he doesn’t know how
to be a person
so he pretends
& i feel
at his desperation
& i feel
because he does me
drawing dusty into this one, i realized how over the years, he even started wearing his hair like mine.
he’s my single white male (movie reference.)
you know how the children of a couple tend to look like one parent or the other? well, our kids look like clones of each other. i realized, after they started popping out of me, that dusty and i basically could be brother & sister as far as our physical appearances go. therefore, our children all match.
that’s when i realized how self-absorbed we both were. so self-absorbed that we basically married & mated with a replica of ourselves.
when i started researching narcissism, after suspecting it was a driving force in dusty’s personality and in his treatment of me, i realized that i also had some of the tell-tale signs of narcissism. well, not just me, everyone does. i even read one thing that stated just that. with society today, narcissism is just part of who we are.
this morning i was having a dream about longing for dusty. in the dream i was texting him to lure him to me. i was offering to get high with him. to eat ice cream & watch a movie. i may have even thrown in the offer of a blow job.
trying to appeal to all of dusty’s base needs.
there was a time in my life, when i did throw myself at dusty like this. i don’t even smoke pot. i hate it. but i did it for dusty. to make dusty love me. to make dusty choose me. the mother of his (at the time) three children.
it was a sad & stupid thing to do, & i am embarrassed now when i look back.
but in my dream this morning, i was desperate for him…again.
i wonder what this is. my subconscious does it to me a lot, creates a desperate me in my dreams, longing for the dusty who is leaving me behind….
and then iggy woke me up to tell me he had fleas.
this is my day so far.
he told me
he was a chameleon
yet i still fell prey
when he found his way
into my heart
& even some things
i fell in love
it makes sense
that i left him
the story of my ex-husband is a sad story. his story is sad. his childhood was a nightmare. he became a narcissist & a chameleon because he did not know how else to cope. or, that is my take on it anyway.
i realized recently why he seems so attractive to me sometimes. he is literally adopting my personality as his own…or at least one aspect of his personality is mirrored from me. he is adopting my words, my style of dress, how i relate to our children, and even my neurosis.
it kind of blows my mind.
and then i feel really bad for him.
but it isn’t safe for me to feel bad for him.
so, instead, i draw pictures & write pages of verse to try to understand my own experience with it. to try to process my own experience…so i can heal & be stronger.
but, fuck, i wish so badly he could heal as well….
i never wanted
i would have been
i would have traded the world
how pretty they sound.
there is this thing dusty says to me whenever he feels the need to shut me up. he mentions this mysterious thing he whispered into my ear during our wedding ceremony. he brings it up knowing i have the memory of a chipmunk on mind altering drugs. he brings it up knowing i was so stressed out on our wedding day that i barely remember being there. he brings it up knowing i will feel bad for not remembering his great declaration of love.
or maybe i’m wrong.
but i’m not.
he brought it up recently when we were texting back & forth.
he texted, “i meant what i whispered in your ear that day.”
so i asked, “which day?”
and of course it was our wedding day to which he referred even though that was no where near to being the topic of our conversation.
yes, dusty, you are one up on me. i don’t know what you whispered. i just don’t fucking remember.
so i texted him back to confess that i was too hopped up on anxiety to remember anything from our wedding day.
so he finally told me those magical words that he has held as proof of his good intentions all these years:
i may not be perfect, but i will always love you.
so of course my response was what the fucking fuck? who asked for perfect? i would have settled for a dude who didn’t escape into a pot-induced video game haze instead of being present in our marriage. i would have settled for a dude who didn’t insult me on the day i buried my brother. i would have settled for a dude who helped change the diapers & got up at night to help me with the babies…or who fucking didn’t berate me for being pregnant. i would have settled for a dude who didn’t fuck around on me to punish me.
so i told him, those are just words. anyone can say words. without the action to back them up…just..fucking..words.
when you least expect
on the hot
& you’re all like,
“that didn’t hurt,”
as you refuse
just stuff. processing everything, sometimes things surge to the surface and catch you off guard. but you keep processing through it. stitch it back in. continue the journey.
he is so good
at handing his problems
over to me
waiting for me to fix them
so he can blame me
when they just aren’t
does he even know
what i struggle with
he is so good at showing
his injuries to me
getting me to cry
over every little bump
to his heart & soul
does he even see
how my injuries
next to his
& leave me
okay. maybe you will understand. dusty thinks i have written him off because he was “honest” with me & told me about his still being in contact with hello kitty fuckface (not her real name.) he refuses to comprehend that the reason i am telling him to fuck the fuck off for good & forever is that fact that i have been asking him since 2013 to end his contact/relationship with her. that there should be absolutely no reason for him to be “honest” with me about her because she should not even be part of the equation.
five years of his using this other woman to manipulate me. holy fucking shit. why have i let him do this to me for five years?
seriously. what is the psychology behind that? am i a chump? a masochist? a desperate & lonely soul? that fucking desperate? that fucking delusional. that fucking dedicated to a happy ending?
what the ever-loving fuck.
and now i find myself having to learn to just walk away. it is so hard…so hard to just walk away. to suppress that urge to have the last word. to suppress that need for him to understand–to just fucking get it for once. i have to walk away. every word i say to him. every conversation i have–it’s the sticky strands of a spider web. his spider web. to keep me engaged…he just wants me to stay engaged…because then he somehow wins?
i don’t fucking know.
or fucking care at this point.
he keeps talking about how we need to talk…thing is, he never talks to me. he never listens to me…he just manipulates and plays me like a fucking pawn in his demented game.
guess what, motherfucker, i quit.
he’s built the groundwork
for my psychotic break
just one word
& the grasp
i so desperately hold
on my reality
so many careful years
just building on
to damage done
by my parents
by other men
i even handed him
that he would not hurt me
though my ever-faithful tarot cards (as well as every other experience i have ever had with dusty) warned me there would be conflict and that it was best if i did not engage…just let it blow over…holy fuck, he knows how to get me to engage. i try so hard to walk away. i say over & over, “i don’t want to talk about it.” but dusty is relentless until there is nothing left of me. just a glimpse of who i used to be as i morph into something i never want to be.
one of my parents.
this was our last dance.
i asked for a sign, and i got it.
there is nothing left here.
i need to move forward.
like, nine years ago…but better late than never.
this journal page is dedicated to my friend nexus who has been very supportive & encouraging of my art…and who knows how it feels to burn at the stake ❤
come at night
whether you believe in them
at night is when
you should leave
so that those
they are welcome
if not wanted
that yours is a protected space
give them a little
but not too much
& send them
something is living in my compost. or, at least, visiting every night.
i bury things, he digs them up.
and i wonder if i should dig a deeper hole, or just leave the scraps on top and hope for the best.
he dug up the remains of the lambs (the remains of the lambs an anthony hopkins mash-up coming soon to a theater near you)…and digs them up again every time i try to put them to rest anew.
so the other night, i butchered a duck. i went ahead and did it on top of my compost and just left any unused parts laying out for my compost dweller.
my thinking is that if i keep the critter fed, it won’t set its sights on any living creatures in my yard.
is this faulty thinking?
i don’t think so.
there is enough for all of us…i can live & let live as long as my compost companion does the same.
in other scavenger news…
dusty will not stop texting me. fuck a fuck a fuck. seriously? he is trying to evoke a response from me, and i am seeing what he says for what it is–bait. manipulation. espousing his own reality as if it were fact.
it is nice to be able to spot the bullshit…but i wish i did not have to.
he is due to visit saturday morning through sunday for iggy’s birthday.
i am trying to mentally prepare myself…but mostly i just feel pissed off & stressed out & filled with dread.
then i remembered another fucking thing. april 22nd, the day after iggy’s birthday, is the 8 year antiversary of our divorce. i divorced him 8 years ago.
why haven’t i managed to move further away from him in those 8 years????
but at least i’m moving now.
i’m moving now.
watch me go.