2016-07-17 - 2:14 p.m.
I don't know what's happening so I'm writing down thoughts and feelings. This is hard. Something is hard but I don't know what. Nothing seems happy or exciting or hopeful anymore. Its comforting in a way because I feel a sort of peaceful resignation to the fact that this is my life. At least I have the answer. There's no more uncertainty, which might just be the price of hope being taken away. I fear everything and everyone. I resent everything. I'm tired of being told what to do and having to do it or get yelled at. I'm tired of having to be perfect. I'm tired of nurses, of PA's, of everyone that's trying to do their job like I am. I'm not nice. Yesterday after meeting some of George's family, we rode home on the train and everything was fine except that he hadn't kissed me that day or wanted to touch me much. He even sat across from me instead of beside me at the lunch. He swears all these little signs are in my head and maybe they are. But I thought that he's want to be with me when we got home. But no. He wanted to go work on a Saturday night. I guess I didn't expect it, so I got a little teary. It's not fair of me, as I built it all up in my head. He'd be so happy that I met his family. He'd be so affectionate and want to bond with me by myself. Give me some attention like he did the night we watched legally blonde (Wednesday). He was really affectionate then. And I hadn't talked to him the two days before. Is that why? Is he only affectionate when I withdraw? What do I have to do to get love from this man? It's not that much I ask, but maybe it is. And at my doorway, though I told myself not to, I got upset. I cried and didn't want him to leave. He said he'd see me Sunday night, which logically made sense in my head. But my head is overridden by the unconscious feeling, the culmination of small things that don't make sense, his seeming lack of empathy for my situation, the way he doesn't seem to worry about me or be needy at all. The one-man mind of it all. The laser focus on work, with occasional romance here and there. When he needs it. When he wants it. There is no all-in. There is no sense of continuity. He says I am not stable. And maybe he's right. But he is unaware of his own unpredictable moods, the way he waxes and wanes in the amount of interest he shows, the disappearance of sweet texts until he's in a good mood. He sees this as my personality. And I don't feel respected. I don't feel like I am truly someone he will level with. Perhaps I should control my anxiety, my childish tantrums. I'm a proponent of therapy. Maybe this is all me and not at all him. Maybe this is just because I have these borderline-ish traits, or mainly the difficulty trusting. If that were the only piece of the puzzle, sure. I would be willing to work on it really hard. If I thought that he'd be a supportive, willing participant, a compassionate and respectful ally, I'd admit to this. I'd ask him to join me and help me make it better. But I can't trust him this way. The way he brings up the past when we discuss things. The way he changes the subject, dodges my questions, seems uninterested in what I have to say. At best, I feel he can listen only if it's in a way that comes from above looking down. I would always be trapped as the one with all the problems, the difficult personality, the broken beneficiary of his pity. Perhaps I am the monster. Does that negate his distance? Does this mean that it is only my issue?
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