That's such an effing ridiculous paragraph it doesn't even seem real.
So that happened. And it's bad enough, as well as the denial, the parental denial and uselessness... i'm so angry at them, the poor stupid bastards, they were having their own problems and i've had to figure everything out myself. This happened and I had to remember, I apparently witnessed a suicide attempt by my mother and she and my father wrestling with a gun and i i had to be told, i have a good strong dose of paranoid schizophrenia and had to figure that out myself and get it "confirmed." The school psychologist, diagnosing me so young, apparently thought it would do me "more harm than good" to go forward with this, and maybe, with the drugs they had in the early 80s, he was right? Guess i'll never know.
But all the pretending nothing was wrong with me to make sure i had a 'normal' life... Guess what? DIDN'T WORK!! Did i mention was angry?
The current issue is what's getting to me now, however. I recently ended a terribly unhealthy and mutually self-destructive relationship with the woman i thought i was going to stay with forever.
Geez, another ridiculous paragraph.
But i see now, again on my own thanks to years of practice and not having a choice, all the power issues. She pushes my buttons semi-aware she's doing so and sends me into Victim mode, and as an unwitting master of the art myself, i know a champion-level passive agressor when i see one. They may have to pop me in the nose a few times first but i see them eventually, oh yes! Can't get one by me.
this week's game was an annual favorite. it's called "hide the child on the birthday." Mind you, her birthday was a short time before, and i took them out to dinner, despite being broke and fielding daily calls from bill collectors.
Yay guilt! Look, see, i'm a worthwhile male, i buy you food, love me. Yeah.
On the note of guilt, please understand that there is *SO MUCH MORE* to this, that it goes without saying i'm no saint, and that while i was never physically abusive in any way (and thought i must be 'all better and fine nowadays' because of it, that proves it right?) i am quite capable of being a world-class bastard and i react to pain inflicted on me by being a jerk, like a scared animal with a degree in Biting Sarcasm.
But i finally realized something about our current level of "relationship," which is i show up about once a week and have some time with our daughter, and she acts like i'm a human being. we talk. we'll watch a movie sometimes. she's the only person i talk to in the world, which all leads to the power issue i'm getting at regarding support: when she withdraws it.
what a neat trick. the day before my birthday she doesn't return my call. All day on it, which is when i usually visit anyway... oh g-d, please tell me that wasn't just 2 days ago... no answer, no return call. Not knowing what else to do, i show up at her house around the time i usually would.
Gone.
I stand in the cold for an hour and a half.
Nothing.
No answer on the cellphone. No return. Not even the cold courtesy of a "piss off."
Because of course it's all about the power she can grab now, and punishing me - whatever need she's serving by this ambush, that's her replacement for therapy. I've had mine in other ways. I understand the concept. It still sucks.
And i'm furious. I mentioned that, right?
ANd partly i know why.
If a man married a woman who had been raped, one would hope he'd be a little underdstanding of touchy sexual issues she might have. If he demanded sex on his schedule, if he made any hesitation she exhibited all about him, if he KNEW she'd been raped and decided it wasn't his problem, she should just "let it go" or "talk about it" a few times so we could all move on and get back to fulfilling "his needs," that man would be universally despised, women's rights groups would be as we say here in philly ALL UP IN HIS FACE, they'd make a popular TV movie about the miserable pig and the fictional TV heroine would with the empowerment and support of friends, loved ones, and a street-smart tough yet caring counselor, lift herself up and out and leave the SOB forever and be applauded for it.
I'm sure you can all see where this is going, right?
ANd i ask myself, great flaming balls of sewage (insert actual much stronger language), WTF was i thinking for 5 years during all this? Why didn't i realize she was an abuser too, just like everyone else i've let use guilt and shame and fear control me? How sick and angry am i when i can't get out of my head over and over again -
she knew i'd been abused as a child - and it wasn't her problem.
she knew sex would frequently make me sick, and ashamed, and scared - and DIDN'T CARE.
she knew that this sort of sudden intimate dysfunction had happened to me with every partner i've ever had - and it was all about her. She was too fat (meaning really, of course, i was a pig for not wanting to have sex with her because she's too fat) (she isn't even fat ffs! she ain't kate friggin moss but that's the last GD thing i cared about), i was having an affair, i made the mistake of telling her i was bisexual and then it was because i was having an affair with men (aargh!), etc etc so on and so forth.
Not once was it ever entertained that, as my loving wife and a nice human being who cared about me, her getting off when she wanted to might occasionally take a back seat to my friggin' trauma-induced flashbacks and feelings of lust/disgust and shame and self-loathing that stemmed from this cross-wiring.
I'm drained. There's more, of course, so much more, and i realize you all know that but there's so little trust in me, that nagvoice is going "they'll misunderstand, they won't get it, you have to write a GD autobiography so they'll understand you."
so.
all i want is for her to understand this: that in my long miserable cycle of abuse and seeking abusers to hold power over me, she was one too. it's okay. sh! happens. it's over now. we're moving on, and sadly we're probably going to move on seperately since there's been so much, too much, i think i pretty effectively killed any real love she might have felt for me anyway. but i want her to know and acknowlege this, and understand the truth of it. and it won't ever happen. she didn't believe me when we were together, why now when i've left and all the problems she has has ever had or will ever had are my fault?
if past precedent is any example, in a week or 2 at most it will be back to 'pretending this little incident never took place.' But when things just keep getting worse, i can't even trust that. i can't trust anything any more. Here's a situation that can't be run from, can't be abandoned, can't be left behind or ignored or forgotten.
All she wanted when i met her was a child, a daughter, all she thought or spoke or talked about, and i felt so worthwhile to give her one - look, see, i reproduced, i have a woman a baby, i gave you what you've wanted all your life, i'm a worthwhile man, love me! - and now i'm in a state of sheer terror 99% of the time. How does this situation end? How does this get better? How does this get fixed? How can i get to the mythical place when i don't feel like i've been punched in the stomach all day every day? How the HELL did i let things get here and how do i make it right?
so now what?
... lil help?
Anger is the defining feeling of my life. Suppressed simmering rage, always just below the surface. I'm not really a quiet person, i just seem like i am because i spend all my time trying to STFU cause i'm afraid of what stinging comment i'll make next. I'm so sick of being angry, literally sick, my life is one long panic attack. That moment of adrenaline shock, hollow rush in the chest, butterfly stomach - that instant that happens to everyone, sustained for days or weeks on end in me.
Always waiting for the next crisis or disaster and relieved when it finally happens because it ends the suspense. Temporarily. But its false, those signals are false because the feeling of impending doom is a short circuit, i know now, feeling like disaster is about to strike at any moment when it really isn't, when things are basically OK, i've been able to notice it better for a few years now but oh man it ain't workin' today.
This is going to be a long, incoherent rant of nonsense. Bail now if your eyes are crossing already. I'm afraid on top of everything else i recently found out i was diagnosed with schizophrenia after my abuse period ended, but that's freed me in a way - i used to think i was "just crazy"
. I don't have to wonder why i get so incomprenesible to other people or why it seems like they speak another language. An odd source of relief but i'll take what i can get.Oh, boy. I have no one to talk to and i feel like i have to tell "every part" of this mess so if you're still here reading, settle in and get a drink or something, this inflight movie's gonna be long if i don't wuss out and close the browser before i post it.
I was abused by the family babysitter for G-d only knows how many years, but judging by what i can remember of the times we lived in that place it was likely between the ages of 4 or 5ish and ending at 11 or 12ish.
That's such an effing ridiculous paragraph it doesn't even seem real.
So that happened. And it's bad enough, as well as the denial, the parental denial and uselessness... i'm so angry at them, the poor stupid bastards, they were having their own problems and i've had to figure everything out myself. This happened and I had to remember, I apparently witnessed a suicide attempt by my mother and she and my father wrestling with a gun and i i had to be told, i have a good strong dose of paranoid schizophrenia and had to figure that out myself and get it "confirmed." The school psychologist, diagnosing me so young, apparently thought it would do me "more harm than good" to go forward with this, and maybe, with the drugs they had in the early 80s, he was right? Guess i'll never know.
But all the pretending nothing was wrong with me to make sure i had a 'normal' life... Guess what? DIDN'T WORK!! Did i mention was angry?
The current issue is what's getting to me now, however. I recently ended a terribly unhealthy and mutually self-destructive relationship with the woman i thought i was going to stay with forever.
Geez, another ridiculous paragraph.
But i see now, again on my own thanks to years of practice and not having a choice, all the power issues. She pushes my buttons semi-aware she's doing so and sends me into Victim mode, and as an unwitting master of the art myself, i know a champion-level passive agressor when i see one. They may have to pop me in the nose a few times first but i see them eventually, oh yes! Can't get one by me.
this week's game was an annual favorite. it's called "hide the child on the birthday." Mind you, her birthday was a short time before, and i took them out to dinner, despite being broke and fielding daily calls from bill collectors.
Yay guilt! Look, see, i'm a worthwhile male, i buy you food, love me. Yeah.
On the note of guilt, please understand that there is *SO MUCH MORE* to this, that it goes without saying i'm no saint, and that while i was never physically abusive in any way (and thought i must be 'all better and fine nowadays' because of it, that proves it right?) i am quite capable of being a world-class bastard and i react to pain inflicted on me by being a jerk, like a scared animal with a degree in Biting Sarcasm.
But i finally realized something about our current level of "relationship," which is i show up about once a week and have some time with our daughter, and she acts like i'm a human being. we talk. we'll watch a movie sometimes. she's the only person i talk to in the world, which all leads to the power issue i'm getting at regarding support: when she withdraws it.
what a neat trick. the day before my birthday she doesn't return my call. All day on it, which is when i usually visit anyway... oh g-d, please tell me that wasn't just 2 days ago... no answer, no return call. Not knowing what else to do, i show up at her house around the time i usually would.
Gone.
I stand in the cold for an hour and a half.
Nothing.
No answer on the cellphone. No return. Not even the cold courtesy of a "piss off."
Because of course it's all about the power she can grab now, and punishing me - whatever need she's serving by this ambush, that's her replacement for therapy. I've had mine in other ways. I understand the concept. It still sucks.
And i'm furious. I mentioned that, right?
ANd partly i know why.
If a man married a woman who had been raped, one would hope he'd be a little underdstanding of touchy sexual issues she might have. If he demanded sex on his schedule, if he made any hesitation she exhibited all about him, if he KNEW she'd been raped and decided it wasn't his problem, she should just "let it go" or "talk about it" a few times so we could all move on and get back to fulfilling "his needs," that man would be universally despised, women's rights groups would be as we say here in philly ALL UP IN HIS FACE, they'd make a popular TV movie about the miserable pig and the fictional TV heroine would with the empowerment and support of friends, loved ones, and a street-smart tough yet caring counselor, lift herself up and out and leave the SOB forever and be applauded for it.
I'm sure you can all see where this is going, right?
ANd i ask myself, great flaming balls of sewage (insert actual much stronger language), WTF was i thinking for 5 years during all this? Why didn't i realize she was an abuser too, just like everyone else i've let use guilt and shame and fear control me? How sick and angry am i when i can't get out of my head over and over again -
she knew i'd been abused as a child - and it wasn't her problem.
she knew sex would frequently make me sick, and ashamed, and scared - and DIDN'T CARE.
she knew that this sort of sudden intimate dysfunction had happened to me with every partner i've ever had - and it was all about her. She was too fat (meaning really, of course, i was a pig for not wanting to have sex with her because she's too fat) (she isn't even fat ffs! she ain't kate friggin moss but that's the last GD thing i cared about), i was having an affair, i made the mistake of telling her i was bisexual and then it was because i was having an affair with men (aargh!), etc etc so on and so forth.
Not once was it ever entertained that, as my loving wife and a nice human being who cared about me, her getting off when she wanted to might occasionally take a back seat to my friggin' trauma-induced flashbacks and feelings of lust/disgust and shame and self-loathing that stemmed from this cross-wiring.
I'm drained. There's more, of course, so much more, and i realize you all know that but there's so little trust in me, that nagvoice is going "they'll misunderstand, they won't get it, you have to write a GD autobiography so they'll understand you."
so.
all i want is for her to understand this: that in my long miserable cycle of abuse and seeking abusers to hold power over me, she was one too. it's okay. sh! happens. it's over now. we're moving on, and sadly we're probably going to move on seperately since there's been so much, too much, i think i pretty effectively killed any real love she might have felt for me anyway. but i want her to know and acknowlege this, and understand the truth of it. and it won't ever happen. she didn't believe me when we were together, why now when i've left and all the problems she has has ever had or will ever had are my fault?
if past precedent is any example, in a week or 2 at most it will be back to 'pretending this little incident never took place.' But when things just keep getting worse, i can't even trust that. i can't trust anything any more. Here's a situation that can't be run from, can't be abandoned, can't be left behind or ignored or forgotten.
All she wanted when i met her was a child, a daughter, all she thought or spoke or talked about, and i felt so worthwhile to give her one - look, see, i reproduced, i have a woman a baby, i gave you what you've wanted all your life, i'm a worthwhile man, love me! - and now i'm in a state of sheer terror 99% of the time. How does this situation end? How does this get better? How does this get fixed? How can i get to the mythical place when i don't feel like i've been punched in the stomach all day every day? How the HELL did i let things get here and how do i make it right?
so now what?
... lil help?
