Welp… I’m honestly at a loss for words (I’m sure that will improve). All I really want to do at this point is curl up and succumb to a permanent nap. Hard truths… I do want my suffering to end, I just don’t have the balls to make that happen. Probably for the best, I guess. My cats would get over it eventually. And at this point, I’m not sure many people would miss me.

My body is falling apart (slowly and inexorably) and I’m in constant pain. I carry it well (most of the time) because burdening the people around me is somehow worse than the pain. And besides, if I made noise when I felt pain, I’d lose my voice within the first day. Over the course of 10 years, it’s gone from a minor low back pain to basically hurting everywhere. New pains have consistently shown up for the decade, one of them as new as a month or so ago. It’s progressively worsening and there’s nothing to be done about it except grin and bear it, accept it as it comes until I die, I guess. There aren’t any answers for why this is happening, anyway. The best I can do is take pain medications (recently caved on that), gain more “prisons” (braces, so far for: wrists, knees, and one foot) and try to get PRP injections 4-6 months in a row and… maybe that will help?!

I’m finally and completely physically free of The Plague (thanks to The Boyfriend), but… I will – unfortunately – carry with me the lifetime of toxic and abusive trauma he caused, despite how much and how hard I’ve worked to get to where I am today. At the very least, I can say that I am mostly content with who I am now. It’s hard to say that, but it is the truth. I’ve grown and improved myself exponentially, with the help of therapy, Ursa, and my own grit and determination.

As expected, I’m losing The Son to Gravity’s delusional narcissism, if he isn’t totally lost to me already. My best friend, Granny Sidhé, lives 861 miles away, back in Arkansas… so I can’t just visit her and cry on her shoulder because life fucking sucks. My brother has his own issues and returned to his wife in Arkansas. I truly do hope that he’s able to get away from The Plague, as well, and recover from his addiction to alcohol. My mom is finally starting to do things on her own, made the decision to divorce The Plague (rather than remain separated til he fucking croaks)

My hands are shaking as I consider what I need to write next, knowing that The Boyfriend could very well read this. But… I promised myself that I would be true to my feelings with this Journaling Blog, no matter who reads it… so it is what it is…

As of last night… I’m pretty sure The Boyfriend is done with me, too. I was gaining small amounts of trust back, slowly, as we continued to do daily check-ins and work on our relationship together (including weekly group support, couples therapy, and his very new individual therapy). But, along with the fight we had the night before and the despair/disappointment I felt all day yesterday… I discovered that he’d relapsed and had been lying about it for… I’m not even sure how long. At the very least, May, which is when he created the alternative Instagram account I found. The rest I discovered completely by accident… and had a complete breakdown at that point.

Some highlights from confronting him about it after he got home from work (plz keep in mind that the trauma of all this has stricken my memory, so words I quote are not exact)? He mocked my Forgiveness entry, saying that I only believe in the concept so that I can find fault in everything he says/does. He confirmed that he loves me, that I’m worth it, and he does want my support… but at the same time, he also doesn’t want the addiction OR our relationship. There was a lot of crying on my part, silence and lack of remorse or any emotion except anger from him. When he said he was tired of all the bullshit, I had him log into his computer, where I had everything up for him to see. I guess he felt defeated in that moment, seeing that he was caught red-handed, because he didn’t seem pissed off any more. He also said he’s tired of everything and just wants peace. I told him that pushing away the one person that has stuck by him and loved him is not the way to gain that. It’s going to take a lot of work. After deleting things, we sat in silence for a while, until I quietly asked if he wants to move forward with me. I could have cut the silence that followed with a butter knife. It went on so long that I finally asked if he’d heard me. He said he didn’t have an answer for that. So… I asked if he needed to think about it and he nodded/said yes.

So, today… he’s defaulted to Sleep-Resets-Everything-and-I-Can-Completely-Ignore-That-Anything-Shitty-Happened-Mode and seems to be in a good mood, despite being at work. And me?! I’m left in limbo, wondering whether or not he wants to move forward with me, whether he’s in such a good mood now because he will get to throw me away and move on with his life. He won’t have to face anything hard or work on being a better person anymore.

I am left utterly destroyed, re-traumatized by his addiction and how callous and uncaring he was last night. I’m left feeling like I’ve been completely abandoned, despite how much I believe I’ve been good to him. All the patience, compassion, understanding, love, support… seems to mean fuck all to him. I won’t say that I am an angel or perfect, far from it. I know I can improve myself and I WANT to. That’s the difference. I want to move forward, not just in my own journey of healing, but with him, too.

But… I’ve lost hope (and yeah, fuck that stupid word once again). He’s shattered every little bit of it – and the trust I was rebuilding – that I’d gained these last few months. I wish he had opened up to me and told me the truth from the very beginning. I would have loved to be supportive and love him through how fucking difficult this has been, but… he didn’t and here we are. He says he didn’t want to hurt me, which I’m assuming is why he hid it and lied, but… again, open and honest communication CAN hurt, but not nearly as bad as this shit.

I guess I’m going to go take a nap, I’m completely drained. I have art group trauma therapy in 3 hours and I won’t make it if I don’t rest. I might take a shower after, not sure if I’ll have the capacity.

My heart has been physically hurting since night before last. Sadly, I’m content if it decides to give out on me. At least it won’t hurt any more, ya know?