For that is, indeed what I feel that this is all becoming. Maybe it has already been this way, and I'm just now realizing it?
I have realized recently, with full impact, what an unbearable asshole I have become. Owen and I have been fighting like mad the past few days. I believe I said "Get the fuck out" no less than five times yesterday. Directly, it meant "get out of my face", but impliedly, it may as well have meant get the fuck out of my space. My heart, my mind, my life. Things have been so rocky.....
Communication is often a total bust, lately. It began when I told him that I was going to go to therapy again for the first time in ten years. I scrolled around the web, looking at a couple of different people upon a suggestion of a resource in Portland. I found a person I liked, and I scheduled an appointment for this upcoming Wednesday. I don't know what this triggered in him, but suddenly three years of shit was unleashed about how he has been perpetually dissatisfied. We were able to scratch the surface on why, and it is apparently because of my abilities to unwittingly sabotage all efforts of communication with him by being somewhat flighty, distant, or obtuse. It was a hard bit to swallow, but when I held the rock up, I could see the light through it.
I have been an asshole, and a pretty terrible one at that. I have let him feel like his life is less important than mine, that my desires are what is most important, not his. I read the old perzines one more time, the ones about relationships, and I see that I am the anti-hero, the villain of the hero, who are not best friends, but lovers. It makes me sick to be so predictable.
I am not this person, this one that leaves their partner eternally dissatisfied. I am not this person, this one that leaves their partner feeling bitter and worthless to affect meaningful change in their relationship. I am not this person, this one that gleefully shuts down their emotions and deliberately becomes a machine, all in a vain effort of redemption of their life through arduous tasks. Succinctly, I am not my father.
O was telling me about how he had been developing misgivings for two and three years. I asked him why he never said anything, but he said that he had, repeatedly, and that I just chose to never listen. Was it true? How could I know, especially if I never heard? Others have suggested to me that this is true. It is as if I have the filter of a person that ignores their partner almost completely. Completely valid points go unnoticed, real problems are undetected, solutions are never noticed. What is the other person there for? Static?
"I was not always this way!" I say, in some effort to save something of myself.
"Doug, you have been this way ever since we got together. I realized that I must choose to either be alone with myself, or I could be alone with you." I was livid! No chance of rebuttal, no chance of mitigating the past circumstances, no chance of..... accepting it as the truth? All of this has thrown me for some dreadful loop. The whole time, I'd felt attacked for attempting to seek out professional help. If nothing else, O.'s response is a statement that I should have done it sooner.
So, bitterness reigns tonight! I am not prepared to change this. This is going to be harder than I thought. This is not a matter of forgetting to take out the trash tonight. More like having NEVER taken the trash out for over three years. This is going to take an extremely long time.
I have never been more like my father. I don't believe in fairy tales and invisible creators, but I clearly deluded myself into some weird, fucked up consolidation of power in my relationship. I don't like it one bit. This is not how I want to live.
I desperately sought out for handy items, likely tokens for which I can place the blame. "It's just the way I am" and "It's not really my fault that I'm so fucked up". A likely story! I still believe that I am ultimately the one responsible for my behavior. I have a lot of working on my shit ahead of me, because this lapse is intolerable. Communication is the key, and if I can't do it right, then I think that I'm going to have to learn how. I hate the idea of thinking about O waiting for all this time, hopefully being able to catch me in between cycles, or waiting for the minutes when I am actually there, actually present. I feel that I owe him more, but it is clear that I have been unable to deliver.
I know some of what he talks about. The far away look, the inability to focus much of the time during sex, the selfish logic that assumes that my preferences are what comes first, every single time. Some are little things that consistently add up to a be a big thing. Some are big things that have gradually added up until it just seems to be one of the things that Owen has resigned to live with, one of the things that I am scarcely even aware of. I have no attenuation, and I have not been paying attention. I have been cold for awhile, and I have become numb.
I need a blanket to warm me from the chill of my emptiness, I need a blanket to exsultate me, because it is so cold inside. Try not to freeze free-ze: die a jolting phone, cataclysmic in the bone marrow night, I need a blanket to warm me from the chill, of my emptiness, where is sleep to hide me from the fact that you're so absent from my heart? Where is sleep to hide me from the fact that I'm too dead to even care? Hollow are the bones of lonely. I stand hollow. I die... hollow. but I try."
I think that this about sums it up. An apology is nothing. The only thing that matters is action. I've got my work cut out for me.