Cause I’m fucked up, because you are

I had an amazing weekend.  Despite this hitting a number of triggeringly trigger things and despite me crying naked on top of someone…

 

We’ll get to that.

 

On Friday I sat down in my counsellor’s office and said ‘I am a freak.  There is a man trying to get into a loving relationship with me, who tells me that I’m beautiful and whose jaw visibly dropped the first time we went on a date… and it fucking terrifies me and I have no idea how to process it’

 

It fucking upsets me.  What kind of messed up human being am I that can’t cope with being loved?  What does that say about me?  He tells me that he loves me and all I can feel is suspicion.  All I can think is ‘what do you want though?’  I look into his eyes and I don’t see that at all and yet it’s what my head can’t get round.  This roadblock of ‘we got completely used before’.

 

Speaking of which…  The gods are cruel and have a sense of humour…  ‘Let’s go to the pub’ ‘I’m not sure… EX and OTHER BINT go there’ ‘They haven’t been in ages, I asked around’
I went knowing full well that they would be there.  I could have been told that they had moved to the moon and known that they would show up.
They did.

 

The worst thing?  I was sat there and enjoying myself but I was on edge because I KNEW… and then I saw him and I felt fear.  Pure physical fear.  My hands started shaking.  He was never violent towards me, never abusive and never giving me any reason to be SCARED of the bastard… and yet there we were.

 

I’ve been trying to think about it a lot and the only explanation I can think of is that it’s the fear of being hurt again.  The fear of looking into the eyes of someone that I had loved so fucking utterly and completely for seven years and seeing nothing there.  I don’t love him anymore, I have no feelings anymore… except fear apparently.

 

So then I’m sat there, feeling this physical fear and being appalled with myself for it.  How can they instill that in me?  Why the hell am I shaking?  This is bullshit.

 

He looked in my direction, did this half hearted completely fake smile and then disappeared upstairs with her.

 

So we left the pub and walked back while he wished he’d thrown one of the wooden tables at them and I wished that I hadn’t had some horrendous fear reaction I couldn’t understand.

 

I have had the best sex I’ve ever had in my life this weekend… and I’ve also cried on the guy while I was having some of it because of the emotional release.

 

I’ve felt so lonely, so incredibly fucking lonely.  I wanted to die so badly.  The feeling of being unwanted and alone was like a rusty, blunt knife that would carve into me and make me lie on my hall floor crying weakly.  It just backed up the idea that I wasn’t good enough, I was never going to be good enough.  My love wasn’t good enough.
Then this guy comes… and he’s just as damaged as me.  It’s like someone zapped in the male version of me from some other reality.  The issue is we both sit there quietly assuming the worst about the other because of past experience.  He is scared that I’m just using him and I’m scared he’s just using me.  But he tells me that he loves me and I can’t reply back.  I know that I do… but that’s ridiculous (the voice says), I haven’t known him that long so I can’t possibly be in love with him.  He’s just saying it to me (the voice says) because he knows that it will sucker me in.

 

Meanwhile I’m tearing myself up because I can’t say it back.  I physically can’t do it because to me, admitting that I love him is giving him the green flag to go ahead and use me….

 

Which is the fucking sadest, most pitiful thing I ever hope to type.

 

Part of me is so fucking terrified that he’s going to leave and I’m going to be on my own again and I just can’t even cope with the idea.  I can’t cope with the idea of having this and then it disappearing.  I feel like that would be it and there’s no way in the world a relationship can survive under that pressure.  I don’t want to cling but I feel like this is the only fucking glimpse of any light that I’ve seen in the darkness for such a long time.

 

I am so goddamn broken.

Helping/not helping

So less than a week ago I woke up screaming because I’d had some kind of night terror.  I didn’t remember the dream, just the fear and then had that lingering ache all day.  Last night… no I remember the dream and I got woken up screaming again.

 

I know that this is my brain’s way of trying to process a lifetime’s worth of shit but I could do without twice in one week.

 

I know why it’s happening… I’m trying to make sense of my behaviour now by looking at what happened in the past.  So my brain is trying to be helpful and say ‘here you go, we’ll work on it all night for extra credit!  YAY!’ and then I’m having a dream about my ex, the person I thought I was a friend and trying to confront them in a pub full of a mixture of friends and colleagues.

 

Oh and picking the day that I have a job interview so I’ve had no sleep and I’m currently ill.  Extra points for that…

 

In a way I knew what I was in for in the dream.  I was the one who chose to be confrontational rather than sticking to what I’ve been doing in real life and avoiding the pair of them like the plague… not an easy feat when we have so many mutual friends its ridiculous.  I’ve managed though, it’s been nearly a year since I’ve had to see them.

 

In the dream I felt so confident and defiant and then it all just crumbled away when I got faced with an utter lack of remorse and amusement at me even thinking that’s what I’d get.  It finished with what I guess was a death blow in terms of emotional feelings… I should have just glassed the fucker.  We were in a pub in the dream.

 

In reality I know they’re a pair of cowards.  Unfortunately they’re cowards that can’t cope with not being the victim.  The only thing I have with him is that I was such a supportive and caring doormat he didn’t really have much ammo against me or at least that’s what I’ve been told by our millions of mutual friends… back when I asked.

 

My counselor says that I’m allowed to not be 100% ‘over it’ even though mutual friends have told me I should be by now.  Well maybe if I’d been told the truth from the off I’d have been able to process it rather than getting it in installments from people when they’d get pissed at parties and decide to tell me how much they knew was going on.

 

I’m tired and I don’t want to be ill and in a bad mood.  I am going to watch cartoons.