I have been having issues with my car. I have cried because it was the shit icing on a shit cake. I have felt disappointed in my luck. I have chain smoked about it. What I haven't been though, is furious. I haven't been alone. And what a fucking difference that has made. See, I believed that I was a shitty girlfriend because I handled stressful situations badly. Yet, all of those situations were me doing it alone. I had to beg for any effort shown from my ex. Labor on top of labor; that sums up my time with him. So yes, I yelled and screamed and threw things. I was taking care of me, I was taking care of us, I was taking care of our home, I made sure the bills were paid on time, I took the car to the mechanic, I made sure the parts we needed were purchased, I took care of keeping our cupboards filled, and I was taking care of him; all while he treated me like shit. I didn't know he was treating me like shit at first, then I knew but shoved it down because I loved him and I just knew he was a good person deep down. Then I knew he wouldn't change but I couldn't leave, every time I tried it felt like I had cut out a piece of myself. It was worse than withdrawal from cocaine and booze. I was addicted to him, and he had made sure of that early on.
Sometimes I wonder if his "wingwoman" isn't also an awful human being. Did she help him plan it? She gave me Molly and encouraged me to text him after a break-up to a dirtbag. She left us alone even though she usually hung out late. She gave us comfy clothes and said we could listen to music. Music. I had always thought we had bonded over music. We had sung karaoke together when we were co-workers. I thought he loved the same bands as me. So imagine my surprise when all of a sudden, he didn't love karaoke and never wanted to do it. And he stopped listening to music with me. He started shit talking what I listened to. I started not listening to music as much because we were always together and I didn't want to hear him say mean things and honestly, I was scared to let him know what I liked because he would make me feel stupid about it. I stopped writing because he said poetry wasn't talent and I never showed him what I wrote from before I stopped writing. So imagine my fucking surprise when a survivor of his wrath informed me that one of the things, he told her was that he wrote and loved writing. I didn't see him write a damn thing for the entirety of knowing him. Even cards he gave me were quotes from movies or TV shows I loved. Looking back, I know it was all filthy lies. Everything he does is a lie. He has played so many characters that I don't even know if he knows who Zackary (Zachary) Andrew Couch is.
What a sad existence that must be.
I however had car issues today. I said to my supervisor "It's gonna be okay. I'll figure it out tomorrow." It had been a long, hectic night at work and still I felt acceptance that I couldn't do a damn thing about it. Even now I feel a sort of calm. I'm poor, depressed, anxious, and struggling with my sobriety. Yet I am still doing better than I ever was following him around.
It’s going to be okay.
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