Sunday, September 22, 2013

In which Tryph loses the best friend that never was

Hope can be a disastrous thing.  (some parts of this may be triggering to some)

Pretty eyes crying. 
Don't get me wrong, I'm a advocate for hope.  Hope can push us to be better, reach higher and be stronger.  Hope can be the glue that keeps you fighting for something when everyone else tells you that you're wrong and should let go.  Hope can be wonderful.

But, take it from me, it can also be a disastrous thing.

Hope can keep us in a relationship longer than we should. "I hope (s)he stops acting like that and grows up"
Hope can keep us from moving on when we should "I hope that one day (s)he finally sees me, and falls in love for real"
Hope can keep us holding on to a past that needs to stay there "I hope that one day, things will return to X"
And hope can make us see what isn't really there.  "I hope my best friend stops acting like the king of the douche bags and starts to be a decent human being"

I'm the hopeful sort who sees the very best in people, even when they demonstrate time and again that they're selfish, cruel individuals who at the end of the day, only care about what they want.  I see that the person who takes and takes and takes and rarely gives in return as "not the real them... you'd understand if you really knew them".  I'm the sort who can easily be taken for a ride, because I truly hope that people are good.

And this is how I lost the best friend that never was.

A little over 13 years ago I met a boy and fell head over heels.  It didn't take him long to start to show what kind of a "man" he was, but I was blinded by love.  Just over a year later, through twists and turns I've covered ad nauseum before, I married that "man" and took a vow.  In my mind and my heart I vowed to always stand with him and by him.  I guess even then I was hoping he did the same for me.

We stayed together for all the wrong reasons on both sides, and one day about 3 years ago I decided it was done, over.  That we could no longer stay together as husband and wife.  But even after that, I still took that vow I made seriously.  I still wanted him to be my best friend, and a partner of sorts.  We made a promise to each other that we would, and we had a child so we had to be better than our parents were.

Don't get me wrong.  Our marriage was over, and will always be over.  I'd be lying if I said a small part of me didn't still dream and hope that he'd be the forever he promised.  A part of me did, when you truly love someone, it never just ends neatly in a pretty package.  And sometimes there's a lingering doubt about how things ended.... even if ultimately it's the right thing to do.

So I stayed in the house for another year after I left him.  I stayed through abusive language and treatment.  I stayed through him putting our child in danger through substance abuse (once with random muscle relaxants found in the car after driving a prostitute home, more often with getting blackout drunk).  I stayed, because I hoped for a light at the end of the tunnel, because I hoped that the nightmare would end.

A year later, it was enough for both of us, and he threw me out.  He immediately asked me to come back, but enough was enough.  I went apartment hunting, and nearly signed a lease... but he asked me back yet again.  I went back, with the hopes and promises that we'd fix the house, that we'd sell, that we'd work on a better relationship with each other.

And nothing.  Nothing changed.  Yes, for the most part he was less abusive in how he treated me.  He drank less... but his problems with anger management and his selfishness were still in full force.  I stayed, and it was slowly driving me crazy... but I stayed because I hoped it would get better.  I hoped that somewhere under all of the bullshit he was throwing in my general direction... I hoped that my best friend would finally surface.

A year after I moved back in.  A year after the promises that had long been broken... he raped me.  I wish I could say it was the first time, because it wasn't, but it was the most brutal.  He claimed he didn't remember it at first, but quickly changed his attitude from "shame" to accusations.  He told me that he was just trying to satisfy me.  That I wanted it, and him.

For the next four months, on top of the shame I felt for being abused and victimised; on top of the old memories of being a child who had been sexually abused; on top of the comments he'd make about how it wasn't his fault, but mine... I still fucking HOPED that he was a decent man.  I hoped that the pain and anger he was feeling was what was making him act the way he was.

That hope nearly killed me last November.  I couldn't reconcile it anymore, and while being on the wrong treatment for my depression... well that's where the suicide attempt came from.

You'd think that would have been the wakeup call.  The thing that made me stop hoping that I'd find my bestie in him.

It wasn't.

I'm too stupid, too loyal, and far too hopeful for that.

I kept holding on to the dream of the vow I made just over 12 years ago.  I kept hoping that he'd shake off his selfishness and figure out how to be a decent person, friend and man.

I think I would have kept holding on to that hope until last weekend.

I found out that given the choice between paying child support  (something I don't want but, could be forced into by the courts) or allowing me to have a relationship with my son... he will attempt to get full custody.  It's mental.  Absolutely mental.

I could handle his selfishness when it was just me he was taking from.  But this?  The fact that his fucking BANK account is more important than his son?  It disgusted me to a point where... where I have to accept that there is no good in him.  That the gods saw what they'd done when they created him, and atoned by making the child he and I made together and gave him all the goodness that his father lacked.

I finally had to let go of the hope that somewhere under all his messed up daddy issues, anger management problems, self destructive tendencies, selfishness, codependency and inability to be a real person... there isn't a good person.

There's just a petulant and scared child who refuses to grow up.

And he finally lost the one person who would have stayed by his side, even after seeing him at his worst first hand.

1 comment:

Sarah said...

Oh sweetheart. I wish I had known. I'm so sorry for all this hell. You don't deserve it, and neither does your son. *hugs*