you don't know me
Oh, dear diary, I know you aren't exactly as private as the multitude of half-filled notebooks I have been collecting, but you aren't as public as you used to be either, and you're a lot easier to use in bed in the dark. I am scared, really truly terrified, and I feel it is time now to confess something that has been on my mind recently and really came to the forefront just now:
What if my fucked-up-ness is the only thing making this work?
This was one of the myriad of questions on my mind when I started to seriously consider new meds, and it has been so persistent a day anxiety-provoking that I had a dream about Josh last week. Why does that matter? Because that relationship only worked because I was messed up enough to keep it going, past the obvious red flags and beyond the point where I knew without a doubt that it was toxic. What's more, usually in my dreams he has matured and become a human person and it's only when I wake up that I realize he is undoubtedly still as emotionally stunted and abusive as ever. This time it started out that way but soon in my dream I was saying to myself, "I had to accept the fact that he will probably never stop being a psychopath." I felt a profound sadness and loss at that moment but in a wistful way, like grieving. Speaking of which, I also had a dream last night about accidentally crashing a funeral, where most of the people in attendance were (as I realized when I woke) people I knew who died years ago.
Anyhow, back to my main concern. I have occasionally been confronted with moments recently where I had to ask myself whether the relationship trouble I'm experiencing is such a fundamental conflict that it can never be resolved, just ignored at best. Granted, I've never been in a romantic relationship this long, and I've certainly never been married before, so maybe this is just my mistrust of the unfamiliar. There are so many moments where I am amazed at how we just fit together, overwhelmed with love or just the comfort of our shared life. There are even many times when we are in conflict and I think to myself, "even if we can't get past this and we have to change the nature of our relationship, I would still rather have him in my life, in whatever capacity that could work."
I've been mired in depression and self-doubt and fear for a long time now and that hasn't helped at all, but I also know myself well enough to know that, even though it makes him crazy sometimes, my emotional nature, the highs and the lows, is part of my allure. I also know that I am very good at temporarily pushing away the things I'm not ready to deal with, even for months or years at a time. When I started these new meds I wondered whether they would fix all that, and destroy my relationship in the process. Without the ecstasy or the overwhelming need, with a level-headed and logical mind at the helm, would any of this even make sense? Would I suddenly discover that I've been hiding the truth from myself, the truth that I am no good here?
So far I'm not exactly level-headed or quite dealing with things, but I have had moments of possible clarity in which I wondered whether we really are better off together.
Tonight was a moment like that, yet altogether different. It was pleasant enough as evenings go, then we were sitting in bed and he was combing my hair (an indulgence I never grew out of) and he told me he was laughing earlier because of something he was reading on the internetz. I won't go into detail because then I really would be putting words in his mouth, but let's just say it involved some cruel bastards making light of a serious issue that affects me on a very personal level, and he thought it was funny and started to set up why a particular situation was so deserving of ridicule. At first I was just listening to his anecdote, then a couple minutes in I felt my muscles tightening as he started to explain his part. He seemed to be slowing down, trying to choose his words carefully, so I thought he could feel my tension, but the words he chose weren't making it feel any better. He was probably only halfway through the story when I abruptly pulled away and wrapped the comforter around myself. When he asked I explained it didn't feel right to have him touching me while saying things like that, so he turned off the light and rolled his back to me while I continued to sit in the dark, tears streaming down my face, wondering how it could be possible that I entwined my life with somebody who would think and say things like that.
What does that mean about me, or us? Can we really be together or is every moment just me refusing to deal with reality? If I find emotional and psychological balance, will I have to walk away? Because that is what really scares me, more than anything, because it would hurt too much. Right now I'd rather be crazy and full of tears than sensible and empty.