He dumped me nearly 2 months ago, but I have kept crawling back like the pitiful addict that I am. I truly do hate myself for it too. The sickest part is that he knows it. He knows that I’m addicted to him and keeps the whole cycle going. He knows all my triggers, knows where my strings are and how to pull them. Whenever I have tried to leave, he does his best to prevent it. Not necessarily because there is some undying love for me, rich with texture and depth as I would wish and fantasize there’d be; but perhaps because part of his disease is having someone need him. Also, him wanting the ability to have someone around that he can kick away so that he can maintain his position of power. If he has no one to kick there’s no fun, no one to punish, no one to make fun of, no one to torment, no one to manipulate, no one to “play with.”
Yesterday, I am not sure what it was but something snapped inside me. The pain of getting rejected over and over began to outweigh the tiny intermittent crumbs he throws. (At this point the crumbs are not even remotely affection related) Or was it him sending me photos of his latest sexual acquisition complete with lurid details of what he was going to do with these girls, yes two of them! Cane their asses til they bleed and wrap Saran Wrap over their nose and mouth( asphyxia play). The more edgy shit he’s into. I felt nauseated and cried buckets having to stare at the images of the actual women he’s doing.
He claimed it did this only to illustrate where his disease has taken him but I don’t buy it. He could have done that with words, a global explanation using intonation and inflection for emphasis. I believe he did it to hurt me. and it did.
So I phoned him and told him that this is it. I can’t do this anymore. I told him that while I realise for many years I have come back like a boomerang, that I too have limits with tolerating emotional pain and that I have reached my limit. I told him that other women he has dumped in his life, including his ex-wife, walked away with their head held high and self-respect intact. That I am the only one to come back and grovel like this. I told him today is the day I get my self-respect back, my dignity back. Today is the day I accept your dumping me and walk away with my head held high and move on. My liberation.
I told him he will not hear from me after this whether he believes this or not and will go to any length to heal. That today is the day I bury his memory and begin to grieve him. Then, he asked me “will you send me the framed photo of you, the one that was on my desk?” and before he finished I thought of those women he’s about to fuck and cane til they bleed; so I hung up the phone. He can sit and spin.
True to form I wake up today and receive this email in my inbox from him which he apparently sent last night:
Today I lost an angel, my best friend, my future wife, a catch of a life
time, the woman that hung in there for me, my girl that used to call me Daddy,
my blood brother, and the mother of my future step-son.
I lost it all because of my fears and anger. I am a man who has been suffering deep
inside, and is spiritually bankrupt. I am lost and running. The last memory
that I have of you is “click.”
I did not know how to care for you.
Now you are gone. Heal well Lexi…..
I feel like a fish on a hook and there’s juicy bait always thrown my way. At first glance it seems like he cares, which is what makes me want to type something back. Upon closer examination, I thought about it. I realised what’s more likely, he doesn’t like that I left. That I pulled the plug on his game. That even though he dumped me, I walked away. So the email comes to try to lure me back in, only so he can kick me away again. It’s all about power and control with him. Nothing about emotion, feelings, or love. So like a good healing love-addict fish, I have to learn to swim away from the hooks, the bait, and realise that some sadistic fisherman just wants to ensnare me into his net again.
My addiction remains that part of me, which wants to believe there might be truth in those words he typed, what if I reach out to him? what if it doesn’t have to end? what if? what if? what if? a thousand what if’s………second guessing my logic which perpetuates and fuels my addiction……..and that’s why I “keep coming back”
~God be with me~