Heartbroken

All your words mean so much to me. I treasure the support and love here. I wish I could respond individually to every single one of you, you are so helpful and a deep comfort to me. Even though we’ve never met, you all know and understand my soul. Thank you.

I have cried so much this week. I just break down constantly. In the morning I cry in bed… spontaneously cry during the day, then I fall to pieces when I get into bed at night. In between, I’m just trying to navigate through the day, and of course try even get out of bed which is difficult. My life feels pointless, painful, unbelievable, so messy, lost. Having a shower and making myself dinner is my major achievements.

I also think I’m moving back and forth in and out of denial about him not loving me. I just can’t believe it, doesn’t seem real. I experience moments of the most extreme pain, then later think no this can’t be, he’s just not making sense, he’s lost his mind and isn’t thinking clearly, this can’t be real… I feel appalled at myself, because the writing is so strong on the wall. He doesn’t just act like he doesn’t love me, he’s actually literally told me!

Now, rather than call it “no love” he’s going around to meetings and his sponsor calling it “his detached love”. They sure know how to make things sound much less shameful and more innocent, don’t they?

Then he said to me the other day, “I have more feelings of love for you if you’re in person, than when I’m on the phone to you”. I was like huh? That makes no sense. What difference does it make whether I’m in person or the phone? I am me either way! I don’t change my feelings for someone based on if I can physically see them or not! This is the type of absurdity and insanity I deal with from him. I think he was generally attempting to explain himself but he just literally makes no sense at all.

He has self-destructed into nothing. I get caught up thinking about the “former” him, the ghost, and just cry. I think what on earth, how can he do this to himself, why won’t he ever save himself, how can porn and some bitch’s boobs be worth losing this much. Because he assigns such high value to them and no value to me, that’s what affects me and makes me often feel worthless, even though I shouldn’t because I shouldn’t be defining myself by the views from a walking screwed up penis. My therapist tries to remind me of this too – who cares what a really mentally ill person thinks, he’s clearly deranged and upside down, why choose to define myself based on his distorted mind, when it’s clearly so fried and out of this world.

I pretty much said to him he has two choices –

1) REAL recovery and get sane. See a psychiatrist to assess for PD, treat addiction, depression, and all mental problems. Plus need to consider chemical castration.

2) No recovery. But must pay for my therapy for the next 9 years. Must support my needs financially in every way possible in order for me to rebuild my confidence, self esteem, and body image (liza’s beautification project). Then I will start dating and once I have found a new partner, he can stop and go do whatever the hell he wants with his doomed addiction life because I won’t care by then.

There’s no way I’m going to settle with him just ditching me so he can have a future with prostitutes. If his money, from the new job I got him, is going to end going to them, then it may as well be going to me! I deserve it! Not them.

I wish I could wake up not caring about him or about what he does. I want that, I really really do. I long and pray for that. It would be such a release.

I love the idea of a scrapbook to plan a new life for me. I already spend a few minutes here and there visualizing what I want if I meet another man. I feel happy when I think of that, it’s an uplifting feeling. I just wish my heart and mind wasn’t so tangled, sore, missing his ghost, sad about the past, and afraid.