The darkness

I feel how the bad bitch is taking over. I'm raging, I'm mean, I'm angry and frustrated. Fuck you! Fuck this shit. Fuck. Fuck Fuck. I want to scream and punch. I feel every dark emotion. Pouring out of me. I try to behave. I try to push it down. I try to shrugg it off. And finally I'm stopping. What do I desperately try to tell myself? What's going on? I was violated. My clear and honest boundaries was massively violated. I hate to say it. I told you so. The fucking condom is canary in the mine. A man of true honour and with true confidence and presence, is doing this effortlessly.

I'm learning. After a hard winter with so much illness, his true colour is showing. Still I don't want to blame or shame. Really I don't but I need to put it into words. Process it. Digest it. I'm learning. 5 months. Not 20 years. I know my value. I don't do breadcrumbs anymore. He couldn't give me emotional support,  he was complaining about me spending time with the kids, he shamed me for being sexual and erotic ( I was so so so clear on this) he is accusing me for his tiredness and now he is asking me for practical help. I was short and clear. I don't have the space and time. But what about next weekend? Again,  I'm done. My energy and time is used elsewhere. But I miss you. Not my problem anymore. But I need you to help me. Not my problem anymore. I want more time with you. ( He showed up on time twice in this 5 months) Not my problem anymore. I miss fucking you!( What? Really?)

Not my problem anymore.

I have been very conscious in not fighting or arguing. I'm short, clean, more or less neutral in my feedback.

I observe my own emotions and responses. I'm doing my best to see what I can learn about my own ability to be clear on my boundaries and time. I do my best to not making up stories on why he is behaving in such way. It inspires me to be a better mother. To use my energy and presence to truly be there for my teenagers. To let them feel supported and seen. I know this is the main wound. His relationship to his mother. Me being soft, submissive, caring and loving switched him straight back to his younger, wounded self. No wonder his sex drive dropped. Yes I'm kind of reading this into it. Making stories. I forgive myself doing so. I kind of need to make some sense out of it. He need so much help and care. He needs a home and a safe space to unpack his nervous system. He needs comfort and mundane. And that's okay. But I'm not the one giving it to him. He isn't able to give me emotional support and the erotic is out of the question. He hasn't anything to offer me. Sad but true.

I know I love to give. Effortlessly. Easy and with joy. I know I'm good at it. I don't have to practice that anymore. That's second nature. I need to learn how to receive. Protection. Provision. Support. Sexual mastery. Good health. Stamina. Healthy emotional support and clarity. Mutual effort. Given freely and with deep respect and need to serve each other. Not perfect. Just two people willingly to do the ugly and hard, together. Mutual understanding of growth when it hurts like hell. Here it is. In the hurt and the pain. The opportunity to expande and explore how to love deeper and more real. I want a man with a hard cock. Strong heart. Clear mind. I'll worship your cock no matter what. I'll be gentle with your heart. I'll give you peace of mind. Let me serve you. Let us together grow into something glorious and real. With deep devotion to each other and what we are creating.

Karma is real. And she's a bitch.  Learn the fucking lesson and move on.

Phew. Thank God for this space. Thank you for witnessing me. I love you