storiesfromanothertime

[storiesfromanothertime]

I never thought I would or could be in a situation like this one. I never thought I would be so conflicted about what to do when I was faced with circumstances like this one.

Its horrible to love and care for the one person who is actively destroying you.

How do you get through? What is the point?

I just wanted a better life than the one I had. I'm still just wanting a better life for myself.

This isn't it.

[storiesfromanothertime]

Day one for the books, here's what I noticed

I am very sleepy, and my brain is quiet for the first time in a few years. It feels eery. But strangely like something I've been trying to accomplish for quite some time. A lot of days I'd sit at my apartment trying to smoke or drink my brain into slowing down. It never worked. I guess prozac works. Go figure.

I'm still having a lot of negative thoughts, all of them revolving around my relationship. I'm still sure the true solution is my absolute freedom. But for now...

I think my ability to be distracted might be getting worse, as per my suspicion that I have undiagnosed adhd. I feel like sometimes my racing thoughts kept me on track with some things - multitasking, leaving one task to return to another and coming back, etc. But how much the absence of racing thoughts will effect all of that will remain to be seen.

I just overall feel kind of weird. Not bad. But a little altered.

[storiesfromanothertime]

I’m going to start prozac today.

What are my goals? To feel like I have control over my life again. To feel like I can leave my job, or even leave my apartment, without tremendous anxiety and effort. I want to make the life that I want. I don’t want to feel like a prisoner anymore.

I wake up in the middle of the night and never fall completely back asleep, because of the racing thoughts.

On my days off, I sit at my desk, alone, and think of 100 things I want to do but can’t bring myself to get up and go do them. My thoughts race, nonstop. I spend a lot of my shifts in a negative headspace about how much I can’t stand being around certain people. I have doctors appointments I need to go to, but can’t bring myself to make appointments or go.

I fight with Steven constantly. But at this stage, I am convinced/certain that it’s a result of his poor mental health, his inability to understand much of anything going on/conversation/things I say/mean, that I am being manipulated by him daily simply for existing. I want to feel strong enough to leave this situation. I want to get away from the trauma bond he and I have, because I am certain that he’s the most toxic individual I have in my life. And i’m tired of being a Renfeld. 

I’m convinced he’s messed with my computer when I wasnt home. I noticed an icon on my desktop a week ago that said there was a microphone running, something I had never seen before. I immediately turned off that access. Today I got an alert from my bank that someone accessed my bank, using my password, while I was on shift at work and not accessing my account. I went into the access history and it’s been happening almost daily. I changed my account passwords and had it sign me out of every instance I was logged into. In addition, i’m adding a password to my home desktop and changing the lock on my phone. I have nothing to hide, except a large emergency account for when I leave. But it horrifies me that he might be responsible, though. I am giving benefit of the doubt for now. But I am skeptical. 

Things were going well for us, for about a month. And then he sexually assaulted me one night when I decided to drink at home. To write all about it here would be too awful. I’ve been horrified, confused ever since and all I know for sure is that this person has hurt me hundreds of times and will continue if I don’t find a way out. I have over 10k saved for when the time is right, but I can’t figure out where to go from here. I’m alone. 

I am keeping this journal because on a daily basis, my partner accuses me of things I am not doing. They emotionally abuse and manipulate me. They treat me as though I am only my trauma. They treat me like asking for basic relationship stuff is some trauma response. They overstep every boundary I make and tell me that I earned it. I’ve grown to hate him. Especially now, I just feel like my life will be so much happier when i’m able to get out. But I guess. for now, there’s Prozac.

[storiesfromanothertime]

The First of Many Red Flags...

was the first Valentines day we ‘spent’ together. 850 miles away and all I really wanted was to connect. We couldn’t do something normal couples do, so I thought at the very least I could do something cute i’ve seen other long distance couples do. I got a big white USPS box and I went shopping and I packed it with goodies. It was a care package of sorts - snacks, candy, a cute lion stuffed animal holding a big red heart that said “Be Mine.” A short love note about how glad I was that we had met each other. I even got these adorable foam heart stickers and put them on the outside of the box. 

I sent it out and patiently waited for it to arrive, scheduling it to arrive on Valentines Day itself. I remember being so excited for him to receive it. I had chosen all the items carefully to be things I knew he enjoyed. I love sentimental shit, even if it’s as simple as remembering someones favorite candy bar.

He went radio silent for hours. Then hours turned into a few days. I had absolutely no idea what I had done. I was legit devastated, and back then I had serious self esteem issues so I beat myself up for somehow causing my then long-distance boyfriend to ghost me, for sending him a box of snacks. I remember sitting there picking apart everything I put in the box. Everything I had said for days - in the letter I put in the box, in our text communications. The way I was so fast to blame myself was something I wouldn’t outgrow for another 4 years of my life. 

When he finally came back and decided to acknowledge me - I learned that gifts are off limits. I learned that it makes him far too uncomfortable to give OR receive any type of gift, to or from anyone, for me to ever do something like that again. Furthermore, there would never be gifts exchanged between us for birthdays, or holidays. Because the simple act of receiving that box of food with a love note fucked him up inside so badly that he spent several days in a type of episode. This was far before I learned that celebrating holidays at all was going to be off the table. Back then I remember thinking that gifts aren’t really that big of a deal, that there might be a form of compromise even. 

In the beginning, there was talk of compromise that in the place of gifts we would have experiences together - go to nice restaurants, places we haven’t been. That never really happened either. 7 years passed and no earnest acknowledgement of my birthday, our anniversary, Christmas, valentines day. I thought gifts weren’t a big deal. But then there wasn’t anything else, in their place, either. I would try, do all the planning. Everything, because he said he couldn’t handle being expected to plan things either. It either came down to my plans not being good enough, or he would suddenly have a collapsing mental health day that day - or, more commonly, a few days out he would tell me it was too much pressure to go to dinner. That actually all week he’s been anxious and secretly hating that he has to go with me at all. But instead of apologizing, he would begin the blaming. Nevermind that we agreed to this situation amicably a week ago, it was now my fault that he was anxious and that I really shouldn’t ask him to go out on that short of notice (one week) (he is, and was, unemployed. We are living together. On top of planning, I was straight up paying.) 

I am growing tired of doing everything for myself. Buying my own flowers, my own gifts, for myself, with my own money, to feel something that is missing. There is so much missing. I have hidden everything. I just want to start telling the truth because there needs to be record of what this person has, and is, putting me through, the mental health crisis they’ve been having for the last several years and refusing treatment and therapy and how it has deeply impacted my physical and mental health. This might not constitute abuse to most, but there will be stories told here that will be of no question to most. The story of that first Valentines Day is just a day I wish I could go back to, and walk away from this person. Because in my empathy I saw someone with severe anxiety that he would for sure be getting help for. But over time, that has turned out to be a person who will actually blame any outside source they can possible find, from people to silverware to the way the wind blows - for his inability to keep it together. That’s when things turn abusive. There’s no personal responsibility for the fact that his anxiety is so overwhelming that leaving the house to go to dinner with his girlfriend is too much. That even getting a job is too much. Going to the grocery store is too much. Instead of: my anxiety is preventing me from doing something I want to do and I need to find ways to stop the anxiety because it’s destroying my life; deeply damaging my relationship -- his way of thinking is such that the anxiety isn’t actually the problem, it’s that someone (me) has done something (there will be big and tinys somethings) to directly cause the anxiety and that cause must be entirely eliminated instead. Instead of managing the anxiety, he instead tries to manage everything outside of it and control everyone and everything ELSE, instead of his own mental health disorder. Over these last 7 years, I have simultaneously been one of the only people he has let into his life, while also being his biggest target. A cycle of love bombing, emotional and verbal abuse that I have kept secret from family, friends, and coworkers. I am preparing, trying to get myself strong enough to leave. I have a fuck ton of records - years and years of conversations but I really need to start telling the stories. 

[storiesfromanothertime]

I’ve decided that it’s time to start writing again. Maybe for my own sanity. Maybe as therapy. But there’s stories I need to tell. Things that deserve to be remembered. So as I remember them.. as I reach conclusions about things from my past, as I grow into the person I want to become... i’ll try to put words to feelings here. Instead of allowing myself to be lost downstream to my own conciousness. Because I feel like there’s something important, some teachable moment, in all of it. And if not, it sure would be nice to feel like someone is listening.