![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I don't know if I'm just that tired, or if my defenses are just that wrecked. Either way, the dam broke last night, so maybe that's a good thing.
I have no sense of coherency about last night, save that I told him I want out. Everything I do, I do for him. I know what I mean to him, and that's the only reason I've stayed...that and this bloody conscience and "fear of the wrath of God" and whatever else. And spite at all the people who said we would never work out. At first, it was out of love. Now, obligation. I told him my realization of having given up on us years ago...to having resigned myself to, "This is the way life is with him, I made a vow, so I'm stuck, so I'll just have to learn to deal."
I told him about years of living in fear for what he would do or say if I told him that something - anything - was wrong. He had a hard time grasping that, since what I've been telling him *lately* (which is true) is that he's doing so much better.
I acknowledged...thanked...him for *trying*. I know he's making efforts. I just told him I didn't know if I wanted those efforts to be made.
He couldn't talk much. One, he was just speechless from all this. He did apologize unendingly for putting so much pressure on me. For dragging me out to Oklahoma. For my being the only one really working. For not doing even little things around the house.
Two, I just had to ramble while I had some form of capability to recognize all the things that are wrong with me. He knew I've been unhappy. He didn't know I feared him that much. He knows I'm not in love with him. He didn't know it had been years since I'd felt anything at all.
I'm tired. Tired of doing the right thing because it's the right thing to do. I know I'm a terrible person for that. All this is selfish. I know that. I don't deny it; what's the point? He said only a terrible person would NOT do the right thing, but to me it's the same. If wanting to is the same as doing, I am as bad as the next. I just want to be happy. I can't even remember the last time I was happy. Not an evening out with friends or even a date with +Kyle. Those are bandaids when what I need is chemo. I mean *happy*.
He begged me to stay, to keep giving him another chance, reminding me that he IS trying. He knows the decision is made. He knows it's not because I feel anything for him, but because it's the right thing to do. He knows I'm unhappy. He knows my motives are not out of desire, but obedience. He knows my heart's not in this. Yet, he wants to get back to where we were, and believes it's possible. "If it takes another six years to unlearn this stuff, it's worth it," he says. I agree in principle, but I admit that it's a reluctant agreement.
We set some goals for the next two months. One, when one of us starts on a "I don't deserve you, etc." kick, the other to step in and gently correct. Two, to stop assuming the worst immediately. To, when something seems amiss, stop, and say, "I'm not going to get upset about this yet. There's probably a good explanation, and I'm going to ask first." I guess this is a good thing to do.
I woke up this morning, and for the first time, +Kyle was the one rolled over on the other side of the bed. I don't know what to make of this. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's something.
All I know is this is far from over, and it's a battle I gave up on a long time ago. I'm already defeated because of my beliefs, so why bother?
Unlocked Friday's post about the cut, since he knows. It's going to scar; my skin is just too thin for something so deep.
I have no sense of coherency about last night, save that I told him I want out. Everything I do, I do for him. I know what I mean to him, and that's the only reason I've stayed...that and this bloody conscience and "fear of the wrath of God" and whatever else. And spite at all the people who said we would never work out. At first, it was out of love. Now, obligation. I told him my realization of having given up on us years ago...to having resigned myself to, "This is the way life is with him, I made a vow, so I'm stuck, so I'll just have to learn to deal."
I told him about years of living in fear for what he would do or say if I told him that something - anything - was wrong. He had a hard time grasping that, since what I've been telling him *lately* (which is true) is that he's doing so much better.
I acknowledged...thanked...him for *trying*. I know he's making efforts. I just told him I didn't know if I wanted those efforts to be made.
He couldn't talk much. One, he was just speechless from all this. He did apologize unendingly for putting so much pressure on me. For dragging me out to Oklahoma. For my being the only one really working. For not doing even little things around the house.
Two, I just had to ramble while I had some form of capability to recognize all the things that are wrong with me. He knew I've been unhappy. He didn't know I feared him that much. He knows I'm not in love with him. He didn't know it had been years since I'd felt anything at all.
I'm tired. Tired of doing the right thing because it's the right thing to do. I know I'm a terrible person for that. All this is selfish. I know that. I don't deny it; what's the point? He said only a terrible person would NOT do the right thing, but to me it's the same. If wanting to is the same as doing, I am as bad as the next. I just want to be happy. I can't even remember the last time I was happy. Not an evening out with friends or even a date with +Kyle. Those are bandaids when what I need is chemo. I mean *happy*.
He begged me to stay, to keep giving him another chance, reminding me that he IS trying. He knows the decision is made. He knows it's not because I feel anything for him, but because it's the right thing to do. He knows I'm unhappy. He knows my motives are not out of desire, but obedience. He knows my heart's not in this. Yet, he wants to get back to where we were, and believes it's possible. "If it takes another six years to unlearn this stuff, it's worth it," he says. I agree in principle, but I admit that it's a reluctant agreement.
We set some goals for the next two months. One, when one of us starts on a "I don't deserve you, etc." kick, the other to step in and gently correct. Two, to stop assuming the worst immediately. To, when something seems amiss, stop, and say, "I'm not going to get upset about this yet. There's probably a good explanation, and I'm going to ask first." I guess this is a good thing to do.
I woke up this morning, and for the first time, +Kyle was the one rolled over on the other side of the bed. I don't know what to make of this. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's something.
All I know is this is far from over, and it's a battle I gave up on a long time ago. I'm already defeated because of my beliefs, so why bother?
Unlocked Friday's post about the cut, since he knows. It's going to scar; my skin is just too thin for something so deep.
