So alone, and frustrated and sick of everything. I went to the chatroom, in desperation. One person said that I need to get help if I’m suicidal. I thought that was why I was here. But, she said t call 911, and say I’m suicidal, if I can’t think of anything else. I said, "hell no." I’m not going back to a state hospital. It’s like you’re in hell, and then they put you in an even worse place. I have insurance, but I don’t think anything that would cover a stay anywhere decent (psych coverage isn’t the same as medical coverage). And, someone writes me a comment saying that I’m not being patient with Charlie. Do you know how nuts that makes me? DO YOU KNOW FREAKING PATIENT I HAVE BEEN FOR YEARS? YEARS OF MY HUSBAND NOT TOUCHING ME, AND BEING UNWILLING TO GET ANY HELP FOR THE ISSUE, EVEN THOUGH HE KNEW IT WAS RIPPING MY HEART OUT AND MAKING ME FEEL UNGODLY UGLY, AND FAT, AND AWFUL… I have been freaking pateint, God damn it. And, I have put in my fucking time. His life, all and all, is a lot better than it was when we got together. Being with him has cost me EVERYTHING, and I never complained, because that was my choice, but he has promised me better things, every step of the way, and never fucking delivered. He’ll show more affection. He’ll clean up. He’ll be strong. He’ll take care of things. He’ll pay back all the money of mine that got blown on drugs. He’ll get me back into school. He breaks promises like other people say hello and goodbye. And, he knew how sick I was getting. He knew it. He said so once he called me out on the thing with Quinn. He just didn’t want to say anything until some of my symptoms had affected him directly. Then, suddenly, it was out of control. He knew I was sick, and getting worse, and that the more I got high with him, the worse I would get. He knew all of that, and he let it happen, because he didn’t want to give up the fucked up little life he knows how to live. I wanted to help him, when we got together, but I was willing to follow him down, if I couldn’t help him up, and he knew that. I told him if he was high around me, he had to share. He tried to kick, and couldn’t. So… unwilling to give me up… he shared. And, all this time later, guess what? We’re not normal. I’m not normal. He never gave me a normal life, or a normal marriage, or a normal freaking husband. How can I be expected to live up to normal fucking expectations? I love Charlie, but he has broken my heart more times than I can freaking count. And, he knows that the hypersexuality and impulsiveness are symptoms of an illness he turned a blind eye to (I’m still begging him to straighten things out with the insurance, so I can get my meds). I write one freaking blog where I say that I think I deserve some forgiveness and consideration…. one moment, of one day… where I think he owes me something more, for the seven years I’ve given him, than this unforgiving distance…
He knows what to expect of me. He knows, because I’m doing it. I’m not seeing Quinn. I’m not doing anything. I’m just being good to him, respecting the ridiculous distance he keeps from me (he admits he loves me, but he won’t say it when he leaves the house), and trying like hell to get along with him, and have a good time with him, even though I want to rip my fucking skin off because I can’t stand how alone I feel.
My sickness is not the only one that jepardized this marriage. I begged him, years ago, not to push me away. I told him, if he stopped reaching for me altogether, something would eventually go really bad. "If intimacy leaves, it usually goes somewhere else," I told him. It was really hard to say that, but I knew it was true. But, it didn’t matter. Charlie has a way of recognizing problems, promising to fix them, then putting the matter out of his mind. His depression and addiction are as much a problem as I am. Like, last night… we would have made it if hadn’t baited me. He knew what he was doing. Believe me…. he knew. He wanted to break, but he didn’t want to be responsible, so he waited for any sign of weakness from me, then pounced when he saw me in pain. Very few addicts in pain can turn down their drug of choice during withdrawal, when offered, but he knew if he stayed quiet, I would’ve been okay. I love the guy, but he is no freaking saint. So many times… he’s hurt me… humiliated me… made me feel like, "how can I forgive this? I don’t know how to forgive this." But, I loved him too much not to. Maybe, it’s just not like that, for him. I don’t know. I do know that it hurts like hell to be lectured the first time I start feeling like maybe I deserve a litle comfort and love. This guy says, "If you truly love him," if, how do you like that? "If…" I think it should be obvious by now… "you will allow him the space to recover without your needs personally feeling fulfilled. You can be there without any demands on him, and allow him the time he needs to get over the duplicitous feelings he has." What? Okay… I HAVE BEEN PATIENT. I HAVE BEEN NOTHING BUT PATIENT, WHEN EVERYTHING IN ME IS SCREAMING FOR SOME LOVE, COMFORT, AND UNDERSTANDING… when everything in my nature tells me to hash this out, and talk to him… I keep doing this peaceful, quiet, co-existence that he seems to want, right now. I’ve given him everything he’s fucking wanted since this went down and I’ve given up a lot. How long am I supposed to disregard my needs completely? Like I don’t matter, because I hurt him? Like, all the times he’s hurt me mean nothing… I was already in a pretty shitty place today, and now, I just feel like finding a quiet place to die. I have no hope. I am so alone. No one hears me, and no one understands what I’ve actually been dealing with. It’s like I’m the selfish monster, and he’s the hapless victim. Oh, and I’m also still somehow supposedly screwing up by contiuing to care about Quinn,even though I don’t see him or talk to him. This guy thinks I’m messing it up between me and Charlie just because I don’t blame Quinn for what happened, and I still regard him warmly, and miss him, a lot. What good would it do to feel negatively about Quinn? Maybe, he did take advantage of the situation. i don’t know. I don’t know what he’s thinking, because like Charlie, he’s not talking to me about anything.
Normally, I’m Charlie’s defender. Because, he’s a good man, and I love him, but I’m a good person too, God damn it, and he’s done his share of the damage. Withholding affection and intimacy is part of what started his marriage on this coarse, and if he can’t overcome that, and figure out what he wants quickly enough to hold onto it, he could wind up losing it, because I am 28 years old, and I will not wait forever to be loved and touched the way I deserve. I don’t know how long I can wait. I’ve been trying, but I am not the fucking villain here, and it’s easy for someone else to say: You can be there for him without expecting him to meet any of your needs. I’ve been doing that, and IT’S NOT SOMETHING YOU CAN SUSTAIN FOR ALL THAT LONG. Sooner or later, you start to go crazy. I want to be with him, more than anything, and I feel like I’m doing everything I freaking can towards that end. I am entitled to feeling abandoned and in pain, right now. There are so many issues here, and he doesn’t want to talk about any of it. So, I coast along, and I’ll keep doing that, as long as I can, but I feel broken down, and very sick of it all.