Routine update (plus a little)

My name is Cristina D. Johnson

Haven't seen Michelle for awhile - it's been several days. I don't have transportation to see her unless it's a late afternoon appointment. This is really wearing on me. I am struggling a bit.

Woke up this morning with a sense of dread and a "who do you think you are?" complex and that now all-too-familiar feeling of being in trouble. I hate that feeling. I started feeling it when I lived with Gary. It's somatic and .....emotional(?). I feel it across my backside, sometimes down my legs, as if anticipating a beating. I hate the feeling.

But because I've been sick the past couple days, NyQuil has been my friend so I took some of that, fell back asleep and at least that feeling left me.

Then I awoke the second time and I felt indescribably stupid for writing the blog I wrote yesterday. I don't know why, but I'm pretty sure that's where the "who do you think you are?" came from. Who do I think I am?

Hell if I know - haha.

At least for now I'm okay with that, though at times it's a bit unnerving.

"Hi, what's your name?"

"Uh...Cristina?.....I think?" (c'mon...ya gotta see the humor in it).

Anytime I've switched or begun to dissociate and Bill asks me "Who am I talking to?" I snap out of it.

Actually, not every time; just every time that I remember.

(Also see: Multiple Personality Disorder: Switching Between the Alters - a little less clinical).

How bizarre....how strange and peculiar. How difficult to wrap one's head around.

Anyway, today I was sick - I dreamed of Bill. It wasn't a bad dream; wasn't a good dream. Pretty neutral, really.... at least I thought at first.

But I do believe our dreams are (in short) reflections of (or awarenesses of) our subconscious minds, telling us things. In my case, also could be alters reaching out (such as the two dreams I recently had about a little black boy being abused who wouldn't show his face, but that's a different story).

In this dream, the message seems so clear: I'm repeating an old pattern. I say this with absolute fondness and adoration and devotion to Bill, but the truth is, I am dependent and I am also veering away from my path - another reason I need to see Michelle again.

I'm falling back into an old pattern of trying to be a 'good wife' or a 'good woman' and do all the right things. Mixed in there, somewhere, is the "me" that Bill knew and loved over 10 years ago. The "me" that would go out and party and come home to find him plopped in front of his T.V. at 2 a.m. in his apartment as I returned to mine. The "me" that was somewhat flamboyant and extremely opinionated, inside and outside the relative safety of my own apartment.

And....the "me" that drank too much.

In my defense, I don't drink like I did back then. I couldn't. I'm getting too old for it (haha) but I know, now, that certain things that I drink will cause me to shift, as well as where I drink them.

For this reason, I try to keep it to just beer, but I do have an occasional dip into a favorite flavored vodka which, most often is harmless - a couple nips, here and there. But sometimes it gets bad and I recall nothing.

On a typical day, however, I have anywhere from two to six beers - depending on how late we stay up. Sometimes we will go through a whole twelve pack, plus Vodka, such as was the case over the holidays, which isn't to say we get inebriated - because we don't - but we do drink (of course, there are also days when we don't drink any alcohol at all).

I know that I will stop. There have been times in the past when I've stopped of my own accord and I don't have the same feelings about it now, that I used to (back in 04 and the beginning of 05, I would panic if I got down to a six-pack. Today, if I run out, oh well. I ran out).

Today, it's a lot different and I know the power of control it can have over you.

So to me, based on today's dream in which Bill said to me, "We need more nights like that [where we don't drink] so we can have more party nights," it was both sobering (no pun intended) and enlightening. It was a bit difficult to swallow (again, no pun intended) but truth is true.

Truth is True.

And I want my reality and my Truth and my journey to be real to anyone who reads it because it is real and it hurts sometimes and it's so scary other times but of all the good and/or bad things it is and will be, it is real and I am a real person, sitting here, living vicariously through my keyboard and hoping someone else reads this not with judgment but, rather, a sense of relief that they are not alone.

You are not alone.

Changes

Yesterday morning, we talked - had a good talk, actually, although - again - my issues were thrown in my face, he kept saying he wasn't trying to shame me. I cried and he cried. He even said the day I move out will be one of the hardest days of his life. We talked about not wanting the relationship to end, but he felt it must. Thought it was what was best for me.

As he got up to leave, he hugged me, kissed the top of my head and went upstairs to go to work.

I was just sitting there, crying, thinking about everything that had been said, wondering why I am more willing to forgive than him.

I went to the store, bought a six-pack, and went to my sitting spot. I didn't even want to drink - not at all. Wasn't in the mood, was just hurting.

I texted him as much - told him I didn't want to drink. He said to pour it out and do something different. I asked him why we couldn't work it out...told him if we can't work through the tough times, how could we ever be a couple. Told him people who've been together for 50 and 60 years didn't quit during the hard times. Promised I would do things differently, if he would do the same. He was relatively amenable and I started to think a lot differently.

Started to think about the easy changes I could make - drinking being one of them. I don't need to drink, don't crave it, just drink to numb.

So I poured it out. I did something different. I came home, laid down and took a nap. When I awoke, I started dinner. He was in the shower.

I was excited, actually, because I thought we reached a different place; a place of reconciliation where we might be able to work through these issues we're both having.

I was also proud of myself for choosing something different. To me, it was like a small token of my commitment - a literal gift to show him how serious I was about working through it.

As I cooked dinner, he went upstairs. I could hear him up there. I wondered if he had an appointment with his therapist, but then noted the time - too late for that, so maybe he's just getting dressed.

Dinner was almost done when he came downstairs. Dressed to go out, cologne and all.

"I'm making dinner for you guys," I said to him, half-heartrboken, half-hopeful.

"I wish I'd known," he answered. "I ate at 4:30 and I'm not hungry."

I just looked at him.

He said: "I'm going down to the marina and then I'll probably go to [the bar] afterwards."

It sunk into my heart like a knife.

"So I guess I'm the only one who's supposed to do things differently?" I ask.

I began to cry. Chin-shaking, heart-aching cry. I had felt so good to do something different and so hopeful...
so hopeful....

"You just don't want me to have a life," he said to me at one point.

I could have just died.

I felt so rejected. So abandoned...again. Mocked. I was giving something - a small step, small token - only to have it thrown back in my face. I felt ridiculous, like a fool.

I cried out the door as he left, "You're wrong! You're so wrong!"

And then I sobbed and sobbed for awhile in my room.

I cleaned myself up, fed Trevor.

Grabbed my cooler and headed to my spot.

I sat there on the dock....so cool, so peaceful. I was so devastated that he wouldn't even try. Wouldn't even discuss trying.

I had my bottle of water with me, and I sat there drinking it. A kayaker went by, waved. I waved back.

Somehow it made me think - seeing this kayaker - that drinking isn't what I want to do, not at all. I had at least a six-pack with me and I could've but I just didn't want it.

I sat at my spot for about 30 minutes and then came home. Originally, I had texted him saying, "Well, I guess I'll just do the same thing you're doing, then." (something like that). But then I texted him and told him I wasn't going to drink tonight, that I don't want to and that I was merely telling him for the sheer joy of telling him.

Which is true - I didn't tell him to try and change his mind because I'd already decided - the moment he walked out the door - that I deserve better. I deserve to be treated fairly, instead of constantly put down and shamed. (I know there's one person that'll probably read this and be like, "Thank God!" because she wants nothing more than to see Gary and I stay split up).

Yeah, I told him almost to just rub it in his face....to say it's not for him, it's for me and he can have "his life" all he wants.

I came home, watched a movie (The Preacher's Wife....was good), and then a couple other t.v. shows. By midnight, I was tired and he still wasn't home. I knew where he was and who he was with, but I just didn't care.

I just don't care anymore.

Someone who wanted to work it out, would do something different than he did last night.

Just like I did.

I didn't drink at all... and it felt good.

My Current Truth

I'm in the beginning stages of "healing" - I use quotation marks because it sure as hell doesn't feel like healing. They call it the crisis stage and it's unbearable to go through alone.

My life is a wreck - all caused by me. For the past four weeks, I've been volatile and unpredictable because of this pain I'm in over this break-up. I don't know how to handle it. I keep having nightmares about him.

So then I go drink (alone, by the water) and it helps...

But sometimes it brings out the worst, although I don't have to be drinking for my worst to come out and usually the worst only comes out when he's here, in reaction to feeling abandoned (that's not an excuse).

Some of my sins:

• Vile words/texts to others out of rage.
• Violent outbursts - including grabbing him, grabbing his shirt, demanding to know why he gave up, why he left me.
• Shoving the mattress off the bed and ripping the sheets off (in my mind, I was preventing another woman from sleeping in our bed).
• Sarcasm
• Some would say I have excuses for all these things.
• Some would even say I'm writing this "for affect"
• Pushing others away
• Not letting anyone in
• Suicide ideation
• Cutting
• Drinking too much, to numb and escape

I'm sure there's more.

This morning we talked and he told me - again - what a vile person I am. He didn't use those exact words, but he told me some pretty hurtful things, including "I don't care about you" and he doesn't love me. These words cut me more than anything. And, to make it worse, it was my fault. My fault that he no longer cares for or loves me. He says I lie to myself and to everyone, and he can't believe a word I say. It's like four good years of our five years together is gone...never existed. He said not one kind thing about me...or to me. He even said he's "waiting for the opportunity [to call the cops on me]"

Oh God...

All of this is my fault. Everything. I don't know how to handle any emotions so it all just comes out as rage... I don't know what else to do. So on top of that, I have to deal with knowing that everything is my fault.

This makes me think of daddy..... makes me angry, makes me hurt more than anything. The anger comes out at Gary or (a couple times) Carolyn or my oldest son or whomever is in firing range - but the hurt...I cry sitting here now, thinking about how the things my father and the many other men did to me, have led me to this and how everyone expects me to just get over it...and I'm trying. I'm trying so hard, and I was told to embrace the people who are there and who love me and care and want me to heal but  I don't believe that. I don't believe anyone can love or care or help. I never have. How can someone like me ever be loved?


See Attachment Disorder.When you go through what I went through as an infant and toddler, it happens.

Sounds like a big pity party, doesn't it?
It's not. It's the truth of how it feels to have your wreck of a life, thrown in your face without any compassion for the things that have gotten you there to begin with. You're already walking around with the weight of the world on your shoulders - already trying to save face, already trying to fake it...trying to matter... trying to ignore the enormous shame and guilt and filth that lives inside you - and then someone comes along and shames you, guilts you and makes you feel even more filthy.

I wanted, this morning, to tell him he's a good friend...wanted to try to do something right. Anything right.

But then I heard these horrible things about myself and all I could do was sit there and rock and cry and realize how true they are....

Right now, I'm doing very little to help myself because I feel helpless and hopelessly lost. I have zero energy, I'm so overwhelmed. All my own creation, I know, but Dear God....some compassion would be nice. Just to know that after five years, he still sees some beauty and potential in me.

I've hurt people - people I didn't intend to hurt, but did. I don't know why I did. I have no reason...no explanation, although I'm sure - deep down - there is a reason or two. Perhaps that's my way of pushing people away. I think partly it's because "well, if he'd abandon me, so will you, so fuck you. I won't give you the chance - I'll leave you first!" Who knows? But it's mine to own.

All of this pulls my past into my present and I react from there. I don't know how to stop or control it.

I wish I did... I hate my life the way it is right now, on so many levels.

I am sorry to those I've hurt. The shame I feel over this is profound, and I know an apology is not enough. I'm not a hurtful person, at my core.

At my core, I am a compassionate, giving, loving, affectionate, attentive person. People who've known me for years, know this.

But my core is in defense mode now, covered by the ugly that is me. The ugly that is my life. The ugly that keeps surfacing through this "healing" journey.

Ashamed, alone

This morning, I wrote a blog about a meltdown I had last night. It was ugly. Very ugly.

This morning's blog, though, was unfair and unkind, and it was not emotionally honest, so I removed it.

I lashed out at others instead of looking at myself.

Long story short: I went to a friend's house for dinner and drinks. I was going to leave, but was convinced to have another drink, at which point it was decided we call him to pick me up because it wasn't safe for me to drive. For a moment, I don't remember what happened. The next thing I remember is fighting with my friend in her driveway as I was taking off walking. She wasn't doing anything wrong, that I recall so I don't know what caused my angry outburst. I continued walking down the road and in my mind I hear shouts about how I'm going to get her dog killed (because the dog followed us) but it's very vague.

I don't know what happened next, but I do remember sitting on the side of the road with a woman whom I've met a couple of times but who I couldn't tell you what she was wearing or looked like. She was very soothing. She sat down with me and talked to me and I listened. I didn't hear anything but I listened, cried and rocked. And she rocked with me. She put her arms around me and rocked with me while I cried.

I don't know what I was feeling in that moment. I was certainly feeling more soothed...it was an unusual experience - especially coming from a woman. It's never happened before. I remember her saying she had four kids. Perhaps that's how she knew what to do.

I don't remember going home, but I remember him stopping on the side of the road and picking me up. I don't remember getting home, but I do remember fighting once inside.

This morning, when I woke up, I was angry at everyone else...because it was easier for me to be angry at them, than to face my own shame and humiliation. I went to my sitting spot, sat in the car in the rain and watched the raindrops fall like a waterfall on my windshield. I noticed how the curtain of water was distorting everything and making different things look like they were moving when they were stationary. I also noticed the birds flying and playing - I wondered how do they fly with wet wings? The marvel of nature I suppose.

And then I wondered, "What am I supposed to do?"

And then I thought - be honest.

So I am being honest and I was honest when I texted him and admitted to him that my drinking had gotten out of control but that I couldn't give him that. It had to be my choice, my decision. I was vulnerable; I told him I was afraid, ashamed and I don't know what to do.

His response was "make some changes in your life."

I told him I am. I have made enormous changes in my life. That's what's wrong with me now. Dear God the changes have been huge. But I don't understand what he means when he says this. What do you mean, make changes in my life? What else can I do? I'm so lost, so confused. What do you mean?!

I need help and support. I need understanding and guidance. I don't understand. I feel more alone now than I have in years. My friend is no longer speaking to me and sent me a nasty message this morning, saying as much. She called it "tough love"

I responded with not-so-nice messages to her, too. But as I sat there, looking through the distorted windshield, I realized I had reacted inappropriately and I sent her a message: "I'm sorry for last night. There is no excuse." That's as honest as I can get.

It was entirely my fault.

But there - sitting in the car, alone - my tears fell with the rain and I realized, I can't blame them. Can't blame them for leaving me. Can't blame them for quitting. These irrational outbursts, these unpredictable triggers, the drinking, the being lost...this whole journey it's too much. I know what's in my head, but they don't and they no longer trust me to tell them, nor do they want to hear it.

I think that realization was what made my stomach sink because in that moment, I realized why I am so alone. I blamed myself, hated myself, kicked myself, put myself down. I beat myself up worse than I ever have and worse than they both could, together as they sat together discussing the night before (he went to visit her...which hurt. They have each other, I have no one). Never mind that it's my fault - just saying it hurt.

Alone is such a simple word, for such a profound feeling. I don't even want to be seen or heard or talked to.

I just wanted him to love me and this wanting kills me. He can't show one ounce of love for me now. He says he's in defense mode.

He doesn't see that I am, too. That I was betrayed, too. That I was devastated, too.

I'm so confused, so hurt....so humiliated and ashamed...

....And alone.