I have a lot of work to do. I’ve been consciously working on myself for the last few months. I started over again, two years after my last re-start, with a new job, a new home, and a new city. I started over alone this time. I’ve had my own head to deal with and I lost the ability to fight it, so I dove in.
There are some things I need to change. I’m terrible with dishes. Seriously, the sick is so full right now I can’t believe there are still plates in the cabinet. It helps that I have four sets though. I’m not entirely sure where the pile came from either. I don’t cook. I only check my mail once a month. The postman hates me. I get angry notes that the box is full; to which I say, stop with the junk! and it won’t fill up so fast. I should also reevaluate my use of semicolons.
There are some important things I need to change. I’ve been mulling over this for a bit. I try and I fail. I work to be calm and rational, and then get irate and irrational. I attempt non-confrontational dialogue, and then get confrontational. Six Flags hasn’t a roller-coaster with as many ups and downs as my head and heart.
I read a post yesterday that helped put some clarity into an area I haven’t realized I needed to look into: my ego. I keep asking, why did he do that to me and why is he doing this to me? I’m stuck in victim-mode even though I claim to be a survivor. Yes, I’m a survivor. I survived Donkey throwing me through a door. I survived Donkey coming after me with a knife. I survived a night in psychiatric incarceration. I survived turning over custody to my abuser even though I wanted and prayed for death. But I’m still in the mindset of victim.
Why did he treat me that way? I can’t answer that and I need to stop trying. Nothing about his behavior was really about me. It was about him. He wanted to feel superior. He wanted to be worshiped. He wanted to look good. He wanted to be smarter, better looking, and stronger. He wanted to have the nice truck. He wanted to have the fancy phone. He wanted the zip code. He wanted the clothes. He wanted the recognition. He wanted the power. He still does.
I was, and am, simply his means to his end. Even asking for and taking custody was a means to an end. He gets to look like the hero father, he gets out of four credit card lawsuits, and has a better chance of being awarded bankruptcy as the primary provider for minor children so those credit card lawsuits don’t resurface.
I know no matter how much work I do on my communications with Donkey, it will be a one-way effort. But that doesn’t mean I can’t work to improve my actions and reactions. I’ve deleted most of my cursing since Fuck You flew to Florida. I’m careful now to say I am an angry at the behavior and working towards leaving the anger at the person to myself. It’s a bit of a given, really, and goes without saying. I’m angry. I’m angry at Donkey. I’m angry at Judge Dennis Craig. I don’t think I hate them. I feel sorry for them.
There’s a pattern. He has one and I have one. I want to break mine.