Low Point

I know.  Another disappearing act.  I owe some people emails.  I will try to get to them, but hopefully this will hold you all until I do.

L didn’t last.  In fact he didn’t last long after my last post here.  He was… incredibly wrong for me.  He is a racist, and that isn’t something I can handle.  The really stupid thing, though, is that he admitted it to me when we first considered having a D/s relationship.  He admitted it outright and I went forward anyway – I made excuses.  I told myself I was being compassionate and trying to understand why he had those feelings and where they came from.

DJ says I need to stop doing that, and he’s right.  He says it’s okay to just walk away from people…  I don’t have to find the good in everyone.

Racism wasn’t L’s only flaw.  But my flaws kept me with him far longer than I should have… in fact I should have left the night he told me about his issues with “the Mexicans and Pakistani”…  I definitely should have left after he made comments to DJ about those useless “Indian people.”

I should have left when I offered to make him a gift for his birthday since I was broke and he instead sent me his Amazon wishlist.

I should have left the night my uncle had a heart attack and L wanted to have sex.  Seriously?  Who does that??

I did leave when I tried to talk to him about the issues and he became defensive and brittle.

I ended our friendship when he made yet another racist comment.

But why did it take all that?

Why did I make excuses for why he was pushing sex while my uncle was in surgery?  I took the blame on myself for not saying “no” but for God’s sake, I shouldn’t have HAD to say no!

He said he cared about me, but I don’t believe he did.  I didn’t feel cared for, I felt used and objectified.  I feel he cared about himself.  But because I kept trying to be a “nice person” I played into it.

I need to stop doing that.

Adele didn’t like him.  Hi Adele!  🙂  DJ says I should listen to you, and to him – he says “we have better radar for assholes” (meaning you and him).  I think my radar is fine – I just talk myself out of believing the data I’m getting.

I went back on Fet lately.  A guy started private messaging me.  He was weird.  He made all my alarms go off.  He was needy and clingy and would write five messages while I was at work each day and freak out because I hadn’t answered him.  He sent a friend request (while I was at work) and withdrew it within the space of three hours, deciding that I didn’t like him (because I hadn’t responded in three hours – while I was at work.)

I learned something new – I learned about a “soft no.”  I do that a lot.  I just respond very sparsely and do not show interest in the other person and hope that they have the social intelligence to understand I’m not interested in him instead of me having to say it outright.

This guy didn’t get that.

I finally let him “friend” me on Fetlife because I told myself he was harmless, just desperate and socially awkward.

Then he turned into a crazy person.  He started going off about how BDSM is an addiction like smoking – and that I am wrong for how I am – and then he deactivated his account.  But he contacted me on another account (what we call a “puppet”) to rant at me about how I never asked him anything about himself.  I blocked that account.  So he made a third one to get around my block of his first two and made nasty comments on my profile – so I blocked him a third time and reported him.

Fetlife deleted all his additional accounts.  Now he’s going to my friends to complain about me.  Hilariously, since they are my friends, they keep coming back to me to tell me what he’s doing.

But the moral of the story is – I knew he was “off.”  My radar was working.  My alarms were ringing.  And I not only didn’t tell him to shove off – I allowed him to “friend” me because I convinced myself it wasn’t really his fault.

I haven’t tried or even wanted to kill myself for four months.  DJ says it’s not a coincidence that this coincides with M’s absence from my life.  I wish I could just stop missing him.  I wish I could just stop caring.  I wish I didn’t hurt from him anymore.  I’m tired of hurting and it makes me want to hate him even though everything in me wants to say I don’t believe in hating anyone… I want to hate him.

And I want to hate the man at my work who makes me batshit fucking crazy on a DAILY BASIS.

I got into a fight with him yesterday.  I’ve never been so unprofessional at any job in my life, but I got into an actual, voices-raised, argument in front of all of my co-workers…  I actually had to walk out of the building to get myself calmed down.  My boss sent me home and told me not to come back until Monday.  I guess I’ve traded literal suicide for career suicide.  Maybe they’ll both end up in the same place in the end.

I feel like all I am is anger and tears anymore.  It’s all there is inside of me.  I vaguely remember a time when I felt like I had a reservoir of peace and rationality and patience and compassion.  I think I remember even feeling happy sometimes… but it’s like a distant and increasingly foggy memory.  Now every day is tears or anger so intense I can’t control myself.  I’m not sure what’s happening to me.  I’ve even considered I might have a brain tumor or something.  Something is wrong with me.

My therapist says that anger comes from not addressing my needs.  I didn’t eat or sleep this week – I ran out of food, and… I just… didn’t bother to go to bed or even change my clothes.  I managed to get into the shower this week and go to work and I was trying to pretend that I’m okay, but clearly I’m not – I shouted at my co-worker.  No matter what kind of entitled, asshole, rat bastard moron asshole (yes, it bears saying twice) he is… I shot MYSELF in the foot by confronting him like that.  I’m smarter than that.  Or I thought I was.  I just can’t control anything in my life anymore.

My boss said I need to take three days and cook food and do laundry and take care of myself so I can be a better person at work.  But I didn’t.  I sat on my ass all day and tried not to think about the wreck of my life.

DJ came over tonight and made me shower and put in a load of laundry.  Now he’s making me write here.  But I don’t feel like it’s helping.  I don’t feel the anger abating – nor the pressure of grief receding…

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