volcanic's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- things I say to you inside my head... Me: So, Arthur, what have you been up to lately, eh? I haven't heard from you in ages... Arthur: [Somewhat sheepishly] Well... y'know how it is, mate... I've been really busy, trying to get the house done up, so I can decide what I want to do with it- y'know- whether to sell it or not. And I've been doing lots of overtime. There hasn't been much extra work going for ages, and I need the money to pay for the house. And anyway, YOU never replied to the Valentines message that I sent you... Me: Aah- I wondered if you were going to mention that. I didn't reply because I couldn't tell why you sent it. I didn't know if it was a snidey dig at me, or if you were just being nice, or if it meant you were really thinking tender thoughts about me... Arthur: That's not fair- I wouldn't get snidey with you- why would I want to do that? Me: Well, I thought that maybe you were cross with me about telling people that I thought you were seeing someone else- Arthur: Yeah, I was a bit pissed off about that- you telling my mates that I was two-timing you. I wasn't- you know I wasn't. Me: Well, how come there were all those signs, like her phoning you and texting you, and that bloody condom in that new wallet that appeared from nowhere? And then there was you asking me if I thought you were having an affair. You even said yourself that your behaviour was typical of someone who was having an affair- the way you suddenly just stopped "loving me enough" and all that... Arthur: All right, calm down. I know how it looked, but I swear- swear I wasn't seeing her. I did feel a bit odd after I met her again after all those years, and it did make me question things a bit but... God, mate, you sound really fucked off... Me: that's because I am fucked off. REALLY fucked off. There I was, planning my future and getting ready to make my dreams a reality, and then all of a sudden you decide to change your mind, and decide that you don't love me enough to do it. I go from having everything I ever dreamt of to having to feeling like I've got nothing at all, and it's shit, it really is, to feel that bereft, and that hurt, and that bloody useless... Arthur: You're not useless, though, are you- Me: Don't you bloody tell me what I am or not. You're so wrapped up in your bloody self, you are, so stop trying to tell me how I am. I've had a shitty couple of months, since you went off on one and decided you needed to sort your head out. even before we split up- Arthur: Yeah, but we didn't just "split up", did we? YOU finished with ME, didn't you? YOU were the one who wanted to finish it just like that- I didn't want it to end, I just wanted us to have a bit of space to get some perspective on things, give us both a chance to see what we wanted and needed. But no, YOU thought you knew best, YOU wanted to end it there and then... it was YOU who wouldn't give it a chance... Me: [Silence] Arthur: I've been hurting as well, you know... Me: Good. Arthur: You what? Me: I said "good". I'm glad you were hurting, really glad you were hurting. In fact at the time, as far as I can remember, all I wanted there and then was you to be hurting. because I didn't actually think I could hurt any more. I'd spent that week after Christmas, waiting for you to get in touch- and I respected your space, didn't I? I didn't come bloody "knocking on your cave door", did I?- and it took you nearly a week to text me. A whole bloody week, where I couldn't eat or sleep and I felt tired and knackered and I looked like shit- Arthur: You don't. Me: Don't what? Arthur: Look like shit. Me: I know. I know I don't look like shit. I don't look like shit now but I did then. Christ, I had about eight hours sleep in a week- I was panicking because I was running out of sleeping tablets. I was too scared to have a drink or a spliff because I was terrified of losing that last little bit of control. I was feeling so sick all the time- it was disgusting. I literally couldn't eat... I'd wake up in the middle of the night and I'd be too scared to move because as soon as I moved I'd feel the nausea hit me in great fucking waves. It got to the point where I thought I was pregnant, which didn't help one bit, bearing in mind what was going on. Arthur: You never told me. Me: No. I didn't think either of us needed any more drama to deal with at that point. Arthur: See, that was the trouble, you never opened up to me, you'd never really tell me what was going on in your head. Me: That's so not true- Arthur: Yes it bloody is, mate- don't you think I might have wanted to have known that you were thinking you were pregnant? Me: Are you taking the piss? Do you seriously think I was going to willingly set myself up for more hurt and more disappointment? You wouldn't have been able to handle it anyway. You'd have fucked straight off back into your bloody cave and battened down the hatches while you sorted your head out... Arthur: And that's unreasonable? Sometimes people need time to get their head round things- Me: Yeah, and meanwhile, back in the real world, the rest of us are getting on with life, and dealing with it, not just bloody pontificating on it. Some of us don't have the luxury of shutting ourselves off and ignoring everybody while we get self-indulgent. Some of us have responsibilities and people who need us. Some of us have got real stuff going on that needs attention and dealing with, while you're shut in your bloody cave. And anyway, every time you say you're going into your cave, you end up going out and getting shitfaced. Arthur: That's not true- you're talking shit now. Me: [Silence] Arthur: Oh, all right- I did go out a few times... but can you blame me? You'd done my head in. I was in bits mate- bouncing off walls- I just needed to go and let my hair down- spend time with people who care for me. Me: I cared about you. Where did I fit in? Y'know, you forget it was YOU who asked me to move in with you. It was you who used to take me off driving round looking at houses, working out what we could afford. And it was all bullshit. I believed you, y'know. I thought you meant it when you said that we just need to build the bloody nest so that I could have a baby. You had it all worked out- how I wouldn't need to go to work. We'd cut back on all the overheads- that's what you said- and then I wouldn't have to go to work. And you said that if I just wanted to write, then that'd be fine, and that you'd be really proud of me and support me and everything. I don't think you meant a bloody word of it. I think you were just saying whatever came into your head at the time. I don't think you ever considered the fact that I actually believed you, and thought you meant it... Arthur: I never realised you were this upset about things. Me: Of course I'm this bloody upset. I'm still really hurting because you stopped loving me enough. What did I do to make that happen? I tried my hardest to make sure that I didn't cock this one up. I tried to be as honest and reasonable and good as I knew how. I was convinced that if I took everything I'd learnt, everything that I'd picked up from counselling and all that time when I was alone and thinking about stuff- I thought that if I took that and I used it and just tried really hard to be a good person then [sniffs] none of this crap would happen to me... Arthur: ... Me: [Sniffs again, crying openly now] I can't do this anymore. I can't do it. I've spent the last few weeks hoping and praying that you'd get in touch, and that we'd talk and that you'd understand and see, and that you'd have thought about stuff and everything. And now you're here, and nothing's changed and even though I'm still hurting, I don't want to keep having these conversations that just go nowhere... Arthur: I just thought if we talked- Me: If we talked what? That we'd both say we were sorry and that we'd have another go at things. You're taking the piss, mate. I can't do this. You're exactly the same as you ever were. None of it's your responsibility, it's all my fault for being so "clingy and possessive"... Oh yes, I know what you said to your mate about me, because he told me. He said that you told him that I was getting like your ex, getting jealous and possessive, and I never heard so much bullshit in all my life! Me, possessive? wasn't it YOU who had a problem with me seeing my friends? Wasn't it YOU who openly admitted you were jealous of the emotional intimacy between me and my best friend? Wasn't it YOU who didn't like doing things with my family, who resented the attention that my little boy demanded from me? Arthur: I just thought if we talked things through, talked about what we'd been thinking about for the past few weeks, now we've had time to get a bit of perspective... I've been doing some thinking, too, y'know, mate. I've not been a happy man. I haven't been out raving and getting mashed. I think I've learnt some things about myself too... when I said I wanted you to be with me, I did mean it... but I started feeling like I was getting trapped and I started thinking about escaping- Me: Like your plan to buy a camper van and go off to Prague? Arthur: Yeah, that kind of thing. I started to feel like I couldn't give you what you wanted and that the more you wanted me- Me: - the less interested you became. Arthur: Yes, mate. Me: Have you any idea how much it bloody hurt to feel that? To realise that the person you'd wanted to spend the rest of your life with was losing interest in you? Have you any bloody idea? I could feel my confidence and my self esteem just draining out of me. I was starting to feel more and more desperate and pathetic and crap and... Arthur: And then what? Me: And then from somewhere, I got this surge of strength. I realised that I didn't have to take this crap off anybody, least of all you. I realised that I was strong, and capable, and independent and warm and loving and giving and gorgeous and just bloody worth more. Arthur: And are you still feeling like that? Me: Yes. Arthur: So there's no chance that- Me: No, no chance at all. So... that's the conversation I've been having in my head every day for the past six weeks. it varies a little, from day to day- some days I cry, some days he cries, sometimes I hit him or disembowel him or just can't be bothered to speak to him at all. I've pulled a sickie today- for "mental health" purposes, because I've realised that the time and the energy necessary to Process stuff don't seem to coincide very often- and I decided that if I got this conversation off my chest then perhaps it might stop haunting me like some low-budget soap-opera of a recurring nightmare. I think I've earned my bath tonight. 8:50 a.m. - 25.02.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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