It's 3:30 and I am still blogging. I just left her in bed. She senses a change in me that I am unable to hide. Perhaps I don't want to hide it. I don't know. She pokes at me and tries to pry out my the meaning of my attitude towards her. I tell her I need my space right now. She complains that she has nowhere to go. That she could go to her mother's apartment. I tell her that I only need the space immediately around me, not the entire apartment.
I am again sucked into her unreal world of black and white, me verses you and on and on and on. I tell her that I want her to put aside all distressing thoughts about what happened the other night, about the state of our relationship and so forth. I tell her that she should stay in bed and get well. I tell her that I plan to keep blogging and afterwards sit in the living room listening to music on my $2000 stereo. I tell her to relax and that we can revisit relationship issues later.
She responds that she is well now and only being lazy by sitting in bed watching television. This is bullshit, of course. Just and hour ago she came out and after her 1:30 telephone appointment with her doctor who informed her that her recent bowel distress was not due to the cold but from "something else." The implication was that it is serious and that I should be careful to not catch it and I should be worried about her. I told her to return to bed at that time and get better and she did. But what's the reality here? Is she sick or not? Why all the drama?
Just a minute ago she left a handwritten letter to me on my desk where I am blogging this. I am loathe to open and read it right now. I'll wait.
Just now she came out in tears. I'm back in the living room blogging this. She's jumping to wild conclusions about the fallout from the previous night. She making all sorts of wild assumptions. I tell her that I just need my space. She cries and tells me that she thinks I am going to leave her. I am appalled. I tell her that I have not made any decisions, that I have not made any rash decisions, that I have not decided what to do. All I want to do is to write in my diary. All I need is my space.
From across the room she wails that I am not showing her anything to the contrary. She reminds me that she has been through thick and thin with me and that should count for something. That should be reason to not cast her out. She reminds me that she has also weathered my manic fits and that I should weather hers. She admits that I have never been cruel but this should not make a difference. I get up to give her a hug. I am not particularly warm, I guess, although I hug her tightly. I know what the problem is. I do not tell her that I love her.
She cries and leaves me and returns to the bedroom. I sense the barely controlled anger she had during her outburst in the kitchen. She was certainly full of fear and sadness and desperation. And crying. But underneath it all was an anger I have come to realize that lies at the core of her being. I am waiting for the other shoe to drop. I guess it's just a matter of time before she comes roaring out of the bedroom, screaming at me, hurling invective at me, and bails out the front door to go...where? To her mother's apartment, I guess.
OK, I'm going to read the letter now...
"If the jury is still out may I call a witness on my behalf? Please talk to my daughter before you make a decision."
Oh dear God.
If self-pity had a name it would be hers. I cannot tolerate this shit. Am I insensitive? I have always been so full of self-doubt these past five years. It has become a habit. Something is said or done that makes me question myself and my judgement. I always concede the point, doubting that my thoughts and feelings on the matter at hand are as worthy as those of the person pointing them out.
I cannot deny that I am terribly hurt by what happened the other night, when she had her shit fit and spewed the most hateful and vitriolic abuse upon me that I have ever experienced in my life. I hurt. I want to be left alone to nurse my wounds. I need to gain perspective. I need to regain my place in the universe.
I do feel sorry for her. It pains me to see what distress I cause in her. The behaviors that have been drummed into me over the last five years scream to express themselves. I am actively resisting these impulses and it's not easy. I am determined to maintain my new self-awareness and not concede defeat. But there's that horrible nagging doubt.
Bertrand Russell said that it's a pity that the world is full of so many people that are so sure they know the answer and so few that doubt it. I think he was railing against the smug self-assured mob. I am afraid to become part of that group that is so convinced of being right. I would rather be someone that questions the validity of decisions and truths that we consider self-evident. But it's not easy.
One thing is sure however. It became clear to me while I was talking to her from across the room just now. I was loathing her but heard myself saying nevertheless that I have not made any rash decisions. I admitted to being hurt and confused by what happened between us the other night. These things are true--more or less. I am now convinced that I must unshackle myself from her clinging and poisonous grip. I have outgrown her. I need to move on.
I need to work out the specifics of how I will achieve this. I don't intend to simply "cast her out" as she accuses me of planning. There are two concrete actions I have in mind, however. First, I will wait until around March of next year. That is when I will receive my tax refund which I expect to be very healthy. I will then pay off her $18,000 of credit debt, of which a lot (but not all!) has been made to help finance our apartment. At that point I will no longer be in debt to her financially. Second, I will surreptitiously have her name removed from the lease. That will remove any legal claim she has on the apartment. At that point I will have severed all materiel ties she has to me.
Severing the emotional ties will present difficulties, however. I guess that in myself I already have severed my emotional tie to her. I'm just trying (not very successfully) to not show it. So I will need to back off from my anger and restore a state of decorum in our life. I'm not sure how to proceed thereafter. Perhaps I can slowly bring about peaceful circumstances under which she herself wants to leave. That's going to be tricky.
Is it cowardice? Should I simply "cast her out" as she accuses me of planning? No. That would be cruel. Should I simply sit her down and tell her that I cannot continue to live with her? That would explode very quickly in my face. Let's face it--there is no graceful way to quickly end this horrendous relationship. I think that a gradual withdrawal is probably the best course of action.
Not a pleasant thing to look forward to.
I am again sucked into her unreal world of black and white, me verses you and on and on and on. I tell her that I want her to put aside all distressing thoughts about what happened the other night, about the state of our relationship and so forth. I tell her that she should stay in bed and get well. I tell her that I plan to keep blogging and afterwards sit in the living room listening to music on my $2000 stereo. I tell her to relax and that we can revisit relationship issues later.
She responds that she is well now and only being lazy by sitting in bed watching television. This is bullshit, of course. Just and hour ago she came out and after her 1:30 telephone appointment with her doctor who informed her that her recent bowel distress was not due to the cold but from "something else." The implication was that it is serious and that I should be careful to not catch it and I should be worried about her. I told her to return to bed at that time and get better and she did. But what's the reality here? Is she sick or not? Why all the drama?
Just a minute ago she left a handwritten letter to me on my desk where I am blogging this. I am loathe to open and read it right now. I'll wait.
Just now she came out in tears. I'm back in the living room blogging this. She's jumping to wild conclusions about the fallout from the previous night. She making all sorts of wild assumptions. I tell her that I just need my space. She cries and tells me that she thinks I am going to leave her. I am appalled. I tell her that I have not made any decisions, that I have not made any rash decisions, that I have not decided what to do. All I want to do is to write in my diary. All I need is my space.
From across the room she wails that I am not showing her anything to the contrary. She reminds me that she has been through thick and thin with me and that should count for something. That should be reason to not cast her out. She reminds me that she has also weathered my manic fits and that I should weather hers. She admits that I have never been cruel but this should not make a difference. I get up to give her a hug. I am not particularly warm, I guess, although I hug her tightly. I know what the problem is. I do not tell her that I love her.
She cries and leaves me and returns to the bedroom. I sense the barely controlled anger she had during her outburst in the kitchen. She was certainly full of fear and sadness and desperation. And crying. But underneath it all was an anger I have come to realize that lies at the core of her being. I am waiting for the other shoe to drop. I guess it's just a matter of time before she comes roaring out of the bedroom, screaming at me, hurling invective at me, and bails out the front door to go...where? To her mother's apartment, I guess.
OK, I'm going to read the letter now...
"If the jury is still out may I call a witness on my behalf? Please talk to my daughter before you make a decision."
Oh dear God.
If self-pity had a name it would be hers. I cannot tolerate this shit. Am I insensitive? I have always been so full of self-doubt these past five years. It has become a habit. Something is said or done that makes me question myself and my judgement. I always concede the point, doubting that my thoughts and feelings on the matter at hand are as worthy as those of the person pointing them out.
I cannot deny that I am terribly hurt by what happened the other night, when she had her shit fit and spewed the most hateful and vitriolic abuse upon me that I have ever experienced in my life. I hurt. I want to be left alone to nurse my wounds. I need to gain perspective. I need to regain my place in the universe.
I do feel sorry for her. It pains me to see what distress I cause in her. The behaviors that have been drummed into me over the last five years scream to express themselves. I am actively resisting these impulses and it's not easy. I am determined to maintain my new self-awareness and not concede defeat. But there's that horrible nagging doubt.
Bertrand Russell said that it's a pity that the world is full of so many people that are so sure they know the answer and so few that doubt it. I think he was railing against the smug self-assured mob. I am afraid to become part of that group that is so convinced of being right. I would rather be someone that questions the validity of decisions and truths that we consider self-evident. But it's not easy.
One thing is sure however. It became clear to me while I was talking to her from across the room just now. I was loathing her but heard myself saying nevertheless that I have not made any rash decisions. I admitted to being hurt and confused by what happened between us the other night. These things are true--more or less. I am now convinced that I must unshackle myself from her clinging and poisonous grip. I have outgrown her. I need to move on.
I need to work out the specifics of how I will achieve this. I don't intend to simply "cast her out" as she accuses me of planning. There are two concrete actions I have in mind, however. First, I will wait until around March of next year. That is when I will receive my tax refund which I expect to be very healthy. I will then pay off her $18,000 of credit debt, of which a lot (but not all!) has been made to help finance our apartment. At that point I will no longer be in debt to her financially. Second, I will surreptitiously have her name removed from the lease. That will remove any legal claim she has on the apartment. At that point I will have severed all materiel ties she has to me.
Severing the emotional ties will present difficulties, however. I guess that in myself I already have severed my emotional tie to her. I'm just trying (not very successfully) to not show it. So I will need to back off from my anger and restore a state of decorum in our life. I'm not sure how to proceed thereafter. Perhaps I can slowly bring about peaceful circumstances under which she herself wants to leave. That's going to be tricky.
Is it cowardice? Should I simply "cast her out" as she accuses me of planning? No. That would be cruel. Should I simply sit her down and tell her that I cannot continue to live with her? That would explode very quickly in my face. Let's face it--there is no graceful way to quickly end this horrendous relationship. I think that a gradual withdrawal is probably the best course of action.
Not a pleasant thing to look forward to.
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