PART 2-YEAR 37

He was a strikingly young looking man.

I was 23 and would have bet my left tit he was around 35, which was MY NORMAL go to trauma bonding age!

UGH.

So, here we go.

I find out he’s actually 43, but by this point I feel so relieved of my fears by his presence, that I drop all guard for my previously set boundary. Then I find out he has 5 kids. So, I fell right back into playing as the mom and wife I’d been striving to be. Except with James, it was different. He was nice, quiet, never yelled, hollered, or screamed. He never had conflict and would always go above and beyond to keep peace. Which was the opposite of my entire previous life. James was a worker and a hard worker. He had a job and he’d been there for over 10 years. He had a house that was paid for. It needed a ton of work, but it was his and he didn’t fear losing it. He provided money to pay bills and groceries. I never had to fight for money to buy essentials and food for the kids. Life was way better than I had ever seen it since leaving my grandparents. Matter of fact, James reminded me of my Grandfather so freaking much. Old and set in his ways. They are both the kind of alcoholics you can stand to be around. Good ole backwoods, blue collar, handshake was as good as payment, kind of men. I had hit the jackpot. I immediately trauma bonded to him and started to give him anything I thought he wanted. Which meant I gave way more than he required and more than I really wanted to give. I took on all the responsibilities his three kids plus one that was neither of ours. I took over control of everything. Christmas, birthdays, vacations, school work, home work, sports and events…they were now my responsibility. James was a workaholic, so he was never there. When he was, he had a million things on his list of things that needed to be done. Until suppertime, then like clockwork or the sun setting, James would come in cook and eat dinner, help clean up, do laundry, baths and bed. EVERYDAY. No change is needed. I became James’ co-dependent. I needed him to feel safe and secure in this life and he needed me to be a mother to his children. I have always felt off when it came to intimacy and sex. I find it extremely hard to be sexy. Wearing a negligee, or nighty made me feel icky and guilty. Physically approaching my husband for sex was never existent. I would never be willing to do anything extra because everything makes me feel vulnerable and nasty. Dirty even. I can remember a few years back thinking I could NEVER have sex again and be okay with it. Sex is a sticky situation for me, as with my healing came the realization that I’d been having sex with my husband because I felt obligated. I was taught withholding sex is a form of punishment and you shouldn’t do that. Withholding sex is nonexistent. Withholding implies he owned right to or was entitled to sex with me. I don’t owe anyone anything. Yet, here I was miserably laying there taking it time and time again. Then, I hated myself more, because I was too chicken shit to even tell him. Yeah, I remember those times. It wasn’t really that long ago.

Lately, my struggle is with the fact that James is so much older than me, I am trauma bonded to him, and I don’t know how to feel safe in this world alone. James is MY negative coping mechanism. I hold on to him to feel safe, knowing he is bleeding all over me. He is an alcoholic that has no boundaries and no self worth. He lives in fear of every possible bad outcome that could possibly come his way. He instills that fear into everyone around him too. I know, I spend a ton of time with him. He comes into my home and brings negative habits, causing the same circular pattern of degradation to his surroundings. He creates something to be busy with. I do not want to live that life of always needing to repair, replace, fix something that could have been prevented, easily. Example, sink leaks. I tell him. Offer to hire a plumber. He will fix it. He don’t. It rots the entire floor out after I give up bitching. Floor gets repaired, new cabinets get placed. Same day, I notice a leak under the sink……I tell him and bitch and the cycle begins again. We have replaced at least 10 well pumps in the 13 years we’ve been together, yet I still couldn’t wash my damn clothes in the water without ruining them. When I asked for a filter, I was told it would stop up and wouldn’t last long. So, I started piling my clothes up and taking them to the laundromat. I allowed this shit to happen. I can see how his trauma was bleeding all over me. This is why I left. This is why I have my own home. Over the last few weeks, I’ve been focusing on how I feel and how others are showing up. I am focusing on seeing people for exactly who they are by their actions. If you tell me something and then do the opposite, I noticed. I did not say a word, but I noticed. If a RED FLAG presents itself, I’m becoming less like Cardi B and more like Kevin Gates- Imma politely vacate the premises. So, when I verbalized my wishes for this year, it didn’t settle well with him.

He didn’t understand WHY I’d need to go a year without sex.

I told him because I needed to learn to build intimacy, love, and relationships with vulnerability and communication, not just sex. So, were getting a divorce. THE END.

Remember, it’s not your actions that causes anything.

It’s how they recieve it.

If they want to receive it through their ego, then they will automatically jump to conclusions that something’s wrong with them, that they somehow are being punished, or that you’re making this decision based off another motive than what’s stated.

Hence accusing you of a hidden agenda. An egotistical man cannot understand you or your decisions because they are not confident in themselves and what they are bringing to the table. A confident and awake man would allow his partner to explore sexuality or, lack thereof, in any way that fulfilled her. He would honor her decisions to express her love with more than actual copulation. He would support her in whatever she needs to heal a wound. If I couldn’t have sex because I had cancer or some other form of aliment, this wouldn’t be a conversation, right. WRONG. People show you who they are with their actions.

I was vulnerable and told him what I needed to heal a part of me. I was taking a risk because I knew he’d probably leave. He couldn’t see past how it affected him. I set a boundary. He is the ultimate decision maker. He can hang on and in the frustrating moments lean into me, or he could go.

He left.

Let’s see how this one plays out.

Until next time.

I love yall.