(no subject)
So... Jaime.
You know, I met her while I was going through a period of transition. See, I met her back in... what? 2002? Something like that, anyway. I was two years divorced, and the scars hadn't healed. Some of them still haven't healed. I keep my wounds close, keep them hidden. My therapist hates that. I'm suposed to open them up, drain the pus, heal and get on with my life.
So... before I talk about Jaime, I'll talk about my ex-wife Sara.
I was transitioning from DUDE WEED LMAO to PROFESSIONAL ADULT when I met her. She was transitioning from SPOILED RICH GIRL to DUDE WEED LMAO. We just happened to intersect at the point where I was on my way out and she was on her way in. We got married. We moved to Texas. She got us evicted from our apartment and we had to move in with her parents. Her parents were pretty good people, except that when Sara got pregnant we got kicked out. We moved back to Colorado. She blew all my money, so we had to move in with my mother. This is when I learned joint bank accounts are a HORRIBLE FUCKING IDEA.
I didn't have a great relationship with my mother, and when she found out that Sara was pregnant, she was like, "You can't stay here."
Now, Sara's never worked a day in her life. She refused to get a job, so I had to work two of them. She kept asking me why I was never home and I kept telling her why: I had to work two jobs because she wouldn't work any.
She started working on breaking up my relationships with my friends and family. "Who fo you love more, me or them?" and "If you love me, then you'll choose me over them." I was young and stupid and I had a baby on the way, so I did what I thought was right at the time: I would stay with her. I lost a lot of good friendships and some of my family still won't talk to me.
I was working one job in the morning and one in the afternoon. I had just enough time to shower and change clothes between jobs. I got home one day and the neighbors told me she'd been taken to the hospital in an ambulance.
I went to the hospital and she was drugged out of her mind. I dunno whatall she'd taken. She was higher than a kite; she was orbiting Neptune. That caused her to miscarry. When she was finally sober enough and safe to go home i asked her why she'd get stoned, knowing that she was pregnant. She told me, "I didn't feel like being a mother anymore."
Sarcastically, I told her that i didn't feel like being a husband anymore. She was in and out of depression with some suicide attempts, and she was in and out of the mental hospital. I got a divorce which went quickly and smoothly. She was so bombed off her gourd she didn't realize we weren't even married anymore. While she was spending time with her friends, I secretly moved out and left her with the rent and utilities, called and told her parents that we were divorced and they should come and pick her up.
Sara was literally the worst thing to happen to me since my older sister.
I was putting myself back together when I met Jaime. Jaime doesn't know this, but just being around her, just hanging out with her, just talking with her, I was able to figure out some important things about myself. Parts of me were arrogant. Parts of me were cruel and cold. Parts of me were still hurting. Still, I fell in love with her.
Shaun had fucked up; Shaun had learned from his fuckups. He wouldn't repeat the same mistakes.
I made different mistakes, but Jaime and I seemed to mesh well, and when we parted ways, we separated on amicable terms. It was a good relationship. We were even friends afterward.
So the other day I was browsing 'Memories' on Facebook, and a conversation between the two of us popped up. I realized I hadn't talked to her in a while and I looked her up. She'd apparently unfriended me at some point. It's okay, I don't have a correctly working brain. Being next to a depressive PTSD anxiety disorder person with suicidal ideations is hard. I get it. I'm radioactive. You don't want to be around me. I don't have a problem with that. Anyway, i looked her up. Probably a dumb idea. She had a blog listed on her facebook, adn I realized when I visited the blog that it went back decades.
Stupid me, i went back to the time when we were together and read through it, expecting to ... I don't know, see some memories of our relationship. "Shaun said this, and it was funny." something like that. I didn't exist. I was never mentioned at all. The times we went across the country to see each other, our whole relationship, nothing. It never happened.
So I thought to myself, "Well, she meant a lot to me, but maybe I didn't make that much of an impact on her." People do that. I might make a huge impression on [someone] but I might not remember [them]. The reverse might be true.
But then my brain catastrophized.
All the times she was busy.
The subtle sense of having to put up with me.
The great sex we had was just her taking pity on me and letting me use her vagina.
To me, she was someone I could be proud of. "This is my girlfriend, and I'm in love with her." I posted it all over Livejournal because Facebook didn't exit at the time. On her side though, she deleted her LJ(s) and her blog didn't even mention that i existed. I am a thing of shame.
So I've spent all day crying my eyes out. our relationship ended a long fucking time ago. I had a nightmare- I dreamed- and I understood something I should have realized more than fifteen years ago.
It happened fifteen years ago, so I should be able to shrug it off. "Shaun, it happened so fucking long ago it's not even fucking relevant anymore." but for me, the pain is new, the wound is new. I hurt and I can't stop hurting. Something else I'll have to get over.
You know, I met her while I was going through a period of transition. See, I met her back in... what? 2002? Something like that, anyway. I was two years divorced, and the scars hadn't healed. Some of them still haven't healed. I keep my wounds close, keep them hidden. My therapist hates that. I'm suposed to open them up, drain the pus, heal and get on with my life.
So... before I talk about Jaime, I'll talk about my ex-wife Sara.
I was transitioning from DUDE WEED LMAO to PROFESSIONAL ADULT when I met her. She was transitioning from SPOILED RICH GIRL to DUDE WEED LMAO. We just happened to intersect at the point where I was on my way out and she was on her way in. We got married. We moved to Texas. She got us evicted from our apartment and we had to move in with her parents. Her parents were pretty good people, except that when Sara got pregnant we got kicked out. We moved back to Colorado. She blew all my money, so we had to move in with my mother. This is when I learned joint bank accounts are a HORRIBLE FUCKING IDEA.
I didn't have a great relationship with my mother, and when she found out that Sara was pregnant, she was like, "You can't stay here."
Now, Sara's never worked a day in her life. She refused to get a job, so I had to work two of them. She kept asking me why I was never home and I kept telling her why: I had to work two jobs because she wouldn't work any.
She started working on breaking up my relationships with my friends and family. "Who fo you love more, me or them?" and "If you love me, then you'll choose me over them." I was young and stupid and I had a baby on the way, so I did what I thought was right at the time: I would stay with her. I lost a lot of good friendships and some of my family still won't talk to me.
I was working one job in the morning and one in the afternoon. I had just enough time to shower and change clothes between jobs. I got home one day and the neighbors told me she'd been taken to the hospital in an ambulance.
I went to the hospital and she was drugged out of her mind. I dunno whatall she'd taken. She was higher than a kite; she was orbiting Neptune. That caused her to miscarry. When she was finally sober enough and safe to go home i asked her why she'd get stoned, knowing that she was pregnant. She told me, "I didn't feel like being a mother anymore."
Sarcastically, I told her that i didn't feel like being a husband anymore. She was in and out of depression with some suicide attempts, and she was in and out of the mental hospital. I got a divorce which went quickly and smoothly. She was so bombed off her gourd she didn't realize we weren't even married anymore. While she was spending time with her friends, I secretly moved out and left her with the rent and utilities, called and told her parents that we were divorced and they should come and pick her up.
Sara was literally the worst thing to happen to me since my older sister.
I was putting myself back together when I met Jaime. Jaime doesn't know this, but just being around her, just hanging out with her, just talking with her, I was able to figure out some important things about myself. Parts of me were arrogant. Parts of me were cruel and cold. Parts of me were still hurting. Still, I fell in love with her.
Shaun had fucked up; Shaun had learned from his fuckups. He wouldn't repeat the same mistakes.
I made different mistakes, but Jaime and I seemed to mesh well, and when we parted ways, we separated on amicable terms. It was a good relationship. We were even friends afterward.
So the other day I was browsing 'Memories' on Facebook, and a conversation between the two of us popped up. I realized I hadn't talked to her in a while and I looked her up. She'd apparently unfriended me at some point. It's okay, I don't have a correctly working brain. Being next to a depressive PTSD anxiety disorder person with suicidal ideations is hard. I get it. I'm radioactive. You don't want to be around me. I don't have a problem with that. Anyway, i looked her up. Probably a dumb idea. She had a blog listed on her facebook, adn I realized when I visited the blog that it went back decades.
Stupid me, i went back to the time when we were together and read through it, expecting to ... I don't know, see some memories of our relationship. "Shaun said this, and it was funny." something like that. I didn't exist. I was never mentioned at all. The times we went across the country to see each other, our whole relationship, nothing. It never happened.
So I thought to myself, "Well, she meant a lot to me, but maybe I didn't make that much of an impact on her." People do that. I might make a huge impression on [someone] but I might not remember [them]. The reverse might be true.
But then my brain catastrophized.
All the times she was busy.
The subtle sense of having to put up with me.
The great sex we had was just her taking pity on me and letting me use her vagina.
To me, she was someone I could be proud of. "This is my girlfriend, and I'm in love with her." I posted it all over Livejournal because Facebook didn't exit at the time. On her side though, she deleted her LJ(s) and her blog didn't even mention that i existed. I am a thing of shame.
So I've spent all day crying my eyes out. our relationship ended a long fucking time ago. I had a nightmare- I dreamed- and I understood something I should have realized more than fifteen years ago.
It happened fifteen years ago, so I should be able to shrug it off. "Shaun, it happened so fucking long ago it's not even fucking relevant anymore." but for me, the pain is new, the wound is new. I hurt and I can't stop hurting. Something else I'll have to get over.