Emotional vs Logical

10 Nov

I am undecided as to whether or not this is the best time to be writing. By that I mean that I am REALLY struggling and emotional right now. Half of my brain is saying that writing will help to get it out, help me to sort through everything that I am feeling and be able to handle it better. The other half is saying that my being extremely emotional right now is exactly the reason why I should NOT be writing. Whatever I write is less likely to make sense, there are other things that I should be focused on and let’s be honest I am far more likely to write something that I will regret later, even if I really do mean it. I do not know which one I agree with and despite my best efforts and my wishes neither side will shut up a leave me alone. All of that being said I would like to apologize in advance to anyone reading this entry. You are most likely in for a long, confusing, profanity filled read that will leave you wondering what the fuck you just read and whether or not reading it again will help it all make sense or only confuse you more. I am especially sorry about all of that if reading this entry is your first foray into my blog. Regardless I hope that the following entry doesn’t scare you off. I don’t know what else to say, so I guess — deep breath — here goes nothing.

Emotional brain
I’m alone. I’m lonely and to restate my status from my blog’s FB page “Really struggling right now, made worse by the fact that I have to pretend to be ok because I am at work. Don’t know how to express where I am emotionally and doubt anyone could TRULY understand even if the words existed. Add to all of that the fact that I don’t want to socialize with anyone right now, but I really don’t want to be alone. Where does that leave me? In desperate need of the kind of hug that only someone who truly loves you can give with no one to give it to me. 😥 “

Logical brain
I am not alone. I have friends and family who care about me and will help me in any way that they can. I am not the first and most certainly will not be the last to go through any of this and if I was better at math I might actually be able to figure out exactly how many men and women in the world are going through the exact same (not just similar, but the exact same) situation as me.

I can’t stop caring. I can’t stop caring about him, what he thinks about me, how he is going to react to something that I say/do/write/etc. How do I stop it?!?!? He obviously doesn’t care about how the things he says or does affect me. I hate the fact that I care and he doesn’t. I want to hate him and I hate the fact that I can’t.

It’s completely natural after all these years that I still love him and still care about what he thinks. In a normal person (if there is such a thing) those feelings aren’t just shut off like flipping a switch. Hating him isn’t going to help anything, it’ll actually make things worse. As much as I would like to change things from being what they are I can’t and hating him won’t make it any easier. After all I still have to deal with him when this is all over and fighting any more than necessary is only going to prolong the emotional pain that I have to work through.

I am sick and fucking tired of always being the bigger and better person! I absolutely hate myself for not being more of the vindictive bitch that he tells everyone that he talks to I am. “You could have handled things differently” he says. You’re right! I could have. I could have had your ass arrested and charged back in January and I should have! I had the police on the fucking phone, but I was too scared about the fact that he still had keys to the apartment and was too scared of what would happen after this whole fucking nightmare was over because I had been told that getting sole custody was never going to happen so would have to find a way to be able to “work” with him no matter what. I should have just done it. At least then there would have been more of a chance of limiting visitation and laying the ground work for sole custody.

Being the bigger person is a good thing. In the long run being the bigger and better person is a good thing. It proves that I am not the kind of person that he says that I am. It proves that I am stronger than he is. It proves that despite having my really bad and emotional days that I am more emotionally and mentally mature than he is. And most importantly it shows my son the kind of person that I want him to grow up to be. Not filing a police report doesn’t change what happened. I may not have filed a police report, but there are people, who can be called upon if necessary, who are aware of the details of the specific event and who have also witnessed his behavior toward and treatment of me in the past. I many not have reported it immediately, but that does not mean that it didn’t happen, that it isn’t potentially relevant and that it can’t be reported as part of another incident in the future.

I hate feeling (as I do right now) — well to quote a line from the movie Titanic — “I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming at the top of my lungs, and no one even looks up.” I don’t want useless, emotionless platitudes, those only make me feel worse. I want what no one right now can give me. I want to feel connected. Connected to someone who knows me, someone who truly understands me, someone who loves me so deeply that they can not imagine their lives without me in it and would fight like hell to keep me in it. What’s more I don’t want to have to tell someone “I’m really hurting right now and I need you.” I want someone to notice my silent struggle and to make a gesture instead of waiting until I come to them.

Everybody else has their own lives. They have things that they are dealing with, good and bad and because they are all dealing with their own lives they don’t always realize or aren’t always available. Also, those who do actually care about me probably don’t want to keep asking how I am doing because they don’t want to upset me. They are trying to be considerate and thinking, hoping, believing that if I need them for support that I’ll ask them. I am sure that they do not realize just how much pain I am in and how difficult it is to express everything.

I hate the fact that there are SO many questions that I want to ask and things that I want to say to him.

I’ll never get to say or ask them and even if I did I would never get an answer and he wouldn’t care about anything that you have to say.

I hate the fact that he tries to treat this and has even gone so far as to say that this isn’t personal. Of course it’s fucking personal!! This is our lives, our family! There is nothing more personal than that!! Stop trying to turn this into a business transaction, especially since you seem to get offended when you think you are being asked to “sell out your son”.

I know what he is like. When things get too tough for him he prefers to give up and walk away. That’s what he is trying to do now. He doesn’t want to feel guilty for what he has done.

This entry has taken several days to write this entry. Being emotional, trying to work and suffering from migraines (damn stress and changes in the weather) have made it difficult to be able to focus as well as find the best words to express everything. Whether or not this entry has been beneficial remains to be seen. (I do believe it is my longest entry to date though.) I’ll just keep taking one breath after another, keep trying to focus on one task at a time and just make it until my son is home and in my arms. — Breathe in. Breathe Out.


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Posted by on November 10, 2014 in Letters to Self


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