November 2, 2009

I hate passive-aggressive, manipulative shitheads.

You know, the kind who project all of their weaknesses on their significant other, break them down, and suck the life out of them.

Then they call them a bully, dump them, and leave that person feeling like a black hole.

I dealt with that the entire weekend when a friend of mine came to visit.  Seeing how heartbroken and torn up she was on the inside just reminded me of my past relationships with abusive guys.

From experience, I’m going to have to say that it’s always a bit of fault on both ends when a relationship goes bad.  A few people I know try to shove all the blame on the other person… and others try to say it was all their fault.

It’s never one person’s fault.  Even in the abusive relationships I survived, I had something to do with all the crap that happened.  If I had been more willing to stand up for myself or had more confidence, then I never would have attracted those losers (or fallen for their bullshit) in the first place.  Certain aspects of my own personality brought out the worst in theirs, and vice-versa.  I made myself the victim, as much as I hate to admit it.

I’m doing better with that now, though I still have a lot to learn.  I stand up for myself, and I am beyond lucky and blessed to have found a man who isn’t a manipulative shithead, even if he is a bit more on the aggressive side.

But that doesn’t help in my friend’s case, and right now I kind of want to run her last boyfriend over while speeding in a Hummer.

Anyone have one I can borrow for the week?

Current Mood: Angry

My apologies for the lack of blogging the last few days, and thank you to those of you who expressed concern.

I’m okay.  Dealing with the eruption of memories that hit me last week (see my last entry for details) left me in a state of what I can only assume was a bit of post-traumatic stress.  I wasn’t in a good spot to sit down and write while my mind dealt with everything.

I partied like a rock star the entire weekend to cope, and luckily, a friend of mine came to visit, so I had a lot of distraction.

A few days of dancing like crazy, drinking, and dancing and drinking until I woke up with swollen Pillsbury Doughboy feet this morning has left me feeling physically exhausted but mentally rejuvenated.

My broken toe just may never actually heal, but dammit, I’m going to be okay.