Journal

The reality of the battles with him…

For a while it was like a constant battle with him. And when I say constant, I mean the shit. It seemed like there were so many conversations that had him ready to throw the towel in just much as I.

I proceeded to walk through the house. Angry as fuck. I didn’t give a shit what he said. What he said was wrong. There was no need to take it there. I can’t stand people who feel like they need to bring hateful words to a sensible conversation. All that does is make me flip the switch.

I was yelling at him back and telling him all the while to keep his mouth off me. I don’t walk in the door with guns blazing unless I feel threatened. But once that feeling of being threatened hit it’s like the gun has been there the whole time. I just had to ‘pull it out’.

“If you don’t keep your fucking mouth of me, I will have 5 generations back of women regretting you were even a thought. I would stop while you’re ahead. Telling someone the deepest, darkest secrets inside yourself doesn’t mean that you are giving them permission to turn around and use that information against you in an unfair pretense.” My whole mood: “I didn’t come at you like that, so don’t come for me.”

He stood there. Looking just as stupid as he did when he opened his mouth.

And for anyone who has been in situations like this, you know how badly you want to retreat into yourself when it’s just hit that point. See, I know in my mind it’s best to just walk away at a certain point. I cannot stand there and argue, fight etc because it will turn into a huge ordeal that is not all that necessary most times. In truth, there is a small part of us that wants to fight, right? I box people in my brain all day. And I’m pretty good in person; so if you don’t resonate I don’t blame you. And is there yet another part of you that wants to be just left alone? I feel you on that. See, sometimes there are people that antagonize for seemingly no reason at all other than to stroke their ego and themselves feel better. Narcissist. Gas-lighters.

Seemingly enough, his ego negated anything positive that his mouth said to me. Intensified conversations with The Creator. The heights of tension reached with just a look my way. Ready for war.

Far from worthless, far from stupid, far from inherently not qualified to be here; or so he would say. As if he sat one day and decided who should be here and who shouldn’t. I told him all the time he’s not God. I know God.

‘God is standing right next to me. And he won’t leave the room when I slap you across galaxies for talking shit to me.’ I said.

Silence.

There is a fashion of addressing someone that exemplifies respect for them as a human being and doesn’t degrade them within the first two sentences. I remember I used to think: ‘Once I leave him and heal myself I will find someone who won’t do this. Won’t talk to me like this. My father would never allow this. My uncle would be so ashamed. My mother would be so hurt. Not only will they know how much it hurts me, they know they’re going to get hurt as a result.’

I couldn’t make sense of anything other than what was right in front of me for so long. Seeing day in, and day out that the excitement of being with that person can wither away. I had so much hopes for us. I hate to think about the woman I was. Brings me to tears every time. It was just a really dark, low place for me. I have been blessed in life to know love. I have cheated on love. I have disregarded love. But this shit wasn’t love. And sure enough, it was a sickness I had to get away from in order to find the cure. When someone does you wrong, let it make you strong.

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