Day 2 of 40

So I had thought about what I wanted to write, but then something happened today that had me rethinking my original thoughts. I have worked really hard the last few months on being stronger and decreasing my anxieties. However, today I had a confrontation with Jeremy that found me right back where I used to be. Completely crushed and heartbroken, so much anxiety it feels like I can’t breathe and don’t know how I’ll ever be ok again. Crying in my car in Walmart’s parking lot, just utterly lost.
I’m mad at myself for going back to that place. For letting him affect me in that way.
We have many things that have become issues over the years, but one of the frequent topics is sex. I honestly love sex. I feel like I’m a healthy woman who enjoys sex and desires it. I can’t recall the last time Jeremy and I had sex.
For me, it had become harder and harder to feel comfortable in that. The more he talked to other women. The more he put me down and called me names. The more he plotted behind my back. The more he told other people how horrible I was or how stupid I was or how inept. With each new action, it became harder to want to be intimate with him. That would have required a vulnerability that I didn’t feel secure enough or trust him enough to give.
Tonight it was made very clear that he doesn’t understand that and does not care. He threw in my face that he warned me that he needed sex in a relationship. He told me my “weird Missouri ways” and not wanting to have sex were going to keep me from ever finding anyone. How does he not understand that I can’t have sex with someone that has called me a cunt?  How can I have sex with someone that has told me to my face that they hate me?  How can I have sex with someone who planned to have sex with someone, likely in our bed, as soon as I was out of town?  
I tried to explain to him the night before that I was swallowing my pride for the millionth time and going to work on a relationship together. That we had to rebuild trust and I had to feel secure and SAFE.  He has basically said he doesn’t care and continued the cycle of abuse.
Tonight I sat in my car, in my garage, waiting for him to gather his things so I could leave. I had decided to no longer say anything to him because there was no point. So instead I sat in my car, with the windows rolled up, car running and radio playing to try to tune out the hateful words he continued to say to me through the window. I let him win when I started crying while he yelled at me. I let him see he had affected me.
That was only a small part of what happened but adds to the many things about him, about addicts, about this craziness that I will never understand.