This is a recreation of thoughts I had a few hours ago. I have already let go of these ideas and thoughts.
I’m not THAT big of a weirdo.
“That’s one angry-ass dog.”
The thought and imagery just flashed through my mind like a bolt of lightning escaping from the very pit of hell.
One must be extremely careful when announcing the excellence of the day. Overconfidence can turn about and punch your face into a bloody pulp.
Overconfidence is not my problem by any stretch. No, the problem I face this evening is doubt and fear.
I doubt my sincerity when I claim to have had a great day. Those are such a rarity for me over the past few years, I think an average day is now a great day. It would appear my ‘awesomeness’ scale has been lowered dramatically.
My other issue is fear. That’s a never-ending monkey on my back.
• Does she really love me?
• Does she even like me?
• Is she planning her revenge?
• Did I damage things beyond repair?
• Will we ever be functional again?
• Are we doomed to misery?
My thoughts escalate out of control quickly and with ease. My mind has begin to race.
When My Bride arrived home this evening, she performed her evening rituals. Go to our room, remove her brassiere, put on my boxers and a t-shirt and sit upon our delightful couch. Those activities came off without a hitch. A few moments after My Bride sat down, I sat beside her. I didn’t want to talk. I was playing some stupid song for her. I was really just finding an excuse to sit beside her.
She recoiled when I sat beside her. She didn’t even attempt to hide it as she normally does. That cat was let out of the bag during therapy yesterday when she admitted to flinching when I tried to touch her. I sat down anyway.
My Bride withstood the discomfort of my intrusion for less than 30 seconds. It was as if a catapult had been stuck after the firing cord had been pulled. When the weapon freed itself, she jumped from her spot and did not return. Straight to bed.
I hung out in her spot for about a half hour. There was no mistaking what had just transpired. She was unable to sit beside me without freaking out a bit. My Bride quite literally ran from me and hid on our bed.
She gave a very vivid description of how she feels when around me in therapy. “I feel like the cat in the Pepe Le Pew cartoons. I can’t get away fast enough.”
That angry-ass dog reared his head at me. As he showed me his gnarly fangs I could see the saliva glistening in the light. He was loosening a guttural sound not of this world. I sat on the couch frozen in fear. Is this the time he will finally devour me? Are our good times lost forever? Has the magic between us been exterminated for good? Are our circumstances so perverted that the possibility of touching is sickening to her? Are things so bad she can’t even stand the sight of me?
The appearance and snarl of the dog has turned me to stone. He takes a couple of menacing steps toward me. As he does, an evil grin slides upon his face. “Are your good times over? Ha! Yeah, you fucked that chance over in a big way.”
He took another step toward me.
“The magic between the 2 of you? WHAT magic?”
“You need to realize, the very sight of you disgusts her. She is sickened by the thought of you soiling her with your filthy touch.”
“There is no chance that you will ever be close to her again. You’re such a fucking loser. Are you surprised by her revulsion in you? Your very presence brings her pain and suffering. The thought of touching you brings migraines to her head. She has thrown up over this before. You saw it happen.”
Two more steps.
He’s directly in front of me now. His foul breath is making me sick to my stomach. For each hot, damp breath he takes, I am splattered with his revolting saliva. He notices his presence is affecting me in a powerful way. He smiles even bigger as he takes his time collecting his thoughts.
He leans in even closer.
“You are a pathetic excuse for a man. Even when she wanted to be with you, you were couldn’t please her. You’re such a loser, you NEVER brought her to orgasm. No, you needed battery power to do that.”
He spoke directly into year now.
“You will never have her again. Don’t you realize you’re such a loser, she has chosen to NEVER fuck you again? You aren’t man enough for her. Whenever she feels like having sex, it’s going to be with that vibrator. She will always wait for you to be gone too. You don’t even get to know when she does it. She doesn’t want you and she sure as hell doesn’t want to give you the pleasure of knowing when she does it.”
He could see how his words were affecting me.
“The only reason she stays with you is obvious.”
She said she loves me. She wants to see our kids graduate, get married and play with our grandchildren together.
“You believed that? You’re a bigger loser than even I thought. Who’s going to pay the bills? Neither of you make enough to do it on your own. She stays with you out of convenience. You’re a financial decision. Dis you really think she would want to have anything to do with you after what you’ve done? When she looks at you all she sees..”
Don’t say it.
“..is a cocksucker.”
I sat on the couch as I cried.
I was frozen in my panic attack long after he run off. As tears streamed down my face I realized, that damn dog is right about a lot. She is disgusted with me. The thought of touching me is repulsive to her. I have never been man enough for her. Why would she want to be with me sexually again? It’s a disappointment every time.
Is any of that true?
You’re damn straight it is.
I don’t think she would ever admit those things to me though. She still might think enough of me to keep the seriously painful things from me. Even in her suffering, she tries to protect me.
She’s an incredibly special woman.
I’m not supposed to be writing things like this. When I have this type of thought, I’m supposed to tell myself I’m not a bad person. I’m just a guy trying to get better. There are a lot of positive things about me. I do almost everything right and just a minuscule amount if things wrong.
Get rid of that stinking thinking.
Of course, that’s all bullshit. I would never believe myself. I lied to myself for too long. I can’t start shoveling bullshit like that into my mind again. It’s not even remotely realistic.
Panic attacks started up again 2 days ago. It has been almost a year since I had been through an attack. When I panic, my mind races out of control. It produces quite a lot of unhealthy content. My mind seems to enjoy that type of work. He even thrives on creating nightmares.
How do you wake up from a nightmare when you’re not asleep? The monsters that haunt me don’t live under my bed or in the dark. They live in my mind.