2003-09-28 @ 2:09 a.m. | Blast from the Past, Part 2

Song in my head: same

Mood: same

Current book: same


I'm posting this from my old saturngirl diary - in its original form - because it was relevant to the entry I'm writing tonight. I originally wrote this in July 2001, right after I left the Louse, so if you've read this before, my aplogies. But I actually don't think I had many readers then.. :-)

This damn Louse stuff, just trying to work through it...

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The last time he hit me was July 6th, 2002.

We had just returned from visiting my brother and sister in law and niece in Massachusetts. We'd been there from the 3rd until the morning of the 6th.

I spent the bulk of our time there stoned and drunk. Partly because it was a picnic with Aimee's family, partly because that's just what I tend to do when I'm with Marty, and partly because I'd been feeling increasingly worse about myself and I wanted to do anything I could to dull the pain.

My memories of the weekend are fuzzy. I know that I was increasingly irritable. I know that he and I were squabbling quite a bit. I felt picked on, by him, by Marty. I felt wrong. Like all I was was one big drain on everyone's life.

We got into a fight right before we left because I couldn't find the bus tickets. I was very upset; I know I said something like "I know it's all my fault anyway, it's always all my fault cause I'm just a big fuckup!" And that's truly how I felt. Like all I'd ever done was fuck up everything.

We went to the mall by the bus station before the next bus left and sat on a bench and I just started bawling. He'd been cold and distant and it seemed like everything I did pissed him off or annoyed him and I didn't know what I was doing wrong.

I barely remember this. It's so blurry. (I had also smoked a joint with Marty before we left.) I know he was getting increasingly angry with me while I cried and tried to talk about how I was feeling but it was all such a mess. I don't know what I said to set him off but I remember him thwacking me on the arm with a pen and it welled up red and he said something like "you get hurt too easy."

We made our way to the bus station and I felt sick the whole time, feeling like I had to avoid him, avoid saying anything or doing anything that would make him angrier again. Not that I was afraid he'd hit me, but just afraid of the anger, I hated it, I just didn't want to deal with it.

We sat apart on the bus and I alternated between reading and sleeping and trying to sleep and the whole time I felt like a horrible person. I couldn't get it out of my head how all I am is a nuisance to everyone I love. How I'll never measure up and how I could never be worthy of anyone's love and everyone would be better off if they'd never known me. Family, friends, everyone.

We wound up taking the train from New Haven back to the city and he seemed calmer and started to act more affectionately toward me. I was just in a daze.

Taking the bus from the Harlem train station home I clearly remember this: He'd been reading The Betrayal of America: How the Supreme Court Undermined the Constitution and Chose Our President, which I'd read on the way up to Massachusetts. He said something to me like "how could you read this book and not want to do something about it?"

I started bawling again and said, "because I'm just a fucking worthless excuse for a human being!" He was furious, but that was really how I was feeling.

We went upstairs to the apartment and I crashed on the bed, sobbing and heaving and crying hysterically. I couldn't get the thoughts out of my head how horrible I was. How everyone would be sad at first if I died, but they'd get over it pretty quickly and in the long run, I'd be doing everyone a favor.

I kept thinking about the bottle of Advil in the medicine cabinet. I didn't really think I'd take it, but the thought would not leave my brain, and it scared me sick. I've never been suicidal in my life. I knew that I wouldn't really take the Advil, but the fact that a part of me really wanted to terrified me.

As I was on the bed wailing, he was on the computer. I felt so alone and so scared, so I went in to him and told him the best I could in my delirium that I needed his help. That I felt worthless and scared. I think I tried to talk about the Advil.

Again, I don't remember much clearly. I know that I thought that he would understand me better than anyone. I remember back in March? May? when he'd been wanting to kill himself I held him and comforted him the best I could, I was really there for him. I just wanted the same in return and tried to tell him that, hoping he'd want to help.

Instead, he started hitting me.

I only remember flashes of this. I think he may have thrown me to the bed,raging in my face. I do remember being in the hallway between the bedroom and the bathroom, near my closet and he was grabbing my face in his hand while he screamed at me. It later left bruises on my jawline.

I know that I had a very sore painful spot on my head above my left ear. I honestly don't remember how I got it. When he emailed Brian he told him that he punched me in the head and slapped me twice and banged my head against the wall.

I don't remember any of it. It's all a blur. I read his description and I think, okay, that sounds like it could have happened. I am assuming that that's what did happen. I just can't remember it. I just remember being in the bedroom and hallway and bathroom and being scared and hurt. I hurt so much because all I wanted from him was some support. I was utterly bewildered.

Somehow I do recall we wound up on the bed, sitting down, and I was crying, he was crying, the hitting was over, and he was holding me and apologizing I think but also talking about how my words were hurting him as much as his hitting me hurt me, I think (I just have this impression that it was even.. I hurt him, he hurt me, it's all even...)

And I slept. Every cell of my body just ached for escape, for rest, please oh god just let me rest. The exhaustion was in my bones, my teeth, everywhere. I slept for close to 20 hours.

And when I woke up, again, it all seemed to have been a long ago dream...


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