So, #2 decided on Friday to be his usual, horrible, terrible, very awful self, and tried to insult me into submission. He said some really rotten stuff about me and my older son, called me all the bad names. He knows all of my triggers, he knows just where to hit to hurt the most, and he seemed pretty hellbent on causing me to have a PTSD episode. I got the distinct feeling that he was pushing me to suicidal thoughts. Well, trying to push me in that direction, anyway. He’s always done this as a method of control. When you let someone in the way I let him in, when you show them all your weaknesses, all your buttons, all your triggers, you give them power over you. I trusted him not to use me as a weapon against myself, but that’s exactly what he did.
I could make all kinds of excuses. Oh, he has PTSD, too, because he was in the military, in Bosnia. If that’s a thing you can actually believe. I’m not so sure I do anymore. I’m not so sure I believe anything at all that I thought I knew about him. Oh, he has depression, too, and low self-esteem. Oh, he’s so this or that.
No. No more. No more excuses, no more bullshit. He’s just not a decent human being. The end. He’s entitled and spoiled and cocky. He’s self-righteous and cruel. Vicious and hateful. Racist and bigoted. Just not a good person. There’s not really any arguing it anymore.
I’ve realized that there’s this thing I do when I love someone. I overlook flaws. Now, that’s not always a bad thing because I think everyone has flaws and some of them are mild and endearing and bearable. But when the flaws involve the destruction of another person, there’s just no overlooking them. And that’s what his flaws were all about. Destroying anyone and everyone who he perceived as in his way. There’s no intelligent discussion with him, no rational debate, no finding common ground. There is only what he thinks and believes and you are wrong. Oh, sure, if you present him with evidence, he’ll say he didn’t know and that he was wrong, but it doesn’t actually change his perception or his opinion. He’ll say he was wrong just so you shut up and stop pointing out that he was wrong.
He has said the most awful, hateful things to me, called me the worst things he could think of. I never did that to him. There were so many things, so many flaws, that I just accepted. Shoved them to the back of my mind, glossed over them with better, happier thoughts, and pretended they didn’t exist. For years, I chose to ignore warning signs and red flags left and right. I told myself that being in a relationship means compromise and concession and accepting the bad with the good. But that’s not exactly true, and certainly not when the bad far outweighs the good. He was abusive. I never wanted to see that, never wanted to admit to myself or anyone else that he was almost exactly like my boys’ dad in many ways. He was just better at it, better at fooling me into believing that I was overreacting. At one point, years ago, I remember talking to a friend and telling her, “He doesn’t hit me,” and she blew up at me, as if not getting hit meant that I wasn’t being abused and neglected.
There were so many hateful thoughts in my head, so many things I could have said to harm him. I didn’t. Not ever.
Like, maybe his first wife had an affair with his best friend and left him because he treated her exactly like he treated me.
Maybe he didn’t have many friends because he’s an insufferable asshole.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
And maybe none of it matters anymore.
He deleted any picture he had on Facebook that had me in it. I was really upset about that. That’s not how I function. I don’t try to erase my history, my life story. Every photo I’ve uploaded to Facebook since I joined in 2008 is still there. All. Of. Them. I never went back through the hundreds and hundreds of pictures to try to weed out any image of any ex or any former friends. Why? That’s my life right there. Those are my memories for when my actual memories fail me. I would never try to erase a human being from my history, from my life. But he erased me. I asked him why he would do such a thing and he said some really rotten shit about what a terrible person I am and he doesn’t want to remember me, that he has no good memories with me aside from a single day. A single day in 7 years and it wasn’t even our wedding day. No good memories.
So, yesterday, I went through my albums, removed him as a contributor on all of them, removed myself and my children from his life. See, he hadn’t deleted every photo, only the ones with me in them. Now he’s left with almost nothing. You don’t want to remember me? You don’t get to remember my kids in the Christmas 2014 album, either. Fuck you. You get nothing but the few pictures you took yourself. Enjoy them and revel in being rid of me completely. I did it slowly, not that I think he’d actually notice as one album after another disappeared from his own Facebook. But I reveled in it myself a bit, the spitefulness of it. You want to forget you ever knew me? Here, let me help.
And then, I blocked him. The only ways he could contact me now would be email or regular mail and I doubt either of those things will ever happen. I blocked him because I wanted him to see the last message he sent to me should he ever try to contact me via Facebook again. Because, hey, I may be a fucking freak, but I’m an amazing fucking freak. I’m a fucking freak who will cut you out like the cancer you are and fill up that empty place with all the love and kindness and friendship I have now that my life isn’t being poisoned by your presence. I will leave no room for you or anyone like you. I will be so full of light and love that I’ll be blinded by it and your brand of poison can never affect me again. I’m immune now.
Maybe that’s it, maybe I just needed to be poisoned over and over again to build up my immunity to bullshit. Hope he has fun in his shallow, empty life. The only regret I have in blocking him is that he won’t be able to see how amazing I am while he stays stuck in the same empty hole he dug for himself. No amount of alcohol or women will be able to fill that empty place inside him, but me? No empty places here. Just awesomeness. Friendship, kindness, laughs, and love.
Well, and bipolar disorder, PTSD, OCD, ADHD, and anxiety. But those things? A goddamn cake walk compared to living with someone hell bent on destroying me for their own gain. My love for myself, and the love I receive from others, is more than enough for me, and far greater than his hate and anger, far greater than the scars he left me with. I’m capable of healing, but he is not, because he can’t even see that there’s anything in himself that needs healing. And that is no longer my problem. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to help themselves. I’ve been screaming into the void for so long, wasting all my time and energy, and no more. I’m going to start screaming into my own heart and mind, instead, because at least I’m capable of listening, of self-reflection, self-care, and self-healing. I have so many people who support me, that make my journey so much easier, and I will never again allow someone into my life if they aren’t just as committed as I am to bettering themselves and their own journey, and being the love and light and support I need to continue mine.