If I'm going to make this work, I have to be more introspective than I ever have been before, and that's frightening to me. It intimidates me because I am naturally introspective as it is, and to look even deeper into my psyche than I already have is a terrible prospect. Still, it must be done.
My jealousy is out of control and I don't know why. Not yet. I almost never felt jealousy when I was with my husband, because I knew, without a doubt, that I was the center of his universe. He loved me so completely, for years. I never saw him even glance at another woman. We had comfortable discussions about what actresses we found attractive and which we did not. I'm sure my bisexual tendencies contributed to the comfort of those discussions, but I was never able to do that with anyone in the past. I was comfortable because I knew, then anyway, that he would never cheat on me. I trusted him completely, which says a lot for me because I have serious trust issues. And where do those issues come from anyway?
From the people I've dated: The first man I ever fell in love with was Sparlin. I loved him in a young and immature fashion, but it was all-consuming and intoxicating. I was 12 or 13 - far too young to date, in retrospect. I was too young to understand the fact that people are not often satisfied with what they have. I was in complete bliss, just to know I was loved. I had low self-esteem, and I was insecure. Maybe moreso than I am now. But I loved him, completely. So much so that I forgave him, over and over again, for cheating on me and betraying me. With my friends, with our mutual friends, with people I don't even know about. I clinged to him desperately, partly because I loved him, and partly because I couldn't stand the thought of being without him, despite what he had done. He took advantage of me in more ways than one - I wasn't ready to have sex, but I felt forced into it, so that I could keep him, maybe make him love me more. I realize now how foolish I was. Eventually I came to forgive him, even before he came to me, years later, and genuinely and truly expressed his remorse and regret. I don't think I ever forgave myself.
This went on for 3-4 years, I can't remember exactly how long because I've blocked many of the events from memory. After Sparlin, I entertained several other men's attentions, because I craved it. Needed it to feel valid, not worthless, to feel human. It was all fruitless and empty, looking back now. And the effects of such attentions never lasted for long. It was like being addicted to drugs - the fix is temporary, and after it's gone you need it even more than before. After the damage that had been done by my relationship with Sparlin, I felt distrust and bitterness building up inside of me, something I had never felt before. I had an online relationship with someone far older than me, and eventually he couldn't stand to talk to me anymore. I don't remember why, due to my memory gaps.... I can only conclude that the ghosts of previous relationships had contaminated my outlook on everything. I tried to make amends years later, but he wanted nothing to do with me. The pain of knowing that I was that unbearable almost broke me. Maybe it did, in a way.
As a freshman in high school, I rebounded by dating a senior. I honestly don't remember what happened between us, but I do remember him blaming me for his suffering and pain, and cutting himself in class. I tried to help him, but he woulddn't listen to or acknowledge me. The gaps in my memory disturb me.... I don't remember if this relationship made me happy, or sad. All I remember is his claim that I ruined his life. Maybe I did, but it doesn't seem possible. Then again, being that I can't remember anything from that relationship, maybe it's true. I never spoke to or saw him again after that.
I was lonely and lost when I started seeing Joe, in high school. I think.... I think I agreed to date him out of pity. Hormones had a great deal to do with it too. By then I was ready for sexual encounters and things of that sort, fucked up though my mindset was due to the Sparlin incident. He consistently lied to me, about the most ridiculous things. I know why he did it - he was as insecure as I was, just wanted to be loved, and it didn't matter by whom. Eventually, he became so possessive of me that he began to be aggressive towards me. He was very mentally unstable. When he grabbed my arm so hard that it left bruises, I told him it was over.... the one time I broke up with someone. He continued to torment me, told all my friends that I had cheated on him when I hadn't, tried to turn them againt me. Had me sent to in-school suspension when I tried to reason with him, ask him to stop telling lies about me. We also made ammends years later, for which I am grateful. I can easily forgive, if only it is requested.
Matt Johnson saved me, in a way, from the terrible relationships I'd had. I met him at work, he was a virgin and very sweet and innocent, the way I used to be. Maybe, in a way, I corrupted him. I didn't mean to, it was never my intention. He doted on me - bought me jewelry, took me on vacations, let me live with him in his aunt's house (which was the first time I had ever lived away from home. I was about 18 at the time.) For reasons I still don't understand, the things I loved about him dimmed in my eyes. Our relationship became boring to me, and I didn't want to communicate with him about it because I still loved him, and didn't want to hurt him. When he was in pain, I experienced that pain as well. We had so many poignant, emotional experiences together..... but perhaps those memories are glamorized in my mind now. I was with Matt for 3-4 years, after maybe the second year is when I cheated on him. I had NO REASON for doing so, and he still doesn't know that I did. I have no intention of telling him, probably never will. I did it because I was bored, and a coworker had been seducing me ina way I had never experienced before - none of the "will you be my girlfriend?" kinds of innocent questions.... there was something deeply wrong and terribly appealing about how this man approached me, and I desired it. I hate myself for it now. I don't know if I can ever forgive myself. It haunts me. I ended it, but by then our relationship was in disrepair. We argued, often. I moved out of his aunt's house because, frankly, I was no longer wanted there by his aunt for strange reasons I don't comprehend. We continued to date, but, perhaps because I had already cheated, I began checking Matt's e-mails, and found very incriminating evidence that indicated that he may have been cheating on me. I suffered terrible agony over this, even though I knew I deserved it. We agreed to try to make things work, because we still loved each other, but things were even worse. I had never before slapped or hurt anyone in my life, but every time I saw him, I felt such an unfamiliar rage building up inside of me that I couldn't control. I slapped him. I knew then that it had to end. And it did. I was not a violent person before then.
I started doing drugs shortly after that, and immediately jumped into a relationship with a boy I barely knew - Benji. He seemed sweet, kind, compassionate.... I didn't realize, being naive as I was to the drug world, that ecstasy can create a convincing effect of empathy and understanding. I felt more lost and alone than I ever had in my entire life... I just wanted to make it go away, to force it out so far from me that it could never come back. I thought, mistakenly, that being with Benji would somehow give me the fix I needed. And I did love him, in that absolutely insane, drug-addled way that people love each other. Snort a line, lay in emotionless peace together. Pop some pills, share emotional and exciting experiences. It was so good, for a time. I lived in a twisted neverland that I NEVER wanted to leave. Ever. I would have done anything to stay there. But we were kicked out of the raver house, and then things degraded from there. We got our own apartment, and then the fighting started. Became so painful and agonizing that I cannot clearly remember now everything that happened. He was addicted to porn, almost never wanted to fuck me. I'd never dealt with something like that before, ever. I reacted with that rage I felt when I slapped Matt, not physically but verbally. We antagonized each other. Eventually, he started to hurt me. Just a bit at a time - a slap here or there, and of course verbal abuse. Then, on a particularly bad day, he punched me in the face.... and I felt I was confronted with a split-second decision - I could continue to curl up in a corner in a fetal position and wait for it to stop, or I could fight back. And I decided, right then, that I wouldn't let him do this to me without a fight. So, I hit him back. It escalated from there. Abusing each other and then making up, snorting K to kill the pain, rolling to try to reignite the passion we once felt for each other.... it even came to the point where he and I were in such a desolate and hopeless place that we agreed to roll for one last time, and then kill ourselves. Obviously, it didn't work. But Benji tried it again, later, without me. We had to call emergency services and have him taken to the hospital. It was.....traumatic. Eventually, he ended it. I believe I had a psychotic break of some kind, because I slashed his seats, broke his phone, destroyed all his clothes, smashed his windshield in with a hand drill, and then tried to poison myself in front of his house by drinking engine oil.
I descended even further into desolation after we parted, and then I met Matt, my husband. Unlike Benji, who pretended to be kind and selfless and understanding, Matt truly was. He understood the dark place in which I dwelled, and he chose to love me anyway. We did do drugs together, but it wasn't like it was with Benji. Matt never raised his voice to me, he always remained empathetic and compassionate. He even asked me to live with him shortly after we started dating....in retrospect, I think he did so because he was as lonely as I was. And I agreed, because I wanted to feel loved, because I didn't want to live at home and be alone, and because he truly loved me, even when we weren't fucked up. I know this without any doubt. But.... I don't think I loved him, in the beginning. I cared for him, I wanted for his happiness, but I had been driven too far into selfishness and despair to care about anything more than my own pain. I will forever regret misleading him that way, in the beginning. But I did come to love him as he was then, for all the wonderful and selfless qualities he possessed. They were real. But my anger never went away. My bitterness and agony subsided a bit, because I knew I was truly loved, and because I had drugs like K and meth to kill the feelings away, but beneath it all was a seething hatred. Hatred for life, for love and how it can be so easily taken away or discarded... for people, and how no one could ever be relied upon, including myself. I hated myself, because I so clearly saw that
I had become the monsters that created me, the very things I loathed in others.
I don't know if I want to go through all the details of what happened, I'll make a long story short - Matt did everything for me. Everything. He made calls for me, he bought my drugs and food, he supported me. I had a great job, but I quit so that I could spend more time with him, and also because it was 40 miles away from Chandler. In a way, I gave up. I overdosed on acid and lost my mind temporarily, swore off drugs and then started doing them again months later. I couldn't let go of that twisted neverland in which I once had lived, the one time and place when I had actually felt FREE. Matt wanted to move on from that, have a normal and what I considered boring life, and I was not ready. When we moved away from Chandler, we lost our drug family, and I felt that loss keenly. I wanted it back, more than anything. That desire began to drive us apart. I thought about getting married because it seemed like the logical progression of things. I thought I had the perfect man, a man that had never lied or broken a promise, and never would. I was a fool. I became bored again, just like I did with Matt J. I cheated, I lied, and we fought all the time. Matt never hit me or abused me, although he did press me up against a wall with his forearm by my neck to keep me from hurting him. I abused him. I became a monster once again. I relied on him for everything. I gave up on having a normal life, because, frankly, I didn't want it. The prospect of it made me, for lack of a better word, suicidal. We wanted differen things, different ways of life. And then his physical problems and lack of money put a terrible strain on us, and my laziness, anxiety, fear, and depression contributed greatly. In the end, there were no more solutions. He changed. Maybe I changed him.
In all these relationships, I was often referred to as captivating, beautiful beyond words, something that could not be lived without. Magical. And, inevitably, I began to be described as toxic. Poisonous. Pure venom. Hateful. And I was. At the time, I wanted to be. I felt it was better to fight back in the only ways I knew how than to cry in a corner, mourning everything I had lost, hopeless and helpless and scared. After all of this, I became used to being this way, and now that I am trying to be the way I once was.... the way I was when I was with Sparlin - innocent and totally in love and trusting and hopeful and romantic - it's a daily struggle to remember what those things even felt like. I can no longer remember what it is to experience life with distrust, or hatred, or envy, or insecurity and fear. I cannot remember joy, or what it felt to be carefree. It is a loss too empty to share.
This has been a long enough entry for now. I have much more to evaluate and review, but that will come at another time. Besides, I doubt anyone is going to read this besides me. Most people don't have the patience, compassion, interest, or empathy to read something like this. Such is life.