The evening of December 31st was pretty miserable. I initially thought I had made myself sick by staying at the library too long that afternoon but we eventually realized it was a 48 Hour Rule thing. Two days earlier, on the evening of December 29th, my oldest was purging something that causes twitchy little convulsive stuff and was in agony and my youngest was apparently purging hexavalent chromium, which is very nasty stuff. For whatever reason, the 48 Hour Rule hit me the hardest. I spent New Year’s Eve in pain all night and threw up shortly after breakfast on January 1st. Happy New Year to me.
Yesterday, the library was closed and we were all salt deficient. So we had lunch, lazed around a bit to accommodate how tired and sick we felt and eventually made our way to the beach. Some time later after leaving the beach, I began effusing about how I loved my sons, I love this town, I love this county, etc. I think I am very close to being clear of the parasitic infection and I am certainly less poisoned than I used to be. I think my effusiveness was a reflection of feeling better in some very deep way. I think I am nearly done with this epic journey of battling to reclaim my health.
Most days, I sleep pretty well and I am usually not miserable. Since the last tablet went, I spend and hour or two at the library a few days a week and get more done than when I was online probably eight or so hours a day. In spite of my lack of a computer, my plans are moving forward.
Today, I have had the song “Sledgehammer” on my mind. More than two years ago, I made a public remark which was supportive and protective of Jay. I ultimately deleted it so I have no record of it. Following that remark, for the next week I had this song playing very loudly in my head. It was highly invasive. I suspect he had no idea he was broadcasting it to me. I had a hard time dealing with it. I saw some positives in it but I also felt emotionally assaulted. I could find no means to shut it out.
Today, perhaps because I am less sick and poisoned, I find myself seeing the incident differently. It has finally occurred to me that the phrase “I want to be your sledgehammer” describes a desire to serve my sexual needs, not a desire to use me. Unlike a lot of servile things, it is a masculine framing of service. It is not a framing that is emasculating or effeminate, yet it is expressive of intent or desire to serve. It strikes me as also expressing a kind of vulnerability with which I am not used to viewing male sexuality. Men typically seem to want to view me as their sex slave and themselves as my owner. They typically want to boss me around.
I remain frustrated that I still do not know how to resolve the situation between myself and Jay but, because of the above thoughts, I am again, at least for the moment, of a forgive and forget mentality. I resent it when he tries to whine to me about how self sacrificing he is. I loathe the whole martyr complex thing and I feel that, if he has done anything to rearrange his life with fantasies of getting with me, then I am merely an excuse to rid himself of things he isn’t actually happy with. I don’t owe him anything. That is a positive in its own right. Framing me as a damsel in distress so he can look down upon me while the reality is he is unable to free himself without using me as an excuse is something I view as unhealthy BS. I won’t accept another relationship where I am framed that way. The framing never seems to die and becomes, instead, an excuse to consign me a second class status in the relationship and act like I should be deeply grateful to my so-called “rescuer”…blah blah blah. It is insulting.
I left my corporate job envisioning him as my rescuer. I knew at the time that it was a thumb-sucking emotional security blanket. I don’t think he owes me anything. I told him clearly at some point that he didn’t owe me anything. As far as I can tell, he continues on his quest to become my rescuer while continuing to refuse to help me as a professional contact. My endless remarks about how I emphatically do not want his money, instead I want his backing and professional assistance, fall on deaf ears. I still believe I am an escapist fantasy. I still believe that if he really wanted to contact me, he could but he chooses not to. I still believe that if he wished to have a relationship to me, there is no reason we could not converse daily and be friends and professionally involved. I still believe he is merely scared and his framing of things very unhealthy. He has a hard-on over me and has turned that into all kinds of drama when it does not need to be.
With thinking today about the song and his broadcasting of it, it occurs to me that part of why I am so angry is because of how unjustly I have been treated. I protected him and helped him, this is why he felt attracted. The end result: I am framed as a villainous whore, plotting to get his money and destroy his family. The conclusion he drew is diametrically opposed to the conclusion he should have drawn about my character.
I continue to plan to save myself. A windfall would be nice but my preference would be that it come from some neutral source, not him. For example, I participate in Coke Rewards and I hope I win one of their gift cards worth thousands of dollars. I would be very happy to get a windfall of some sort to speed the resolution of my financial problems but I still see no means to accept a large lump sum from him and have that lead to Happily Ever After. I do not want to be his possession. I do not want to be a second class citizen in a relationship again. He fails and fails and fails to treat me as an equal, as a competent human being with value. He not only fails, he outright refuses. Talking myself blue in the face about it accomplishes absolutely nothing. He continues on with his plans to save himself from whatever it is he is trying to escape while imagining that it make him a hero and me a damsel in distress in need of his rescue and unworthy of real respect.
Over the years, I have known a number of very competent people who hid behind their degrees, their job titles, their high incomes and other indicators of social status. They all struck me as very insecure people. Their real value was their high intelligence. Their job titles, college degrees and high incomes grew out of their high intelligence. But they did everything they could to look down upon me though my intelligence was at least equal theirs.
Jay does the same thing. He is hot for me because I am his equal as a person, though I am not his equal in social status. He has perhaps never met another woman who was his equal. His feelings of being vulnerable, wanting to serve my sexuality and be in me, so scare him that he cannot admit it. Instead, he alternates between vilifying me as a harlot intent on destroying his life and envisioning me as the damsel in distress to the hero he desires to play. He has spent years cloaking himself in money, power and influence. I will remain nothing but an escapist fantasy. He isn’t brave enough to let go of his envisioned heroic role. He isn’t strong enough to accept a relationship of equals. He is fundamentally an insecure person and he clings to many security blankets. He won’t let them go. Being very intelligent has gotten him a lot of abuse. He won’t accept being an ordinary person ever again. He will lord it over everyone so he can’t be hurt, and this will result in him continuing to starve and be desperate.
I inevitably weird out people of his ilk. They inevitably find me enormously threatening. I walk though life rather nakedly. I know I am vulnerable and none of us is beyond harm. Kings and presidents can and do sometimes get assassinated. We all need to eat, drink, have friends, and otherwise deal with personal needs.
I am sorry for his suffering but I did not cause it and I wish he would do right by me. Destroying me will not mend his life, it will just deepen his problems. I will not bend to his agenda to own me. I will never bend. I have been on the street two years. Get a clue already and give up your battle to break me. Admit that it is an escapist fantasy. Admit that you aren’t ever really going to contact me. You are too much of a wuss.
I hope to make this my last post here. I have things to do to start my life over. Writing for Jay no longer serves much purpose. I can’t help him. I can’t convince him to make other choices or see me differently. I think perhaps it is time to accept whatever fallout occurs and just stop trying to meet any of his emotional needs. No matter what I do, it won’t fundamentally change anything.
