I’d like to say that things make sense and that everything makes sense and that life makes sense and that even the sun setting over the mountainside makes sense to me but absolutely nothing makes sense to me anymore.
A year ago I was in an extremely emotional turned abusive relationship which I left only to end up falling head over heels in love with a (trans)man who I thought would be my forever.
My permanent.
For anyone who has never had an ounce of permanency in their lives, they can imagine what this could mean for them. This is consistency. This is stability. This is security. Permanency is the ultimate form of love and loyalty and boy was I ultimately wrong.
This man, he showered me with affection, adoration, appreciation; we shared stories of our lives, our dreams, or futures. We decided on a life together, chose names for our future children, painted pictures of our dream home together in our heads.
We ran away, and boy did we run, we ran as far as we could and it took us straight to the wedding chapel and we said I do.
It was spontaneous, so spontaneous we picked our rings out after our ceremony.
Our witnesses were another couple that had gotten married just prior to us, and the only reason I can remember one of their names is because he signed our certificate as our witness.
And things, man things were so flawless.
I met your girlfriend.
And your girlfriend even welcomed me into our home. Come to find out, even though in your mind you two had been broken up, in her mind you hadn’t. And now you’re back together.
And now we all live together.
And whether I liked it or not, I, a woman who always practiced monogamy, was thrown into a world of polyamory.
Your wife is afraid of you.
Things are hectic, you’re not working, but you get a check. And she’s far too sick to work.
Because she has a sensory disorder, ptsd, mdd, gad, chronic migraines, and a few other unfortunate issues that you knew from the beginning but suddenly are too much for you to handle.
Your wife is afraid of you.
And you seem to never let her forget it.
And now, the doctors think she may have a brain tumor, and until they figure it out, with her loss of coordination and constant, excruciating pain, she can no longer work. So no money coming in means, well, what is your dear old wife good for now?
Thank goodness for your girlfriend. Atleast someone can pay the bills.
Meanwhile,
While the wife is laid up, it doesn’t matter how many loads of laundry she takes care of, how many floors she sweeps and mops, how many dishes she washes, how many dinners she cooks that you refuse to eat… It will never be good enough for you.
She’s losing weight, her eating disorder that you think is all in her head is eating her alive because you do nothing but tell her how unattractive she is to you anymore.
But it’s a choice right? She just needs to eat right?
Your wife is afraid of you.
You yell at her for showing affection for months, so she stops, and then a month without a drop of affection, without so much of a kiss, you yell at her for refusing a kiss from you.
You drink and drink and drink, your unmedicated bipolar disorder consuming you from the inside out, causing you to black out and tear everybody apart in the most volatile way…
Your wife is afraid of you.
She flinches now.
When you’re angry, she hides for days.
While you were blacked out you destroyed her artwork, you threw your wedding bands out, made her fish them out of the soiled trash twice like they meant nothing, laughing and telling her how selfish she was.
You took a knife to your shared bed, destroying part of it, laughing… We were begging you to stop…
Your wife is afraid of you.
You had her cornered.
She sleeps on the floor because the bed is too good for her.
To you, your wife is a dog.
You tell her,
“Your boobs are too small”
“your hair is too short”
“You’re talking too loud”
“I just can’t stand you!”
“Did I say you could leave?”
She can’t sit in the chairs.
She can’t leave in the car.
Your wife is afraid of you.
