Monday June 1st
I do have some anger, but mostly I feel sad. I'm scared about what lies ahead. He's a different person, and he has gone down a really dark hole and cannot see clearly, it's starkly clear. I've been in those holes, but the question is, is there anything left? Will he see that the similarities of what Joanna and what I have found with him, what we have said is a pattern he brings to the table, a consequence of his actions, or will he continue to hide? Will he see the true love that's underneath all this from me, or deny its existence because of his pride, his pain, his anger? Will he see that I've loved him without stability, promise, through betrayals of the worst kind, through helping his try to restore his marriage, through the pain of leaving and more? That I really wanted him, even when there was no benefit to do so?
Tonight, I'm not in the wrong. I was myself, I was stoic in that I was keeping myself from anger, but acknowledging that I was not happy, or carefree. I even told him that I felt stoic. I told him that the last events have left me scarred, that I'm dealing with the consequences. I didn't mention Lydia, but that element is there. I had talked about her to a work mate and it brings back that stuff that I fight so hard to keep down.
I was holding onto myself, waiting for him to talk, he would start sentences, and then not finish them, refusing to talk about himself. I answered his questions clearly, and concisely. I feel like now that his silences weren't what I thought, thinking, rather a passive way to tell me he wouldn't answer and that he wanted me to talk. I told him I felt rejected about band camp. I told him the truth about how I found the texts and that I read them. I was trying to come out of it, walking helped. I just wanted to be, but I let him bring up talking. I am so frustrated that he keeps making about what's wrong with me. That I deserved to be cut out of the California trip because I was dark and moody. He's upset that I read the texts, but has maintained for the last year that I could see them at any time, look at his phone anytime. I'm guessing he feels, however wrong I feel it is, betrayed by it because he doesn't remember the facts, that this was something that I was supposed to already have access to, nothing new.
I feel like what I'm asking, what I need to feel sane and a degree of change and safety, that he feels it's too much, that he won't see past his anger, past his own pain, past his shame and guilt. But it's taken over 15 years to learn, but I need to start to create and stand up for an environment where I'm not denied the basics, respect, communication, safety, acknowledgement. The hard part is that he tries. He tries to do the obligations, even open up with a couple of those looks I hadn't seen in ages. But it stops there, it stops short of really making that change, really opening up.
I want him. I want his playfulness. I want his passion for what he loves. I want his love for his children. I want his creativity, his intelligence, his generosity, and his pride and his humility. I want his willingness to be challenged, his desire to grow and love. I want his sexuality. I want his exploration. I want my head on his stomach. I even want his battle with insecurity because it reminds me of my battles and that everyone has them.
I have PTSD. the complex kind. I am depressed. Happiness, laughter, joy, they might be on the outside, but they never seem to reach the inside. I have a child who suffers because of the abuse of her father, and the effects of it on her mother. I have a lot of anger, anxiety, and grief. I cry almost everyday. Sometimes it's hard to even walk.
But I still try, I still fight for him because I love him and most times, that possibility of who we can be if he can somehow fight his demons as I am fighting mine. I can't force him, but I can't go on while he lives under their power, just like he can't if I live under the power of mine.
Tonight, I'm not in the wrong. I was myself, I was stoic in that I was keeping myself from anger, but acknowledging that I was not happy, or carefree. I even told him that I felt stoic. I told him that the last events have left me scarred, that I'm dealing with the consequences. I didn't mention Lydia, but that element is there. I had talked about her to a work mate and it brings back that stuff that I fight so hard to keep down.
I was holding onto myself, waiting for him to talk, he would start sentences, and then not finish them, refusing to talk about himself. I answered his questions clearly, and concisely. I feel like now that his silences weren't what I thought, thinking, rather a passive way to tell me he wouldn't answer and that he wanted me to talk. I told him I felt rejected about band camp. I told him the truth about how I found the texts and that I read them. I was trying to come out of it, walking helped. I just wanted to be, but I let him bring up talking. I am so frustrated that he keeps making about what's wrong with me. That I deserved to be cut out of the California trip because I was dark and moody. He's upset that I read the texts, but has maintained for the last year that I could see them at any time, look at his phone anytime. I'm guessing he feels, however wrong I feel it is, betrayed by it because he doesn't remember the facts, that this was something that I was supposed to already have access to, nothing new.
I feel like what I'm asking, what I need to feel sane and a degree of change and safety, that he feels it's too much, that he won't see past his anger, past his own pain, past his shame and guilt. But it's taken over 15 years to learn, but I need to start to create and stand up for an environment where I'm not denied the basics, respect, communication, safety, acknowledgement. The hard part is that he tries. He tries to do the obligations, even open up with a couple of those looks I hadn't seen in ages. But it stops there, it stops short of really making that change, really opening up.
I want him. I want his playfulness. I want his passion for what he loves. I want his love for his children. I want his creativity, his intelligence, his generosity, and his pride and his humility. I want his willingness to be challenged, his desire to grow and love. I want his sexuality. I want his exploration. I want my head on his stomach. I even want his battle with insecurity because it reminds me of my battles and that everyone has them.
I have PTSD. the complex kind. I am depressed. Happiness, laughter, joy, they might be on the outside, but they never seem to reach the inside. I have a child who suffers because of the abuse of her father, and the effects of it on her mother. I have a lot of anger, anxiety, and grief. I cry almost everyday. Sometimes it's hard to even walk.
But I still try, I still fight for him because I love him and most times, that possibility of who we can be if he can somehow fight his demons as I am fighting mine. I can't force him, but I can't go on while he lives under their power, just like he can't if I live under the power of mine.
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