A Farewell to Arms

I’m simply doing a little bit of flow right now in terms about the end of my last relationship. If you’ve been following closely, you would have seen that somethings have not been going so well. We were constantly fighting about certain things… important things like he thought that I didn’t trust him. Or how I make him the bad guy whenever we have a disagreement. Or how he’s never wrong and anything to shatter his self-image of himself as a good person would drive him insane. I was there to witness all of these, and I don’t believe that I even did half the things he said I did. 

It’s simply put enough like this. We were too different for one another… at least that’s what I keep telling myself as to why the breakup happened. We have very different communication ideas and styles and there was no way he was going to understand me. Ever with all my faults and the reason why I act the way I do. 

He wanted instant access to my trust and I just couldn’t do it. I don’t instantly trust anyone, yet I gave him all the weapons to use against me. It could be the paranoia talking here, but something tells me that he did manage to use a few of those against me. It wasn’t quite fair how things were evaluated through our relationship, and I had been feeling that things have been one-sided during the past month or two, and I don’t feel like I could mention any of it.

On the flip side, he did try to change whenever I brought something up but often took it personally as he considered himself an asshole whenever I mentioned that something I said had made him feel bad. A part of me doesn’t care. Be responsible for your actions and own up to them, not internalize them to cut down your own character and then attack me for mentioning something. If you think you’re an asshole, then maybe you are one. 

Going back he did try to change some things, but I don’t think he was ever going to change the way he considered what a relationship should be. He wants everything to be perfectly packaged and ready to go. I am not that. I warned him in the first few months of our dating. I had no idea what or who I was and I can’t promise anything. Yet he persisted. And then blames me. 

Especially when it came to my anxiety, and then — what my therapist has called it — PTSD. Mind you, he was military, so he saw and experienced things worse than me. I will say that. But every time I mentioned what effects both of those had on my behavior, he simply said, well stop it. Oh, let me just turn off this switch. I think that’s honestly what set me off the most about all this — like he was dismissing my own experience even though he never wanted to know anything about my past. Ever. He said he could never differentiate between the past and the present, which we know is bullshit. But about all that, he didn’t demonstrate a sort of empathy and patience that I was looking to have in a relationship. And I was not the strong person I advertised myself to be. 

I rolled over a lot for him. I made a lot of concessions that I should not have made. But I wanted this to work. And when I broke it off, he said to me, “Well you matter more to me than being right or justified which is why I keep my mouth shut about a lot of the shit that happens in our relationship.” Well, he didn’t sound happy. I knew I wasn’t happy. So why do we continue to torture ourselves here? Let me be the bad guy and break it off, so you can tell all your friends that I didn’t appreciate you, that I didn’t notice all the work you put in. Just know I’m not gonna’ wait for you anymore. There is not going to be another night where I’m waiting by the phone for you to say that you’re coming by. Or that I can come by. Or that I know that you’ve been drinking and then you’re gonna turn into the mean drunk you are, cutting me down and not making any sort of attempt at understanding and just discounting me. I’m not gonna do it. This is the last time you throw me a present to make up for what you pulled and how you negated me. I won’t stick around for this. I love and care deeply, but at the same time, I won’t put up with this.

And even against all this, I am still hoping that he calls me and says that he understands where he went wrong and it won’t happen again. That he lists the ways in where he went wrong… that he wanted to make things right between us. I want to hear that he still cares too… but I know I’ll never get that, much like I won’t get that apology from my brother for fucking up my entire life and unable to have a relationship because of my own fears that I bring into them. I’m afraid that someone is going to repeat what happened: the verbal degradation, the labeling, the disappointment and the rampant emotional abuse that I suffered for years… and everyone enabling it, calling it just sibling rivalry and that it’s harmless. 

I never outright competed against my brother for anything. I knew he was the smarter one. The more ambitious. Less depressed. Better looking. Less of a disappointment. Less of a screw up than me. I noticed this. He had the better grades. The better outlook and the better prospects. I compared myself and I just looked around to agreement I seemed to have gotten it. And my mother would simply make a fake effort to make it look like I had done a good job with my grades during school, but really? I’m not the straight A student. Math was a grand mystery to me. I wasn’t good at it. I wasn’t really good at anything. I thought I would be better at him with languages, but that wasn’t so true.  On vacations where English was not spoken, they looked to my brother to be a translator, even though I knew the language too. Sometimes slightly better than him. I could never get a leg up on him in any area in life, and he made sure I knew it.

I wanted to express myself, but every time I dared to dress differently, I was met with disapproving gazes and wonderings from my own family about my own difference. I’ve heard several random strangers and even others tell me just how different I am from everyone else. Of course, I’m different. I don’t fit in well with anywhere in the world and I have to make a performance out of it all just so I can find some sort of semblance of safety and camaraderie. I have never once felt like I have been honest about myself to anyone and that I rely on the programming I have to make people comfortable. Because I don’t believe that others will be able to handle or want me. 

Depressing, no?

Well after the many rejections I have received over the years, I started to believe these messages of nobody wanting me, that people would not regret if I ended my own life, that really no one wants me around. Outcasted. How was I going to survive? Constantly rejected by anyone that I was romantically interested in, rejected by own brother, feeling rejected by own mother in terms of her coddling of my brother. Not willing to acknowledge that he was emotionally abusing, and that I internalized those habits to create my own prison. No one saw this, and frankly, only a maybe a few people cared. My friends in high school… there were only two, but they were the only people that I thought actually cared. And I know I was not easy on them. Yet they’re still my friends today. And I hope until the end of time. 

But my stain still lies bare of my chest. My own issues, my own mental disabilities that make every day difficult… I’m working on it, and I can only hope that in the future I find another relationship who is more empathetic, understanding, and patient with me. That’s all I can do. 

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