Shame

There’s something to be said about the way shame eats you alive, hungrily feasting on all the self worth you forgot you had.

So unsettled in my own skin, never comfortable, no peace, ashamed of the position I’d put myself in. Wanting to bury myself under the choices I’d made, turn away from anyone who could see through my faux exterior of being in love. Of being loved.

It wasn’t love anymore, perhaps it never actually was. It was a situation I didn’t know how to escape from, deep down I always knew, and that’s what maybe hurt the most.

How had I been so desperate to be loved that I turned a blind eye to the glaringly obvious. I shoved the doubts down, stuffed them away, covered them up, hid them behind the sweet words that were being said to me.

I wasn’t going to let them ruin my moment of bliss filled loved. No, I wasn’t going to let these doubts rain on my parade, no, it’s all clear sky’s and rainbows for me. I was in love. I finally knew what it felt like to be loved.

I reasoned with myself, perhaps what I wanted in a man wasn’t so important, perhaps I could overlook some potential flaws. did it really matter if I supported him, that he saw my money as his own? Love is the most prized possession of all. What value does money hold if I’m not able to share it with a man I adore?

Being the breadwinner somehow felt empowering, satisfying a hungry ego based need to feel needed, to seem important. To have societal roles reversed, I was in the drivers seat.

Rich with gratification that I could afford to do it all. A weird sense of power that I’d be the one to slide him cash at the restaurant table so he could pay the bill as though the money was his, a false sense of masculinity as he’d tip handsomely with what I had earned.

Tripped up by my own shortcomings, I fell deeper into my own trap. Unexplainable desire for some kind of power, causing me to stumble, fall into a place where I lost all control. My sense of power gone, drained- running on empty, easy to control.

With no will to be found, no grasp on my surroundings, I found myself slipping into a mode of appeasing, sense of self nowhere to be found, suddenly living a life filled entirely of him. His needs, his desires, his decisions, his control. Easily manipulated, bended and moulded into a fragment of who I was.

Each time a friend or family saw through him, voiced their concerns, it was another knife to my chest, twisting painfully in an open wound I’d been trying to ignore. How dare they think the draw card for him was nothing more than my wallet, that perhaps he was using me, he was dishonest, unfaithful, always lying to me. That there was more to him than I chose to see.

I was losing focus of all I thought I knew, my circle getting smaller, contact with my family became few. Isolation growing, hiding myself from what others view. I couldn’t bear the pity filled eyes, their well meaning words of filled with worry slicing through me delicately.

Conflicting stories, whispers from people that knew, anxiety would take hold, never quite knowing what tale I would be told, what would it be this time, there was always something new. Consistently bracing for impact, expecting news that would split my heart in two, knowing that it would be countered with extravagant lies and dishonesty, pleas for me to see through the lies my friends and family had told to me.

No. It can’t be. That’s not it. It can’t be so, I would of known.

I wouldn’t see it, I couldn’t look, I wanted to keep my blinders on, there was no way I could confront the fact that I’d been fooled.

I’m a smart woman, it couldn’t be so.

Yet, the uneasiness grew and grew.

As the money went missing, my earnings disappearing in ways I saw happening before me and ways that had been hidden from my view, making me sick to the stomach hoping it couldn’t be true.

My boundaries feeble and weak, assuring myself that money doesn’t mean much at the end of it all. I had been lax in demanding respect of my money from the beginning, this was my bed to sleep in now, I couldn’t reign in any control.

My pathetic attempts met with sulking, arguments or sheer disregard I couldn’t be bothered to play out.

The lies came and confusion ensued, doubting myself, doubting my conversations, unsure of myself. I swore I’d placed that money in that drawer, surely I’d remember spending thousands, no, I’m sure I didn’t miscount it but you’re right, I’m careless, how can I know?

My love so strong that I knew no matter what he was struggling with, addictions and all, my love for him was unwavering, I’d support him. Addictions are all encompassing and people fighting them can’t think straight, I’m here for him though. Others facing addiction my Achilles heel, a space I offer perhaps too much empathy.

Maybe it’s not his fault, maybe he loves me after all, how can he be responsible when battling a hell of his own?

As money disappeared so did his fawning and love. His attention dwindling, replaced by what is closely described as repulse. The swift change in interest filled me with insecurity, my sanity spiralling on how to rebuild our love.

What was happening here, why doesn’t he adore me anymore? Why isn’t he attracted to me? What did I do?? What did I do wrong??

After a year or so of obsession, can’t take my eyes away from you type love, affection and sweetness, every waking moment an attempt to make my day bright, the stark contrast destabilised me, had me searching for flaws in myself.

Fuelled with desperation to please him, to win back his love, to figure out what I’d done wrong. Was it my looks? Was it my body? Was it something I’d done? Was there someone else?

Round and round fear riddled thoughts raced through my head, I couldn’t work it out, I wanted to throw up, I began to hate myself.

Still clinging to those undeniably beautiful love sick-‘you’re the most amazing thing that could happen to me’ type memories, scrambling to reclaim the love that was lost. Longing to feel desired and adored, to feel like the most amazing woman in the world once more.

Can’t we go back to that? I’d plead and plead, begging him to be honest with me. Hit me with the cold hard truth, give me some clarity, tell me something to ease my distress, just tell me what’s going on, my mind can’t ease, thinking of every single painful reasoning, stop making me guess, help me out, tell me what I need to fix, if there’s someone else just tell me so, not knowing what’s going on is killing me so. I can’t rest, I can’t think straight, I’m drowning in a pool of self doubt, I can deal with any truth, I just need to know. Let’s fix this, I know we can, you loved me perfectly once, we’ll get there again. I don’t care about the money, I don’t care you’ve fucked up time and time again, let’s work this out, you said I was perfect, I was a dream come true, you couldn’t take your eyes off me, you made me feel like gods gift to earth. We can fix this, just tell me what’s going on dammit, I need to know.

Yet the idealisation wasn’t real, a fantasy too good to be true, a carefully curated illusion designed experience created just for me. A sick part of a fucked up game to hook me on a fantasy.

Used in an artful fashion to learn all my insecurities, my weaknesses, the love I yearned for, carefully noted to be used against, hit me just the right way. Each moment of vulnerability thrown back at me, to dismantle my self esteem down piece by piece.

A slow, gradual progression to being just a shadow of who I was. Hiding so much of myself to keep the peace, to avoid scrutiny, it was clear not much of me was acceptable, my opinions, my parenting, it was never right, just never enough.

Words chosen to pierce through what was left of my self esteem.

My mind skirts back to a memory, an argument over a comment that I believed in angels. He scoffs, ridiculing me over my beliefs, the absurdity of how my mind works. Id been perplexed for a moment, questioning him “You're Christian though. The angels are the same angels, they are the same angels of the God you believe in, how are you telling me I’m wrong?”

The rant filled with mockery that followed reminded me why it’s always easier to keep my mouth closed.

By the time I saw it, figured out the game I was in, it was just too late. Too painful to admit to myself he never loved me, shame filled, the blindfold I wouldn’t take off finally slipping.