Then I Exhaled

When I was writing yesterday's post about monkeydickfuckers, Jigger walked in and I stopped at the spot where the post ended which is why it ended so abruptly. I had asked him to bring some juice home with him because I had a horrible migraine, and he did, but as he handed it to me he made some remark that just broke me. Honestly, I have no idea what he said all I know is that it caused me to fly into a blind RAGE. I unleashed upon him all of the shit that I have been keeping inside of me. I was CRUEL. I knew exactly what to say, how to say it, and when to say it so that it would inflict as much pain and hurt as possible. At first he tried to put up a fight but really he was way out of his league. While we have had screaming matches in the past, I don't usually go full force, but this time was different. He stood no chance. The more I screamed the less he did. Until finally at some point there was only silence, and we simply stared at each other.

But I refused to blink first. I stared him down. Stone cold death stare. I did not cry. I did not show emotion. I am good at it. My mother trained me well. All those times of being beaten with belts and switches. "If you cry and apologize, I will stop she would say. Except I hadn't done anything wrong. At least not enough to deserve the beating I was getting and fuck her if I cried or apologized so she beat me. Until blood ran down my legs and I stared. Until the switch or belt broke and I simply stared. So really Jigger had no chance and I broke him. 

I hurt him deeply with my words, but I was also hurting. To be fair to him, he is as much a product of his environment as I am. I react the way I do partly because of bipolar and partly because of the abuse I have lived through. He is no different. He wasn't abused in the same sense as me, but he wasn't loved either. He is the "black sheep" in his family which is ironic considering all he does for them, but simply because he chose to live his life slightly differently than their traditional way he is the outcast. They talk so badly about him. So it's hard for him to accept that I truly am with him because I love him and want to be with him. We both have scars that are healing. We both have issues that we each are dealing with. We come from very different worlds so sometimes he doesn't understand my language and I don't understand his, but we have reached a point where we both realize and accept we have done wrong to the other one. 

After he broke down last night, we talked. I mean really talked for several hours. He finally told me all of the things he had been told. He doesn't really believe it, but he says that sometimes when I do or say something it makes him think that maybe it might be true, and anyone who has bipolar and/or BPD knows how easily it is to make yourself believe the "worst". So we both agreed to be more open and talk to each other more honestly. Even if it is hard. Even if it is something we don't want to talk about because if we don't then we are going to tear each other apart. 

In some ways I am glad he is going on this trip in a couple weeks. I desperately need some space and living in a house full of people it is very difficult to find that space. I have always found comfort and calm in the water. Before whenever I was upset or anxious, I would go to the river and just sit and stare at it. Watching it always brought me a sense of calm and peace and now I don't have that. I feel like every nerve ending in my body is exposed and my flesh is burned raw. Every touch is painful and I just need some space. This time apart will give me that space I am so desperately in need of. Then maybe I will be able to breathe. I'm sorry for leaving that post the way I did yesterday, but it was important for me. I needed that physical reminder of where we had been and where we are going.

my spot

So for now I am just going to exhale.