Home.

One thing I've known for certain for pretty much all of my life is that when I'm ill, I long for home.  When I was little I knew where that place was, and despite its terrible flaws it was still home.  As an adult I was surprised to find that I no longer knew exactly where home was.  So I would spend the majority of my adult life longing for a place that quite possibly, for me anyway, doesn't exist.  I've never been able to reconcile this; not physically, and certainly not emotionally.

The closest I've come to being "Home" once moving out of my mom's house at 18 is Mobile, AL.  I had a tiny little apartment, and though not every moment there was perfect, it felt safe, and it felt like a warn welcome every time I walked through the door--no matter how good or bad things were.  It was a safe place for me to be myself, where I could decompress, where I could dream, wish, hope and feel alive.  This is not the case where I am now.  Not even close.

How did I get here?  I got here the same way I got into every bad situation in my life; By pure blind trust.  It's a flaw of mine and one that's gotten me into more trouble than I can tell you.  I give people the benefit of the doubt, take them on their word, and actually believe what they say.  Well, to a point anyway.  The thing is, that 'point' in which I pivot and see the error of my ways is usually far too late to avoid any damage to my life, and to me.

I'll probably always be this way, a far too trusting person.  I'm okay with that, I guess.  But I really wish I were better at assessing and discerning the heart and motives of people BEFORE I get involved.  We all have our flaws, I suppose.

As I wait for the sluggish process of diagnosis beyond the AIH, I'm left far too vulnerable for my liking.  There are days I can't walk well, verging on not at all, and days where lifting my arms to look at my phone is almost too much.  The weakness grows more each day and the doctors I need to see are weeks out of reach since I'll be a new patient.  The waiting is going to end me in the ER at some point, I'm afraid.  But the worst of this is being this sick and living in a place where I know absolutely no one at all.

T only helps around here bare minimum, and as the chores, etc. pile up... I long for the simplicity of the life I had in Mobile, where I didn't have to clean up after another human who refuses to do what's necessary to not live in a dirty, cluttered house.  I can't live this way, so I struggle to pick up the slack.  And I'll tell you, the slack is far far more than what T actually does.

How the hell did he survive on his own?

I have to somehow find my way home--wherever that is.  I know I can keep struggling a little bit to find my way here, to at least hang in there until I'm better---or at least better enough to survive, to move, to do something to help myself.  At this rate I don't know if I can work, which scares that crap out of me.  Disability requires a definite diagnosis, and at this time I don't have one that explains fully how I'm continuing to weaken and become more and more sick.  What can I do if even typing an entry like this makes me shaky and nauseated with weakness?

I want to be well again, to feel good again, to have energy again.  I want to be in a position where I can find my way back home again.

Home.  I just want to be... home.

The Similarities of Day to Day Life.

Or shall we call it "A life of perpetual sameness"?  Either way, I'm going to make damn sure I change this.  I have to.

I've posted enough here for you guys to know where I am at the moment.  Dealing with communication and respect issues from T, issues that make themselves known every day and every night without fail.  You also know by now that my tolerance for this is extremely thin, verging on non-existent.  Notwithstanding innocent goof and human blunders, somewhere in the chaos one has to actually SEE the damage being done.  "I" see the damage because I'm a recipient of most of it, but T sits quietly on the river "Denial" and refuses to move.  Ok.  Whatever.

He doesn't like my bluntness and doesn't want me to say aloud the truth that threatens not only to completely destroy this relationship, but the truth that's destroying my peace of mind, health, and happiness.  He's in blissful ignorance, so I don't have any choice other than to say exactly what's on my mind.

When I'm trying to open a discussion, when I need to point out behaviors in someone that TRULY need addressing, I use non-combative phrases.  I speak of how I feel, what the harmful behavior is, but I don't point fingers, name-call, label, etc., because that approach causes damage as well.  I know how to communicate, as long as people allow me to communicate.

Repeatedly disrespecting me is a huge deal and would be for pretty much anyone.  Not allowing anyone to disrespect me was a lesson only recently learned, so I'm still a little awkward with it and finding my balance and strength when approaching the subject.  I'm getting there.  Now, in the process I've become fairly blunt when I've taken all I can, and all PC is out the window.  I speak my mind now while doing my best to preserve the other person's (in this case T) self-esteem.  I've no interest in becoming what I most despise so won't allow myself to go there.

T believes that when I point out what he does that hurts, offends, and disrespects me.. that it's a form of disrespect and that I shouldn't say anything at all.  But I assure you, that approach NEVER works and is, in fact, quite harmful to relationships and the individuals.  If I shove down my feelings, ignore the disrespect, and take the punches in silence... I will eventually resent that person, and that person right now is T.  No matter how I try to explain this--he doesn't get it and shows no indication of trying to understand or stop the disrespectful behavior.

Again, as I've said many times before, I'm not trying to make T out as a bad guy or to demonize him. He's NOT a bad guy--he's just blind to the things he does and doesn't do that greatly and adversely affect me in so many ways.  I hang in there for the obvious reasons, and I do so because I hold hope very close, hope that he'll see what he's doing so it can be stopped.

I may be a bit foolish for relying on hope this way given my past experiences and hope-filled failures.  But there's no reason NOT to hope.  In fact, hope is the great buffer of all things, isn't it?  Life tends to slip apart when hope is lost.

Damage control: There's been a lot of this with most being unsuccessful.  And I'm no stranger to damage control given past relationships that left me holding the weight of fixing everything.  One person CANNOT fix a relationship, nor can one person break it.  If a relationship is going bad, guaranteed there are TWO people at fault, even if it's the behavior of one and the acceptance of that behavior by the other.  It takes two people to break a relationship and two to repair it; an absolute truth.

Sometimes there are victims, yes, but 'most' victims are willing.  Meaning, when you have a way out of a bad situation and don't get on board with preparing things, and if you stay and suffer the damaging consequences.. then you've willingly participated in that damage.

As for me, I was a willing victim.  I played the martyr in love more times than I like to admit.  My role in a past relationship which did a LOT of damage to my self-esteem, body, etc. I take full responsibility for.  I remained in a bad situation, and though I believed that he and I could fix things I refused to see and acknowledge (for far too long) that the weight of that burden was planted fully on me.  I should've left at the first sign of serious problems.

I should have bailed when the relationship began changing the way I saw myself, how I thought of myself, when it began to depress me and fill my entire world with anxiety.  I should have been my own best friend and stood up for ME.  Instead, I did everything I possibly could to change into the distorted version he wished me to become.  It doesn't take a genius to understand that my acceptance of abuses, be they emotional or physical, would nearly destroy me as a person; I get it NOW, but I didn't get it THEN, not until it was too late and the damage was done.

I had to forgive myself more than the other person, because it was ME who let myself down.  I didn't have my own back, and I allowed everything till nearly the end.  It wasn't until I had a TIA and ended up in the hospital (very shortly after the last blow up) did I realize to what degree I'd been beaten up inside and how it had shattered me.

In the hospital the doctors asked about my level of stress, had I been dealing with major life changes such as a death in the family, financial hardship, and/or a breakup.  That was the first time the lightbulb went on and I began to introspect as I lay in that hospital bed with nothing but the hum of the heater to interfere with what came to me.  The realization was harsh, brazen, and shattering in its truth.  I had to get out of the relationship; I had to let go; and I had to do it to save my life.

This wasn't a comfortable awareness when it came blazing out of the deep recesses in which unpleasant things go to smolder.  But there was nothing I could do, really, but allow it into the light and face what it was, what I'd always known but refused to acknowledge.

So the burning question for most people at this point, after hearing/reading about my experience, the question everyone I knew at the time had is: Why the hell did I stay so long?  I stayed because I was in love with him.  Isn't that why any of us stay in bad or toxic relationships, because of our feelings and our sometimes misguided hopes that he/she will change?

I wouldn't find out until much later, until it was far too late and the damage was taking over my life and destroying happiness, that the person I fell in love with didn't really exist.  If you've read my blogs for a while you've heard me say this, and that's because the realization that I fell in love with a lie is profound and one I struggle with today for obvious reasons: You can't say goodbye to someone who doesn't exist.

The mask slipped and I discovered the truth beneath.

To this day everything about me struggles to reconcile who I thought I loved with who I was actually dealing with.

I believe that this problem of irreconcilable truths, for me, is fanning the flames of what's happening in the current relationship.  While I knew this was a possibility there wasn't any reasonable way to prepare for the experience itself.  On one hand being protective is necessary, but on the other hand.. always being poised in defense isn't a good idea either.

This emotional struggle could end with closure; something I will never have.  I can't say goodbye to someone who never existed, now can I?

Yeah... and therein lies the biggest problem of all.  This fight, this struggle permeates day to day life.  T's disrespect, whether purposeful or accidental permeates day to day life.  Health problems worsen and take over day to day life.  There seems to be no end to this....

Keep Your Word When You Can

Notice the title: "Keep your word WHEN YOU CAN."  See, I'm not unreasonable.  I understand enough of human nature (like most of us) to know that NO ONE is perfect, and if anyone claims to be perfect... RUN LIKE HELL!  Still, one thing that sticks with me long-term is when people break their word because they had no intention of keeping their word to begin with.  Yeah, a big pet peeve of mine.. and here's why...

A person is only as good as their word; don't you agree?  But the HUMAN side of us also understands that there WILL be times when 'shit just happens,' and we have to recognize the difference between us wanting someone to keep their word.. and being a complete and total CONTROL FREAK.  Now that's another pet peeve of mine--control freaks.  But I'll get to the latter in a bit.  Right now, I need to get something off my chest.

Not unlike many, I have a long history of being subjected to those who frequently break their word.  It isn't always presented as a 'promise,' mind you, but it's still important to follow through when you can.  When you can.  Hey, I know all too well how things can change in the blink of an eye, and it stands to reason that when shit happens, things change.  We have to amend the course of our day and intentions and make room for whatever that unexpected change demands from us.  Right?  I mean, this is life on planet earth, folks, so we sometimes have to take a chill pill if something doesn't quite go our way.  Seriously.

In the past I've been held to an unbelievably rigid set of rules when it comes to relationships.  Needless to say, I've ended up with a couple of complete control freaks who attempted (with some success, unfortunately) to micromanage my life and time; totally fault, because I allowed it to happen.  But given that information, there is also the other side to this coin, and that's the real point.  At some point you have to at least make every effort to keep your word, even when it's inconvenient.

Last night, right before bed, I learned T broke his word to me on something and failed to tell me about it, failed to discuss it with me, and most importantly.. he didn't bring the problem to my attention so we could talk about the decision that HE would ultimately make.  The actual subject matter doesn't matter, trust me, so I'm focusing on the act itself, which is really the most important part.

Bottom line: if you're going to tell me you're going to do something, either DO IT or talk to me about why you can't, won't, etc.  How is that difficult?  It's really not.  In my case, I can completely understand when something doesn't happen the way I expect it to.. if people TALK to me about it!

Last night was a mess, a complete and total mess.  Feeling disrespected has become a part of my life again, and with it nastiness from the past.  I don't like the parallels, though this situation is really more about someone's utter emotional and moral laziness than actual cruelty.  No, the cruelty was the past situation, by far.

My past situation, as you guys know by now if you've read my other blogs, was very dark, very toxic, especially at the end.  I was held accountable for everything that went wrong in the relationship, and I was also held responsible for FIXING everything that was wrong in the relationship.  And according to him, "I" was what was wrong; who I am, who I want to be, how I lived, what I liked/disliked, and virtually EVERYTHING about me... was all wrong (according to him) and needed 'fixing.'  Without repeating how damaging that was to me, I will say that the experience opened my eyes to a few things, including (but not limited to) the unreasonable expectations of selfish people.

The unreasonable expectations of selfish people.

It took me a long time to say those words.  I don't like slapping labels or judgment on anyone, especially someone I love/d.  And I very much did love that person at the time.  I loved him so much I was blind to what was happening, to what and who he really was, and how utterly controlled I was during that time.  The idea that so much could be demanded of me never occurred to me in the beginning.  The idea that I would be shackled to everything I said never occurred to me.  The idea that there was NO ROOM for error, NO ROOM for life, NO ROOM for 'shit to happen' also never occurred to me.  I was utterly blinded by emotion.  And yet, I did everything in my power to agree to everything, and to push myself beyond what was reasonable in order to accommodate his every wish and command.

Over time, and as my health became worse, the narrative began to change, and my own personal story with it.  Sick, tired, in desperate need of rest, sleep, peace, tranquility.. I continued to do what was asked.  Over time, the toll on my body, mind, self-esteem, all of me really, was severe and debilitating at times.  And eventually... I didn't feel good at all.  My happiness and joy dulled and faded into nearly nothing.

The valuable lessons learned:

Love yourself enough to expect people to keep their word to you WHEN THEY CAN.
Love THEM enough to know they're human and shit happens sometimes.
Love...
Just love...

Last night was, in part, a by-product of recent history.  I'm not allowing myself to be controlled, either by force or by coercion.  And yes, I know the difference ALL too well; this is a good thing, btw.  I can recognize when people are doing their best, when they're trying, and I can also recognize when they're being total lazy assholes.  And guess what, ALL of us have our moments of being total lazy assholes.  Humility says... don't be so damn self-important that you think YOUR needs exceeds that of another.

Involve the other person in the dialogue when things change IF you have any warning that they will change.  Involve that other person in the dialogue when, even AFTER the fact, you can't keep your word for any reason.  But dammit, be freaking PATIENT, because honestly.. the world doesn't evolve just around you (using the word "You" loosely here, folks).

I recognized last night the extent to where the dialogue didn't include me, leaving me to once again feel disrespected to a large large degree.  I wasn't included when things changed, was told nothing at all.  In fact, the worst of it was that I know had "I" not brought the subject up... it wouldn't have been brought up at all.  And let's be clear, there was a timeline on this situation.

No, I'm not prepared to be unreasonable about this or any other thing, and I will still continue to make respect one of the most important factors in ANY relationship I have with ANYONE and everyone.  And it really has to go both ways.

I got it out of my system and spoke my mind.  T understands full well what happened and how NOT keeping his word or involving me in the dialogue when things change makes ALL the difference between treating me with respect or not.

It's a tiresome topic, really, and I'm not saying the actual topic of respect is tiresome.  Rather I am saying that I shouldn't have to always be asking for respect and pointing out the lack of it.  I also know that, like the past situation, if I keep quiet and say and do nothing for myself, then I'm doomed to allow the damage to continue, to lose my self-esteem and self-respect in the process.  And you know what?  I'm just not willing to go there again.

Keep your word when you can.

Honesty has become a vulnerability.  People who speak their minds honesty are often faced with ridicule and contempt by those who have opposing views. I believe most of us get this and have experienced that ridicule first-hand.  While a valuable lesson, that ridicule and backlash, while it reminds us how we should choose our words carefully, we must always remember that honesty is STILL the best policy, and that lying by omission... is STILL lying.

A friend who reads all my blogs, and I mean every entry (bless her heart), sent me a message and said, "I don't know how you do it. Aren't you scared of haters bashing you?"  Well, no.. I'm not.  I refuse to allow haters and bullies to dictate how I think, behave, react or don't react to any given situation.  I mean, once you give away your power it's really hard to get it back.  It's best not to give your power to another to begin with.

I've relinquished my power to haters and bullies in my past.  My entire life, up until about 3 years ago, I learned to suppress my feelings, to bury anger deep, to hide the foundations of any feelings I had.  Not to say I wasn't emotional, because BOY was I ever.  I wore my emotions on my sleeve for the entire world to see.  But when it came down to recognizing for more than a second what created those emotions, and when it came down to standing up for myself, that's where everything fell apart, and it did so because I was taught early on that having those emotions.. was a bad thing.

I no longer think that, and because I no longer think that I FEEL more intensely those emotions I used to keep in check to the point of denial.  It's been a liberating process, being able to access feelings like that.  I don't have to apologize to anyone for having those feelings, and I reserve apologies now for when I HANDLE those feelings badly; thankfully this is seldom an issue.  So when someone writes me and is worried because I allowed the emotions and thoughts etc to flow freely on the pages here, or in my other blogs, I DO take into consideration what they're saying, but I also take into consideration that I've come a very long way to not only reach my feelings and access them more fully than before, but that it's MORE than OKAY to express them.

There is a danger to being honest.  There's a danger in speaking freely at times.  There's a risk that you won't please one person or another person, etc.  Not everyone is going to like what I'm saying.  But so what?  There will be those who DO, and it's with those people that the unspoken camaraderie is expressed and felt.  What I say, what I express, actually has helped people, and it's certainly helped me.  So I've no intention of changing this, just so everyone here is clear on where I stand.

I will accept the dangers of honesty and continue to be honest, sometimes bluntly, and I will take into consideration the edges honesty has by definition.  I'm not out to hurt anyone, and this is why I name NO names here as to whom I'm speaking about.. IF I'm speaking about someone else.  It occurs to me that having to say this means I'm still aware, very aware, of the risks I take.  But it doesn't matter.. I'm not here to write fiction or make things look better or worse than they actually are.

I'm going to be myself, haters and bullies be-damned.  No one should give up pieces of themselves for others to devour, and that's exactly what you do when you censor your words, thoughts, and feelings in a place or forum where you're there to speak your mind.  People can choose to read or not read, listen or not listen.  Actions are a choice.

So to my friend, though we've spoken about this at length--I hear you.  And I'm okay.  I'm okay with what any hater or bully thinks about me, because I don't answer to them.  And.. you shouldn't either.

It Was Real the Entire Time, and You Didn't Believe Me

This is basically a PART II to the previous entry, just in case you're confused as to where I'm going with this.  This week, particularly today, damage from my past has surfaced, and partly due to seeing my life in a different way post-diagnosis (Autoimmune Hepatitis).  My recent diagnosis isn't the only reason, but it's a huge part of it for sure.  You see, in my last relationship I wasn't believed when I said I was sick, that I was SO tired, that my whole body hurt, that I really just didn't feel good at all.  I wasn't believed, and I was scoffed at, mocked, and ridiculed for having the audacity to talk about my failing health, even blamed for it happening.

It began with a few issues with my heart, some of it I'd been dealing with my entire life.  Mitral Valve Prolaps, for example, and progressed to a degree that I now have moderate-severe regurgitation that has to be monitored now every 6 months with cardiac echo, and it was confirmed that the regurgitation has worsened even from a year ago via cardiac catheterization, where it was then still at the moderate level.  Now they monitor for any changes that may indicate I will need a new valve.  I was also diagnosed with Diastolic Dysfunction, Grade II.  Even my Hepatologist said, "You realize that's a form of heart failure, right?"  I nodded my head and acknowledged that, yes, I did know.

In 2013, in January I was hospitalized with chest pain, where they discovered that I had mild pulmonary hypertension and that the regurgitation had progressed to the moderate stage.

In 2013, in March I had a TIA (Transient Ischemic Attack, aka Mini Stroke), and then they had no clue it was due to one or all three of the heart arrhythmias I had, something that wouldn't be found until January 2013 after I'd gotten insurance.  I knew of one heart rhythm disorder, but I didn't know what it was called.  I'd had it since I was a kid, though.  It's called SVT or Supraventricular Tachycardia.  They also found Atrial Fibrillation (AFib), which they say caused my TIA, and Atrial Flutter, which also could've played a role in the TIA.  All of them could play a role, so I was told.

In July 2014 I had Cardiac Catheter Ablation for the arrhythmias and have remained mostly arrhythmia free, with the exception of a few Atrial Runs and PACs.

My symptoms over the last few years were often debilitating, with terrible pain in muscles, joints, chest, issuing and worsening weakness in body, and the feeling of just being 'sick' all of the time.  On occasion, and for a short time I would come out of that and feel nearly normal.  Then out of the blue it would hit again and take me out at the knees.  I didn't have health insurance so didn't run to the doctor for anything unless I was forced.  I had no idea at the time what was happening...

I knew something was very wrong, knew that the way I felt wasn't normal at all and more like what maybe a 90 yr old would feel like if they were in bad health.  No, seriously.  Not kidding about that.  But while I was in that other relationship I wasn't believed, was scoffed at for having the gall to mention how bad I felt, etc.  I was under enormous stress from that situation, which made things far worse than they really needed to be.

And yes, I was told it was in my head, 'psychosomatic' even, as if anyone in that situation had any degree to make a diagnosis.  My symptoms were waved away, dismissed, and ignored.  I was ridiculed and made to feel unwanted because I was 'sick' a lot of the time, and yet I wasn't allowed to take the time I needed to take care of myself, to sleep, to eat without anxiety or guilt, to just relax into my life the way others are able.

On that side of the fence in that relationship I was enduring a lot of criticism, and I'm sitting here today wondering how people, anyone, especially someone who claimed to love me.. could do that, to not be one of my advocates, a person who lifts me rather than tears me down.

The finding of AIH recently has opened old wounds, and I'm angry that I was treated like shit because I felt bad so much of the time, told that I wasn't any fun, couldn't keep up, wasn't worthy of his time, attention or love, not even worthy of respect because... I was harshing his mellow, so to speak.  How dare I be sick when it wasn't any fun for him?  Yeah, it was actually like that.

I'm sad too, though.  I'm sad because then I believed the lies, the confessions of love that wavered and didn't really ring true now that I look back.  I was left to feel inferior, like a burden because I couldn't put a name to what was wrong with me.  To tell you the truth, even had I known it wouldn't have mattered to him at all.  He couldn't be with someone who was sick, even if it were temporary.  Okay, so I really dodged a bullet on that one, I agree completely.  But did it HAVE to be so bad?  WHO treats someone like that anyway?  Rhetorical question, of course.

The wounds have reopened.  I'm sure it's for a reason, because even now I can view this from another perspective.  But it's stirring the gears of that damaging machine again, this I can tell you.  And I'm pissed off, I am, but I can view that as a positive in that here I am making my way through the stages of grief again, and maybe that this time I'll be mad enough to get right through to the end and stay in the mode of... acceptance.

But I have to tell you what it's like to have this knowledge of my health now while looking back in the recent past at the few who decided that I was either lying, or that it was all in my head.  I'm disgusted as I think about that.  I'm not impressed with the lack of empathy, how the few decided they were to put on their little doctor hats and play hospital with MY health.

Gas lighting, the dangerous way...

It has occurred to me, even after much discussion about gas lighting, that it was actually being used on me with regards to my own health, my body, and in ways that was absolutely NOT in my best interest.  Well, gaslighting is never in anyone's best interest but for the narcissist who uses that tactic, which most of them do.

I was ridiculed and scolded repeatedly, made to doubt, to feel shame about my talking about just how bad I was feeling, physically.  I was told and told it was in my head, that it was 'psychosomatic,' that a 'psychic' was consulted who said the same thing, that it was all psychosomatic and in my head.  I was told that and told that, and those burnt offerings were tossed upon me at every turn.  The result was intense stress and anxiety, self doubt turning to self-hate as I began to believe what I was told.

It was all wrong.  He was wrong.  Time and time again he was wrong, and those involved in the situation, in MY private life were just wrong.  And even now it makes me angry, though I wasn't angry at the time.  In fact, I couldn't even feel anger and hadn't for some time; another issue my therapist was trying to help me with.

They were all so very wrong.

Today as I feel the AIH symptoms ebbing, as I feel the side effects of the serious medications to suppress my immune system come on board, as I go for weekly blood draws to assess what the medications are doing to my body, as I look at the future and tell myself this is going to totally stop my liver from developing cirrhosis, as I look at how my life is radically different, how my future is uncertain, and look back at how bad I was made to feel over things I couldn't control... I'm both angry and sad.  And the little voice in my head just says.. It was real.  It IS real.

I wonder how differently things would have been for me had I not had the additional stress, anxiety, and resulting depression?  How different would things be right now with my health had I not been put under SO MUCH unnecessary scrutiny, judgement, and ridicule.  Would the AIH have been in remission and stayed?  Would it have come back as badly as it had?  Would I have had that TIA in less than a week after the big fight with my ex?

Being treated better wouldn't have cured the AIH, and it may have just prolonged the flare that would eventually have brought about a diagnosis.  But stress and anxiety DOES make AI disease flare, so it's best to be avoided when possible.  It would've been nice to have had that person on my side, to have been comforting rather than hateful, rather than judging me for being sick in the first place, maybe to have had compassion, enough that inspired concern rather than ire.  Maybe the extraordinary stress from the fight in April wouldn't have happened had there not been this need in him to hurt me repeatedly... I don't know.

What I do know is that I look back and feel disgust for a few people who decided that they knew my body, my health better than I did.

I'll get over the anger I feel right now, the disappointment, the confusion that seeps in through the cracks despite my best effort...

Today is just not that day, I guess.

Comparisons Only Do Harm

Don't compare yourself to others.  No matter how hard it is to refrain from that, most of us do that very thing and wonder later why we feel so damn bad.  We're all unique, lovable, deserving of respect, beautiful.  Now, even I don't believe this most of the time, but it doesn't mean I don't remind myself of this when I start to feel 'less-than.'  And if you've emerged from a past stricken and scarred by a someone who took great joy in comparing you to others, then you have a little more work ahead of you.

Finding out I have an autoimmune disease, in this case one that wants very much to destroy my liver (Autoimmune Hepatitis), has changed everything for me.  How I live, what I do, who I'm around, where I go, all of those everyday things people take for granted has to be approached with a great deal of thought and discretion now.  My life is different, but it's still MY life, which means I get to choose how to live it from one moment to the next.

My past contains enough sharp edges that, more often than not, continue to cut.  Not having dealt with to completion the necessary steps to find my way out of that past darkness does have its drawbacks, so all I can do is navigate as best I can in hopes the wounds won't be reopened, or even that new ones won't be created.  We can't run from our past, and I can't think of a single reason anyone would want to.  As bad as it may be, we still need to remember, always remember what we went through so we can recognize the danger signs and steer clear of repeating the same mistakes over and over again.  For me, I have made the mistakes repeatedly, but only because I didn't get the proper help to recognize WHY it was happening, and to also recognize any current situation that is dangerous to me, my spirit, my peace of mind, my life in general.

A more recent past experience still wreaks havoc on who and what I am, and it sometimes, oftentimes, defies all inner reason and threatens to steal away my joy whenever it comes.  I'm not in full control over this yet, though I'm trying very much to get a handle on things.  Working towards healing is like that, you know.  It doesn't happen overnight or in a few minutes, and anyone telling you that's the way healing works.. is lying.

The echoes of the past still whisper to me if I'm not very careful to replace that voice with another.  Someone I dearly loved and trusted betrayed my trust in more ways than I can tell you.  The comparisons alone were damaging all by themselves, and to this very day I hear those words again and again, because while I was with that person I heard those very words... again and again.  It's going to take a minute to heal from that.

"It's not mean if it's true!"  If I had a dollar for every time I heard this.

Even IF something is true it can still be mean to say it, comment on it, or judge whatever it is.  And you also have to know if it's actually TRUE or not, have the ability to recognize the difference between your OPINION and actual fact.  Case in point, telling someone they're stupid, a moron, etc., making fun of them either for their age, weight, height, choice of clothing, and so on... is mean.  Is is less mean to tell an elderly person they're "old" or "wrinkled" or even "incontinent" okay?  Is it nice to say it though it may be true?  Is it 'nice' to tell a mentally retarded person that they're mentally retarded?  Is it okay to tell someone who has a physical disability that impairs their ability to walk like everyone else.. that they walk funny?  No.  NONE of that is okay.  Nor is it okay to make judgments of that person when you're really speaking just opinion.  Keep it to yourself, because IT IS MEAN.

Enter the comparisons...

This tactic of a narcissist, btw, is a common one.  When you don't meet their overblown and unreasonable criteria you're completely fair game for un-called for scrutiny, criticism, judgment, and character assassination.  At first it's subtle, insidious in nature.  Later, as the narcissist becomes comfortable and feels you're hooked in, the once-veiled comparisons bundled with insults become bolder, louder, and more extreme.  Eventually, the comparisons will be point-blank as the narcissist gets more comfortable with the idea that he is somehow right.

You'll be compared to their ex's, family members, friends, or people they want you to know is interested in them.  This is across the board, btw.

I could go into great bloody detail with this, but not today.  I spent the better part of a couple of years trying NOT to be me at the insistence of that person, the one who criticized, ridiculed, then resorted to blatant attacks on who and what I am as a person.  It was a long, drawn-out event that had me scrambling to be, in effect, someone else entirely.  And the result?... disastrous.  Absolutely disastrous.  In time I barely recognized the woman in the mirror, and as time passed and the onslaught continued... I began to miss the person I was, because she remained beneath the surface, suffocating, crying out for help with no one to hear.

I'm still saving that part of me, still trying to heal the wounds.  And I still remember the length I allowed myself to go to in order to please that other, otherwise, un-pleasable person.  I allowed him to talk me into dissolving all I was.  BIG BIG mistake.

The physical effects began to happen immediately.  I no longer looked like the happy person I was prior to that relationship (for lack of a better word).  I could see in the mirror, and in photos, how much sadness there was in my eyes after about six months or so, but I didn't put it together until much, much later.  By the time I was shown what it was I was dealing with, so much of me was broken, shattered, and confused.  To this day I still seek to repair the damage, and I struggle with it every day, day in and day out.  And I still wonder why the hell it happened to me.

I have to talk about this.  It's the only way to deal with it.  In my everyday life I don't talk to anyone about this now.  In fact, I don't talk about it with anyone anymore, which is one reason it pours on the pages across my blogs, some days more than others.

Where do I find healing?  I know it's not in the form of denial.  I know it's not in the form of sugar-coating the experience.  I know it's not like I can wish it away like it never happened.  It DID happen, and it actually continues to happen still, because the way it happened, the damage it did, and the way it ended was insidious for the most part and cruel as hell.

Letting go:

What nice words, huh?  "Letting go" sounds like something easy, a walk in the park, a piece of cake, something anyone can do.  Right?  Wrong!  Actually letting go takes closure, time, patience, and a complete understanding of what happened and my role in the situation and in the healing itself.

Where it all falls apart for me is the mirror.  When I look I see that other me, the sad one, the bewildered one, the one who was taught to NOT TRUST her own instincts, her own vital truth.  That's what I see.  I don't know at the moment how to change this, and the damaging effects are still continuing.  I know I'm going to have to return to therapy, and I'm not apologizing for that, nor am I going to feel bad or 'less than' for that.  The situation wrecked me, and I'm at least smart enough, strong enough to admit that I need help dealing with the damage I incurred.

Many days I have nothing to say on this matter, and some days it's a flood of thought, emotion, and so on.  Like today.  I know what's triggering this, and I'm just going to roll with it for now.  In ways I'm still hurt that so much was ignored and missed and scoffed at, so much that's come to light over the past couple of years.

That's another topic for another entry...  Yeah, I'm definitely on a roll today... purging the demons.

Gas lighting

NOTE:  I will occasionally state a reminder that when I'm referring to narcissists I will usually use the words "he" or "him" etc., because that's my experience.  Unless I'm referring to my mom, of course.  But do know that I know and understand that narcissists can be either male or female.  My stating things in terms of 'he' is only speaking to my own personal experience.

Funny thing about the parallels of abuse in life.  Right now we have a tightly-wound political climate in which history, though a dark version of itself, is being made by the worst president to have ever held office in US history.

What is Gaslighting?  Well, first of all, let me say first the term comes from an old b/w movie starring Charles Boyer and Ingrid Bergman... where she ( was being systematically driven crazy, or made to think she was, by her controlling conman of a husband.  Oh, but it goes far deeper than that, really.  Far deeper.  It's an insidious tool used by all masters of emotional/verbal abuse.

Gaslighting or gas-lighting is a form of mental abuse in which information is twisted or spun, selectively omitted to favor the abuser, or false information is presented with the intent of making victims doubt their own memory, perception, and sanity.

OMG, but have I experienced this first-hand, and it's THE worst form of emotional abuse someone could endure.  How did I know this tactic was being used on me?  Because I had to seek counseling to recover from a relationship in which gaslighting was routinely used on me.  I had no idea, until it was shown to me by a therapist who immediately recognized what I was describing.  Thank God for her!

All the pieces fit.  I saw everything fall neatly into place as my therapist explained to me what gaslighting is, what it does, and how damaging it is for the receiver.  I was stunned as she spoke, a little numb as I read the handouts she gave me to look over, and more recently... shaken a little as I watched the movie ("Gaslight") where the term actually came from.  OMG, I thought, I'm watching so much right there on the screen.. so much that I actually went through.

But it's really more than that, folks.  You have to be aware of gaslighting and knowing where you are in the narcissistic supply food chain.  Once you recognize you're with a narcissist, you can get to the task of knowing where you stand so you can find your way out.  Remember, you've been conditioned to believe that the narcissist is the only person who will want or have you, that they're a true gift from God himself, and that you are damned lucky to have them.  Don't you believe it!

So many red flags, so little time.  But if you remember that you're solely in that person's life for THEIR benefit, then you will be able to spot the red flags and they reveal themselves.

You're not important to them except as a source of supply.  Your needs don't matter, and anything they do for you isn't for YOU but for their ego.  It's a lot like the farmer feeding the calf to fatten it before slaughter.  Once you're consumed, your emotional remains are no longer necessary, needed, or wanted.  Time for a new calf to fatten.

Over time the joys you find in life become a burden to your narcissist.  Why?  Because it's about YOU.  And trust me, it can NEVER be about YOU.  There is only one center of his universe.... and trust me, babe, it's NOT YOU.  And it never ever will be.

Some of the rules you'll have to follow include being available 24/7 in case your narcissist needs you.  It won't matter if your tired, working, hungry, taking a shower, sleeping, eating, talking to friends or family, or just spending some time for yourself by watching tv.  You BETTER be available or pay the price.  There is ALWAYS a price.

I can't tell you how many times I lost sleep, stayed up until 2am or was woken at 2am when I had to be up at 5am or 6am... just so I wouldn't be stonewalled and ignored for days or weeks by my narcissist who didn't respect me OR my time.  I skipped meals, taking a shower at another time, because the narcissist claimed I was being 'selfish' for doing those things instead of talking to him on the phone.  He also didn't allow me to do anything WHILE talking on the phone, so necessary tasks that needed done either had to be put off so I could sit stock-still in one location so he didn't hear any other sound coming through the phone.. to alert him that I was doing anything more than listening to him.  He claimed that if I were doing anything else while on the phone with him I was being disrespectful and not giving him my full, undivided attention.  Thing is... I would hear CRASH, BOOM, BANG, and the cacophony of explosive sounds of paper rattling as he went through all the things he does while on speakerphone with me.  Double-standard... another narcissist classic maneuver.

Not sleeping, eating, having constant anxiety filling your gut, body full of adrenalin... all these things can kill you.  All of these things WILL wreck your health, and they did wreck mine.

You know you're dealing with a narcissist when your health stops mattering, when you lose sleep and they don't care, when being at their beck and call 24/7 means your life isn't your life any longer. When all of your free, waking time and then some is manipulated and filled to the brim with unrealistic demands, constant criticism, massive episodes of gaslighting.... beware, because you're going to withdraw out of necessity for your health and life and your narcissist, if he hasn't already begun doing so, will be looking for his next source of supply.

More to come...

Praise Me

It's the sustenance of all narcissists, and without it they will ruin your world.

Giving praise to my narcissist was easy in the beginning because I saw this funny, handsome, romantic guy who said and did all the right things.  I mean, this is how we end up falling in love, isn't it?  We see their personality traits and love what we see and hear, and over time it endears them to us.  I mean, how can it not?  And I'm not talking about what that person says about who WE are, but rather those things that show us who THEY ARE.  HUGE difference.

Anyone who's been with a narcissist knows that they project this image to the outside world, and to US at first, as exceedingly charming, funny, lovely people!  We discover later on, when forced to learn about narcissists, that this is absolutely necessary for their survival, that they NEED that supply of praise and adulation, even worship.  But we also know that when the mask begins to slip we get glimpse of the other thing lurking beneath, the very thing that will end up devouring our lives, our spirits, our health and vitality, our sense of self-worth.

I still have some fond thoughts about my ex, but in keeping them within proper perspective I know those fond feelings are misplaced, misguided, that they're feelings for an IDEAL.  In many ways this discovery left me to withholding real praise for the person I'm with.  I have to actively participate in my own inner-functions, that is to say I have to be extremely mindful that I'm not purposely holding back for fear of things turning out the same as they did with my narcissist.

Oh, I do know better.  But my current relationship isn't without it's issues, some of them serious.  Be that as it may, I'm in perpetual self-preservation mode.  Not surprising what I've gone through.

My finally speaking openly about my experience with a narcissist has helped me tremendously in more ways than I thought possible.  But I've a very long way to go, and I'm not sure I'm willing to let go of those protective inner resources I've obtained along the way.  I'm sure I still need to talk to a therapist to finish dealing with the experience, and in time I will.

You see, in all honesty, I know I won't ever be the same person again.  Not exactly.  I can repair what's broken, but I can't replace what's gone.  And who knows, maybe what I 'think' is 'gone' is actually just tucked away in a safe place inside, waiting for healing.  I can certainly be on board with such a possibility, because it's far better than having to mourn something totally lost.

Praise.  It's not something I received much of in my life, especially growing up, but it was also something I never really needed.  For me, praise wasn't what I needed, but APPROVAL.  I'm completely aware of this, and I'm somewhat okay with that.  And I'm comfortable with GIVING praise to others.  It actually comes easily for me.  But what of the 'demanded praise' required by a narcissist?

Narcissistic Supply; what an absolutely ugly term to use on oneself.  Yet, I had to.  HAVE to.  If I'm not completely honest with myself about this, I'm lost.  So here I am, realizing that for the person I fell head over heals in love with... I was nothing more than that supply to feed his ego, his bottomless need.

When the emotional abuse became too much, praise for him became exceedingly difficult, then eventually... impossible; We all have our breaking points.  When my usefulness had run out, he began to demand praise--to be right, the authority on all I was and should be, or could never be, the walking encyclopedia of absolutely everything, the expert on my life.  Anything other than acceptance and agreement of all his criticisms of me was met with hatefulness, withdrawal of love, stonewalling, more criticism, usually ending in gas lighting to throw me off balance.  This cycle was never-ending after a time, and it hollowed out the vibrant parts of me with all its energy-sapping and relentless battering.

"You're right" had eventually revealed itself as the bitter lie it was.
"You're amazing" became a weapon he ultimately used against me.
"I love you" became yet another weapon to use against me, and he did it often.
"I miss you" was met with an ugly retort that somehow missing him meant I was "Selfish."
"You're so smart" became one of his favorite reasons to belittle me, with constant 'reminders' of how he was so much smarter.

He required praise, but it was usually tucked away in his arsenal to be used against me whenever the mood struck him---and it often did in just about every situation.

I didn't have to defend myself; but I didn't know this then.  And when I discovered my error in having defended myself for too many years to this person, it was almost too late.  So much damage done.  So damn much damage done.

I guess today is just a day when I'm finding I need to deal with this a bit more, to purge, to get it off my chest.

Now, some of you have asked WHO it is I'm talking about, which of my ex's... well, I'm not saying.  It's not about pointing fingers, but about sharing what I've gone and am going through as a result in hopes it helps someone else.

Now, on to eat some lunch....

Your Value as a Human Being Defined by a Narcissist

In some ways I've avoided thinking about this, knowing if I go there I'll be reminded of how blindsided I was by my narcissist's intentions.  His intentions weren't evident to me because I was so completely thrown off-guard by the hot/cold performances that occurred on a daily basis, and in those times when I did actually have a few minutes to myself to breathe and think...I didn't allow myself to think about anything but the weight that was lifted off of me during the times of his angry absences.

This is the maze of confusion a narcissist creates to keep you off-balance, because if you ever gained your footing... you'd run like hell.

I'd spent the majority of my life re-inventing myself after events that pretty much left my life utterly changed for good.  Back then, while still damaged from the events of my childhood, and still WITHIN my childhood, that constant shifting of who I knew I was and who I was allowed to be didn't change who I was inside.  As my instincts as a child, my inclinations to gravitate towards those things I was meant to embrace, were thwarted by an indifferent and emotionally-absent mother.  Most other parents would recognize how significant my passions were.  But not my mother.  There was a perpetual "No" associated with almost everything I reached for.  I knew what I was, who I was meant to be, and it was a vibrant, bright and burning flame that remained within me for many years.  But it did die out eventually in my early teens, thanks to a mother who made the decision long ago that her needs were more important than her child's.

I was the last of six and born very late--an "accident" as she liked to call me.  I laughed until adulthood about being referred to as an 'accident,' like she fell, hit her head and ended up pregnant, something unintentional that would morph into a walking regret later on.  Still, not quite understanding what that word meant in terms of me, I continued to reach for the stars and fill my small, unassuming life with those things that would lift me, despite the doors she continuously closed without hesitation or thought.

She was my first and most influential exposure to narcissism.

I knew I was a dancer as early as age 4.  I gravitated towards dance, ballet at the time, and music like the proverbial moth to a flame.  I hadn't even started kindergarten and I'd built a fairly large collection of classical music albums of which I played daily.  I danced daily, despite the lack of any classical training, and I begged my mother for lessons...every....single....year until I reached junior high school, when I knew I was long-past the window of realizing my dream.  The days of dancing in the alleyway outside of the ballet studio next to my house were over, as was the begging and pleading and dreaming of such.  My dreams didn't die, but they did shift.

She couldn't say no to dance lessons in school.  And yes, back then schools still did teach the arts.  In 5th grade I was able to take music classes, recorder.. because it was the cheapest route.  The music teacher encouraged me to take up another instrument---clarinet.  My mother actually did, to my surprise, buy me a used clarinet at a local pawn shop, and I eagerly went about learning.  Within about 3 months I was asked to join the school district's 'honor band,' which was for those gifted or accelerating behind the average.  My mom was glad for me, but she remained pretty unimpressed and never came to any of the recitals.

As time went on and I couldn't afford to take my clarinet to get the required 'maintenance'... it finally broke, and my mom simply didn't pursue doing anything about it.  I'd gone through so many changes with music that my mom was oblivious to, even though it happened right before her eyes.  She never noticed when I'd bring home an oboe, a flute, a piccolo... she didn't notice that I could actually PLAY them.  I could play just about any wind instrument put in my hands.

My music teacher, recognizing what was happening with me offered to take me to a symphony.  It was the only one I would ever attend.. at least so far.  I was awed, amazed, and NEEDED to be there, to be a PART of it all.  But it wasn't meant to be anything more than one more door that would slam shut forever.

We moved to Colorado right before I was to begin high school, my clarinet was sold, and my dreams were forgotten and never spoken about again by her.  However, at the age of 14 something else came across my path that would stick with me until adulthood---bellydance.  This was another door my mother closed with a resounding "No," and I wasn't to revisit this particular dream until adulthood, when living on the Mississippi gulf coast I made my first trip to New Orleans where I entered a shop called "Kruz: From Morocco to India."  I was drawn to the little shop on the corner by the music pouring out of its doors, and I walked out changed that day.. forever.

This time was different, and I had no one but myself to close the door, and what I chose to do was run straight through it to the other side.  Within 2 years I was told by many that I danced as if I'd done it my entire life, and people began asking me to teach them.  I taught, and I performed, and my life FINALLY felt exactly right.

After a few years, however, I began to feel progressively weak, tired, and unable to even continue going to the gym.. something I'd done since age 20.  While I'd found ways to work out and exercise prior to that age, the gym experience didn't happen until 20.

My last day of dance practice, when I knew it was over for me happened while living in Jacksonville, FL.  My once 3 hour long and effortless dance practices dwindled to about 20 minutes, and I collapsed on the floor in tears knowing that it would be my last.  I felt it with all I was and saw the signs of it coming for about a year.

My gym membership was canceled, as the strong, vibrant body I once possessed was failing me.  Over a couple of weeks I could lift less and less until I couldn't lift at all.  The easy 30 minutes on the Stairmaster halted altogether.  I hired a personal trainer who, after a few weeks, said I really needed to see a doctor.  Without health insurance, that really wasn't possible.

My trips to the gym ended with me leaving exhausted, pale, and with dark circles under my eyes.  I would get home and sleep for 3 hours straight without waking.  Recovery from exercise became impossible.

We moved again, and I began to not recognize myself anymore, moving for the person I was with at the time, as his job required traveling.  I lived my life through his while trying to find my way.  At this point I returned to writing, something I'd done since early childhood and also was very good at.  I created a couple of web sites, discovered graphic art, web design, and created spaces on the web where my artistic needs could at least somewhat be met.

I won't go into the writing at this point, because this entry has already begun looking like War and Peace.  But it was something I'd always HAD to do, be it poetry or short stories, then later.. beginning novels.  This was somewhat taken away from me when my handwritten manuscripts (I didn't have a computer at first) were 'sold off' by a storage facility where our belongings were stored.  The guy I was with at the time failed to make the payments and didn't tell me.  Years of writing, and SO much more, were bought by strangers.  All my writing was gone along with years of memories in photos, art my kids made for me as they were growing up, and... my life changed yet again.

The chronic fatigue I'd found myself in had begun taking the creative edge off my writing, and about 7 years ago I'd written the last sentence in an uncompleted book.  I've yet to get my muse to return.

The artist within refused to give up and rediscovered something I'd reached for in high school---photography.  I was able to take a class, but my mother said "No" to buying me a used camera and, instead, left me to use the disposable ones.  While my classmates shared information about their impressive 35mm cameras, I simply hung back and clung to the camera whose only capability was left in the parameters set by the manufacturer.  But I kept trying, always finding things to shoot.  Getting close to my subject was impossible, and I had no control over settings.  Frustrated, I did not take another semester.

Fast-forward to now:

A few years ago I finally obtained a REAL camera.  I don't think I ever left the house without it, and I found myself loving the shoots I did at the local cemeteries.  Getting film developed was costly at the rate I was shooting, so I ended up with a used digital camera that eventually gave out as well.  That camera finally gave out and I obtained a cheap digital from Best Buy.  It lasted a couple of years.  I then bought a decent digital from eBay and... well, ended up having to sell that to my BF at the time so I could pay my rent.  Oh trust me, I've left off major life events in this story.  But in the end I was left without a camera.

I'd also discovered OOAK doll repainting, of which I had to give up when moving to Montgomery due to the health issues.  But I have all my supplies, and a brand new camera waiting for me to recover from whatever has been kicking my backside.

So much information, isn't it?  I know.  It is.  And what has all this to do with having your value determined by a narcissist?  That one is actually easy to explain.  You see, when the patterns begin in childhood, when your determination is strong in the beginning and hammered away with over time your sense of self, that balance in your life changes significantly, and many times, though not always, people end up gravitating to those who are most like that which defined us from very early on.  In other words, we gravitate towards those we're most used to.  It's our comfort zone, though it's never actually comfortable.

Over and over again in my life I ended up with people who would ultimately treat me the way my mother did.  Sounds a bit cliche, doesn't it?  Well, maybe it is in some ways, but I think that's mostly due to how many people actually end up in this situation.

PART 2 will address where this ties into narcissists and their need to define your value as a human being.

You're killing everything I feel about you...

Weekends are the worst.  It's when T is home and there's no escape from the relentless indifference, complaining, and overt half-assing anything done.  I suppose it's just easier to talk myself into believing all the excuses I make for him, rather than face the facts head-on and acknowledge what I know with all that I am.  This is one of the greatest discomforts I know in terms of relationships; having to accept when you're holding the entire weight of the relationship on your shoulders.

Fuck that.

I've spent my entire life making excuses for the way some have treated me, and now is no exception.  Haven't I learned enough to know better by now?  Perhaps.  But putting what you know into action isn't always possible when you're in an impossible situation.  My goal of getting my health back is absolutely critical in changing my life, my world, and moving forward out of this absolutely 'stuck' situation I'm in.

I'm grateful for what I have.  I'm grateful I have a place to live.  I'm grateful God has made it so my life isn't a complete train wreck.  As I sit here in the wake of yet another blatant display of compassionless rhetoric from T... I know that things, for me, could be 100% better.  It's getting there that's going to take the most work.

So what's happened?  Well, my son hurt his back and has gone to the ER twice in the past two weeks.  He's been told he'll need surgery, but his insurance won't kick in until January.  He's still able to work, but when the pain is out of control, when it's difficult for him to walk... he misses work.  His boss is great, loves him and the work he does when there.  He's actually a shining star in that respect and has been since day 1 on the job.  But in the meantime, while his wife attends college full-time, while the two kids' needs for school, etc. must be met, paying the cell phone bill plummets to the bottom of the list titled "necessities."  Even I get this.  Still, T has to bitch and complain, while my son and his wife stress.  My son was diagnosed with a bleeding ulcer and high BP almost a year ago, and stress, anxiety is NOT his friend.  To say the least.

We put them on our family plan, because the cost isn't really all that different from when they had their crappy phones on that crappy network they used to have.  But you know what?  Shit happens.  And family is supposed to help family.  My son was there for me SO many times, and now.. it's time for me to be there for him.  He asks for nothing.  He's humble about the situation he's in, and from time to time he's expressed how ashamed he is that things have gotten this way.  I assure him that 'shit happens' and that helping is what family does.  It's always been this way.  He still feels awful, but honestly.. he shouldn't.

When T whines and complains about having to cover their part of the cell phone bill.. it changes how I feel about him.  T's greatest love in his life is money.  It's true.  And while it's all well and good to be practical and do all the right things, financially, it's more important to do the right things by family.  This isn't a long-term situation, so listening to him whine and complain literally kills what I feel for him.  What's left, that is.  Nice job, T.

Have I told him this?  Yes.  Point-blank, up-front, no political correctness, no sugar-coating anything. I'm not cruel or mean about it, but I make absolutely certain that I get my point across.

I've tried to show him how his actions and words, or lack thereof, hurts others.  I've shown him understanding (at first), patience (at first), and have done everything I could to help... always with love and kindness.  I'm now at a place where I no longer am willing to do the work for him.  He's a grown man and has to make up his own mind who and what he wants to be; an asshole, or a good man.  The first takes no effort, while the second takes absolute effort; being attentive to others while also being aware of one's words, deeds, and even motives.

It really all boils down to ONE major thing:  Love is a verb.

So here I sit in the garden of decay, loving T much less each time he chooses indifference, lack of compassion or understanding, every single time he chooses bitching over an act of love.

I'm quickly edging towards feeling absolutely nothing for T.  He knows.  He complains about that, too.  But he refuses to look at himself, what he does and doesn't do, and makes NO effort to be that better person.

I'm so damn tired of this, and I am left completely unimpressed.

I'm turned on by gentlemen, and gentlemanly behaviors.  Leaving one's morality, decency, and humanity completely unchecked is a MASSIVE turnoff for me, no matter WHO you are.