Thanks to All
November 28, 2014
Thank you to everyone, for their enthusiastic support. I would reply to each and everyone of you, but I think it’s just easier to respond to all of you at once. But please know I appreciate all of your heartfelt replies. I have come to see you as my extended family. You certainly know more about me than most.
I have indeed failed to take my own advice. Sadly, I am fully aware of where I have failed myself. I am frustrated as well. It is always easier to dole out advice than it is to follow it. Knowledge of the disease does not make you immune to it. That’s why I’m not a shrink. I can only inform people using my own mistakes as an example of what NOT to do.
What I fail to offer as a role-model, I make up for with familiar stories… stories that confirm what others, like me, know all too well.
At the time, inviting my ex to dinner, seemed harmless enough. She claims she is seeing a shrink twice a week and dutifully attending ACOA meetings. She showed no signs of hostility. Although I did sense that every time we had a “good talk”, she would immediately distance herself. That is the way it has always been.
I am Tantalus, a Greek tragedy waiting to be written. I see the dangling grapes before me, close enough to imagine the taste but sufficiently far enough to never know it’s taste. This is not a romanticized excuse for why I failed, it’s an accurate depiction of why I do what I do for those who rightfully ask WHY?
Outsiders will never know why I do what I do. It is true that I am crazy…
crazy for letting these women into my life over and over again. We are all trying to fix the past. I do it through these damaged women. In my own troubled mind, I believe that if I just fix ONE, then I will have fixed all of them.
It is like the gambler who thinks if he just rolls the dice one more time, he will win enough to make up for all his losses. Once again, this is not an excuse but an explanation. If I fail to save myself, at least others know why I failed.
I am tortured by relationships that end EXACTLY the way the last one did. I fool myself into thinking the one in hand is different than the last one, she is less fucked up than the last one. Which may be true, but fucked up nonetheless.
Each one seems more hopeful than the last, which gives the appearance of betterment. If she is going to therapy twice a week, I think “well, that’s an improvement”. I fool myself into believing this is it. This is the one who will restore my faith in love. And then the mask invariably falls off.
It is only after rounds and rounds of failed attempts, that you finally see the REALITY of who you are dealing with… who you have always been dealing with. These troubled souls can only put on an act for so long. When they can put on no more acts, that’s when they really let you have it.
When they know the jig is up, they go FULL CRAZY on you.
When they have the safety blanket of having acquired a brand new replacement (an unwitting victim), they burn the old one down to the ground, including evidence of all their wrongdoing.
She says I need help and she is probably right. But she thinks if I seek help, all her issues will magically melt away. That is her way of saying it was all my fault. Do not mistaken it for concern for my well-being. It is her way of projecting her illness onto me. She is as addicted to the Blame Game as I am to troubled souls. A dysfunctional match made in hell.
She no longer remembers telling me she contemplated suicide. Ah yes, I’ve seen this disappearing act before, where claims of suicidal thoughts magically disappear at the exact moment she has found another victim to manipulate… to torment.
She has found another one she believes is the ONE. And he is soooo much nicer and loving than I ever was. Perfect in every way. Aren’t they always?
I will be fine. With each fucked up relationship, I become a little less emotionally attached. I care a little less. I don’t fall to pieces as easily as I use to. I am back on the bachelor trail. My sense of independence is fully intact.
The downside is I have become more cynical and jaded. I have, over the years, become desensitized to heartbreak, maybe even a little dead inside. But sometimes you have to silence that part of you that cares too much just so you can carry on.