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Context Part Three: Destruction

August, 29th 2017

We come to this result.

I am a walking bundle of chaos and happy that way. That makes anxious individuals want to control me. I hate people trying to control me. But it was their crippling anxiety at the root. I am not mad.

I truly believe they really didn't know they were gaslighting me. But they still were doing it. They don’t understand that it doesn’t matter the words aren’t exact, it is the meaning that counts.

Their anxiety disorder is on a level of my bipolar I and they are suffering in a way I can not endure. And they need help. Again, I do not blame them.

Yet I know they have hurt me very badly.

In a way I may never recover from.

I can not deal with such conflict again. I can not deal with abuse of my mental illness. I can not deal with prejudice. I can not deal with an emptiness of physical contact in a partner. I can not deal with someone who won’t just accept me for who I am - live with my faults and let us weave around them.

And I can never live with nagging again. I found out during two weekends alone, I can live just fine by myself. It takes me a while to pick up. But I do it. I do things at my own pace. And I’m more likely to clean for my own sake.

Vincent needs more help than I can give, and a better therapist. And they will not get a job that is not teaching, and they can’t with that reference.

And then there is the situation we are in now.

Vincent tried to bait me into an argument via messenger, four times. I have screen shots. They did this out of financial anxiety, worried I was running up debt. But I hadn’t used any of the cards. Even though I needed clothes I was waiting for a separation date. The only charge was for something I ordered earlier and didn’t get billed till shipping.

We had agreed the separation date would be when they no longer needed my money. That was last Tuesday. Last Tuesday is another story entirely.

But when I said I was closing the joint checking account, having paid their bills for the month, they freaked out. Even though they had two weeks to move everything over. But they had just said they wanted to meet to sign a summery dissolution. We couldn’t do both.

This was the fourth attempt, they had finally gotten me.

And when I refused to talk anymore, they ranted at me. I looked but didn’t know what to say. Now they say they will only go through a mediator, but I haven’t heard from one. I unfriended their whole family on Facebook and their closest friends. They blocked me.

Now I must go through moving, looking for work, and divorce at once. No big deal, right? Except I have a mental illness. It started badly, it will end better.

I wish they knew another way, a calmer way, one wherein they fight less with themselves and others. Outside the house they were an angel. And I loved our dates in San Francisco. At home they could be kind, rescuing me from tasks I was too frozen to do.

They cooked, and their food was delicious. They encouraged me to watch Netflix when sometimes I’m reluctant to break the silence I love so much. We had fun.

We had days where the stress was too much, and we would say “fuck it” and order delivery, climb into bed and binge watch something they had been meaning to show me. I treasure the memories of those days.

We had a fabulous wedding and many pictures of our shared love. Our honeymoon was sweet and with little incident.

They didn’t get my humour, but I got theirs and they were funny. I can’t rap, but I heard all about their master rap battles. They were good with puns, and I miss their smile.

But I am traumatized. The number of times I hit rage has scarred my soul. And I can never go through that again.

I don’t blame them. Their anxiety grows like a vine and chokes the ones they are closest to. May they seek treatment and find peace. For I still love them. And want them to be happy.

I just can’t be alone with them ever again.

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