This blog often contains uncomfortable subject matter and occasional sexual content. If you don't want to read about it, empower yourself to close the page. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Losing patience So in my last entry, I said BK would be home later that night. Surprise, surprise. After sending him two texts and calling twice, he answered the phone to tell me that he was too drunk to drive home and that he was going to stay with his friend. Keep in mind that he had driven my car to work that day, and then to the bar to play his show. And this is only a few days after he confessed to driving it a few blocks home drunk, and I told him that if he does that again I'm taking the car away. So why, then, did he think drinking at his show would be a good idea?! I'm fucking sick of this. He says he's tired of his bandmates acting like rockstars, so why does he drink at every show he plays? He says he's tired of his bandmates acting like little kids, that he's ready to live an adult life with a job and responsibilities. So why would he do something so irresponsible? Probably because I keep letting him off the hook. What am I supposed to do?! When I tell him I'm mad, when I put my foot down, he acts like I'm crazy, calls me things like "emotional child" and accuses me of "punishing" him for stuff that my family did in my past. Every time something like this happens, I'm one step closer to kicking him out. Sometimes I kind of hope he finally screws up enough for me to really leave him. For now, I'm waiting it out. I'm going to let him know when he gets off work this evening that I'm losing my patience. Fuck, who am I kidding, no I'm not. I'm such a fucking pussy, I hate myself. 2:12 p.m. - 2010-10-10 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- No life Oh my god, I am so bored. BK had to work all day. He works out of town, and his band is playing in the same city that he works in. So he stayed there after work to wait for his band to arrive for the show. He won't be back until later tonight. I have had zero human interaction since 9:15 this morning, and it's starting to get to me. I need friends. I don't reach out to people. It's really difficult for me to do. I've become comfortable enough around my two neighbors across the hall to at least sit outside and talk to them while they smoke. But it's hard to do when BK's not around. He's my ice breaker. He fills in the gaps when I don't know what to say. The other night, they had a party. Someone brought weed and we shared a joint. I took one hit, and I guess it was nug because it fucked me up. I was extra nervous, and my OCD went haywire. I sat there obsessing over what not to do, not to say. I'd ask myself, have I been clearing my throat over and over? Was I talking out loud to myself a minute ago? Have I been blinking my eyes weird, or making weird faces? Have I been staring off into space for a really long time? My eyes kept darting around the room to check if anyone was looking at me funny. I couldn't remember if I'd done something weird. I had to go home early because I couldn't handle it. I hate living like this. I don't have anyone to talk to except BK, and my therapist once every two weeks. I almost never go out, and when I do, it's to take a walk by myself. I never do anything fun. I just sit around and watch the same DVDs over and over, read the same books. Every once in a while I can get away with knitting or crocheting, or playing video games, but after about a week of that, my wrists hurt too bad to continue. I have no life, and I don't know how to go about getting one, where to start. 7:40 p.m. - 2010-10-09 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Pain and sympathy I realized something about myself... When I have some sort of physical malady, either an illness or an injury, I talk about it constantly. I complain about having a sore throat or headache. I show people the bruise I got when I ran into the coffee table, or the scab from when I burned my hand getting pizza out of the oven. I talk about my wrist tendonitis a lot. I like the attention, and I love the sympathy. I think this is because when I was a kid, physical pain was the only pain that was really validated. If I cried because of hurt feelings, I was told to stop crying, or told, "Crying won't help." I was told to stop feeling sorry for myself. But if I had a scrape, cut, burn, bug bite, you name it, it was okay to hurt. Adults would accept that it hurt, instead of trying to talk me out of it. When you get a cut, nobody tries to tell you that it shouldn't hurt. It was the only way I could get sympathy, so I'd play up the injury to be a bigger deal than it actually was. Still do, actually. I have a burn on my hand and I've been fighting the urge to tell anyone and everyone about it. I realize that absolutely nobody is that concerned with my burn, but I have told several coworkers and family members about it, as well as my neighbor. This is probably why I started hurting myself. I remember picking scabs when I was a kid. I even remember picking off the same mole on my arm a few times, and rolling up my sleeve to display it when it was bleeding. I remember acting all cool once to the school bus driver in first grade. "No, it's okay, I don't need a band-aid." I did it for attention, for the sympathy that I wasn't getting for my emotional pain. When I started cutting in middle school, I hid it from people, but I sometimes had a mentality of "I'll show them!" when I hurt myself. As in, "Here, the pain is visible now." I wonder if this isn't why I started picking my face, too? Probably not, though... I think that had more to do with shame than a need for sympathy. It was a way for me to "remove" my flaws (blemishes) or at least feel that I had some control over them ("Whatever, I put these marks here!"). Anyway, just something to think about. 10:10 p.m. - 2010-10-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Unsatisfied I've felt depressed lately. Yeah, I'm unsatisfied in my relationship with BK, but there's more to it. I just feel like I don't have anything to look forward to. I know, I know, I'm supposed to "live in the now," not in the future or the past. But now sucks. And I don't have a lot of hope for later, either. I just can't imagine ever being well adjusted. The concept of friendship, of having my own self separate from whoever I happen to be dating at the time, of confidence... It all seems so foreign to me. I have such a hard time letting people in, and then when I finally do, I change the way I act to avoid losing them. I still base my self worth largely on how much other people like me or approve of me. I'm at least able to see some redeeming qualities in myself nowadays, but I feel like they "don't count" if other people don't value those same qualities. I can't imagine a future in which I have real friends, people who know me, instead of shallow acquaintances. I can't imagine being myself around anyone, ever. This includes my family and BK. I feel like no matter where I go or who I meet, I will always have to play chameleon around everyone. I'm this way with this person, and that way with that person, because that's the way they need me to be. I can't imagine being in a fulfilling relationship, and I guess that's why I'm still with BK, because it's the closest I've ever come. But I'm not happy. It's not safe to be myself. When I cry, he wants to tell me to stop, that there is no reason to cry, that I'm overreacting, that it's "counterproductive" and I'm an "emotional child". He usually holds this in because we've had so many talks about how I have a right to my emotions. But he's said all of those things before, and I do not doubt that he meant all of it. My reality is not valid. Only his reality is real, even when he's wrong. If I disagree with or dispute anything he says, I'm dismissed. He reads. Everything that BK reads is 100% true, obviously. If I tell him I've read something on the subject too, he's quick to dismiss it. Either he's read more (because he apparently has the ability to know exactly how much I've read?) or my source is not valid. It's insane. He accuses everyone else in the world of falling prey to the Dunning Kruger effect, which is when incompetent people believe that they are competent. They often believe they're more competent than their peers, who in reality are performing at a higher level. In his eyes, everyone else is screwing up but still thinking they're amazing. Can't he see that he's the same way? Am I using the term "ironic" correctly when I use it to describe his situation? He accuses his bandmates of being incompetent. He'll say things like, "When we practice to a metronome, I'm not the one who gets off-tempo. I'm not the one who messes up." I've heard him mess up before, but if I told him that, he'd tell me that I couldn't possibly detect a mistake because I don't play drums, and I have never been to recording school. If I assume anything ever, all hell breaks loose because I have made the horrible mistake of jumping to a conclusion before my suspicions have been confirmed. When he assumes something about me, he lets himself off the hook. I'll tell him he's mistaken, I didn't say "You think ____ about me," I was asking "Do you think ____ about me?" He will say he's just "reading between the lines" (a phrase that he doesn't let me get away with). His assumptions are based on fact, based on his own observation of my behavior in previous, similar situations. If I tell him it's a "logical fallacy" (to use his favorite term) to assume that I will do the same thing this time that I did last time, he pats me on the head, tells me I'm not using that phrase correctly, and explains that it is totally logical to always expect me to act the same way I've acted in the past (never mind all his "live in the now" crap that he's always preaching). But if I say that I assumed he would react a certain way based on the last time I brought something up, he tells me that it's a logical fallacy. He can't lose. He can't be wrong. He can't be vulnerable, and he can't admit to his feelings. He needs to stay in the winner's circle, so he can't help one-upping me. He needs to keep thinking that I'm over-reactive, irrational, overemotional. He acts like I'm controlling when I anxiously ask him to set an alarm or do something now before he forgets, but who's really controlling who? If I am not allowed to be right, not allowed to protest or disagree or have my own opinions, not allowed to experience things through my eyes instead of through his perspective, who's really got the power in this relationship? 5:27 p.m. - 2010-10-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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