Sunday, 03.25.2012 - 12:36 pm.
It seems I'm always on the verge of being terribly busy, but never am. I'm looking forward to several activities I've signed up for (I use that term vaguely, one of those activities would be writing my thesis). I have to: attend classes I'm taking with an australian professor, analyze data for my thesis, keep up with my blogs/webcomic, design my dad's new book cover (!) after reading it, and volunteer for the clown doctors, who never send me their schedule. I'm also thinking of signing up for a free virtual course on cognitive-behaviorist therapy...Free! Virtual! CBT! Why wouldn't I?
I've also been working on the book, story, whatever you may call it. I'm editing and shaping up ideas, although right now I'm not too thrilled and not at all satisfied. I hurt a lot because of Joseph thus I complained and talked like a victim a lot, daily. That's ok, that was my diary, my daily musings. I can't just do the same thing on a narrative so I'm deleting and rewriting some things. On his story, and Art's and JC's story. They're there, too, for the sake of continuity.
I'm worried the story may end up like a cheap, whiny, pity-party-of-one novel. Then I tell myself I don't have to worry, because it can be anything I want it to be and everything is up to me. I got stuck at some point and somedays I fear even to look at the words, but I just keep writing at least a bit everyday. I'll rewrite later whatever must be rewritten. I'm just paving the road, I'll come back and beautify it later.
But I say the pity party because I did that, I've done it, all these years since Joseph dumped me. Don't get me wrong, I do not enjoy being like that, but they're stronger than me, the invasive thoughts and the emotions attached to them. It's been particularly hard going back to the entries of early 2009, when -I didn't remember this- he was all cynicism and hostility towards me, and he'd call to reproach me for everything I did or didn't do, and to say harsh things like "you couldn't stand me penetrating you but a tattoo, you can stand". I could tell you everything that's wrong with that sentence, but I hope you can understand.
Also, I look back in horror at how I didn't stop all that, dare I call it, emotional abuse. Every day a new Joseph story in this diary, when he was still around, and it's clear now how I should've stopped it. Block him, delete him, hang up on him, don't add his wife to the contact list, just. stop. talking to him! I was humble and innocent, and I looked down to the floor, grateful for still having him around, not remotely thinking of the correct answers to give, nor realizing he was being an asshole to me.
And also, how I didn't speak. This is the hardest part. How he went on ranting about his wonderful girlfriend/wife without me being capable of shutting him up. He would be stupid enough to believe I was ok with it because I was stupid enough to try to act like it. It was my pride, I think, or my fear of going really crazy and having a meltdown in front of him. He'd accuse me of not telling him anything so he went on like nothing.
I think of this last thing because last night I got really pissed off at Andrew. We had friends over and I had plans to cook but he took over, and I felt I lost control of the situation. I got pissed off because this was the one dish I can cook and I'd said I'd do it and he took over it. I commented twice on things he was doing differently and he said he was trying to do something new. I felt he dismissed me, especially because he had this weird mood that comes out of nowhere, and so I just removed myself from the situation and went to the bedroom and left him cooking.
I acted like nothing with our friends around, hiding and trying to forget my anger. When they left, I was distant with him until this morning, when he asked if something was wrong. I'd been thinking of telling him without him asking, but I couldn't bring myself to it. Anyway, I said yes, something was wrong and he was surprised. I told him how he had taken over what I wanted to do, like this one day I was watching TV and he grabbed the remote to fix something but then he changed my program and started zapping (he noticed then, after a while, and apologized; I didn't see it at fist either and I wasn't so into what I was watching, so I kept quiet thinking how to tell him what he was doing but he realized it). I explained him in detail but that's basically how I felt.
Turns out he hadn't noticed, so he was surprised and thought he was doing the right thing, because he always cooks on weekends and I didn't say explicitly "I want to be in charge". And that pissed me off even more, because I tried to participate telling him how to do it but he wanted it his way and was all moody (he'd been having second thoughts about having friends over, and wanted a quiet night instead), that kind of mood in which I'd rather not talk to him. It pissed me off even more and yet I couldn't accuse him of much since it turned out we both had seen different things.
How is it always my fault? How is it that, in an emotionally harmful situation, I try to be mindful, understand the situation, react calmly and keep my cool...and I end up being the one who brought it upon herself? I'd been thinking about the Joseph fiasco and this thing that just happened with Andrew made me think of that. I always end up screwing up for not saying the right thing or not saying anything at all, I end up being a dumbass instead of deserving of a bit of sympathy for getting hurt, as I see myself.
This also brings me to the christmas message Joseph sent me last december, in which he wished me a happy life. I thought about it the whole Christmas Eve, and I finally replied with a similar good wish, though less heartfelt. Now I regret it. A part of me says it's ok I did that, it would have seemed out of place if I'd replied with hostility; after all, it was the holidays and it's been a long, long time. On the other hand, that's not how I feel. And I suppose that if then I'd remembered how badly he treated me after dumping me, I would have replied something very different, that ended with a definite "leave me alone".
Because that's how it's supposed to be. A part of me replied with a kind message thinking maybe one day we could be on speaking terms again. But I don't want that. I don't care. My hurting over him has been blown out of proportion to the point of PTSD, but I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to see him. He's a husband and a father, he'll always talk about that and I don't want to hear about it. I truly feel I'm left with a lot of things to say and discuss with him, and I fantasize about pouring my heart out. But I don't quite want that to happen and if it did, like I said, everything I've been haunted by all these years would turn out to be my fault.
This sucks. In conclusion: I try to do what seems right at the time but that blows in my face later. I'm so stupid and I don't know how to change that.
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