Hurry up with the lobotomy already

I don’t know what’s up with me today.  I’m pumping gas and some guy is staring at me.  At first I assume I must have something on my shirt.  When I look down and realize that I don’t, I start feeling even more nervous and begin to presume that maybe he thinks “she’s the ugliest bitch that ever graced this planet.”  And I want to run and hide and wonder why I didn’t just find a frigin gas station that had no one pumping at it.  Some remote desolate fucking gas station with tumble weed blowing through, like the kind you see on old TV westerns with John Wayne.  Except that’s ridiculous, because tumble weed isn’t indigenous to Massachusetts.

Then I get to the grocery store and I’m picking out a head of lettuce.  Red leaf and romaine are both $2.49, so I stand there paralyzed like a deer in headlights.  Apparently this woman notices this and in an almost chastising way says to me, “it’s not going to jump off the shelf you know.”  ‘Well no shit lady, I think to myself’.  But instead, I politely say while forcing a fake smile, “yeah I know right? lol”  But that’s just it.  I can’t make a fucking snap decision between Tropicana Pure Premium orange juice or Minute Maid.

Later, I walk to the post office to mail some seriously over-due bills, and I feel this pain in my left lung.  It comes and goes, every few months.  I even had a spiral CT scan in my 20’s which came up clean.  But because I used to chain smoke 2 packs of cigarettes a day, I have myself convinced that I’m a sneeze away from terminal small cell carcinoma.  I start actually wondering who would come to my funeral, my wake, screwed up shit like that.  In under a minute, my catastrophic thinking has me dead and buried.  All from a pain in my lung…..Who fucking thinks like this?

Maybe…….just maybe……… this has something to do with seeing my ex  yesterday.

He’s the ex-boyfriend, Daddy Dominant, sorry….. the sexual sadist. The man I’ve gone back to a thousand times after he’s treated me less than dog shit.   As we stood there in a parking lot to exchange an important document, he told me in a voice void of any emotion, that he was heading out to fuck a 27-year-old at a local motel and didn’t have long.  He is 52.  He doesn’t even know her first name and will never see her after today, but he will “use her til she’s raw.”

Tears began to well up in my eyes and I felt like I was going to puke when he said that.   He went on callously, “I’m sorry, but right now, sex with strangers is my number one priority.  Maybe someday I’ll want to stop, now I don’t.  I won’t ever forget you….you’ll always be my girl.  I think it’s best not to call me anymore, for your own good.”

His words hung in the air like a garrote, suffocating the last bit of air between us.  And as I sobbed, he approached me and stiffly put his arms around me for what seemed like a long time, except that I didn’t feel any emotions coming from him.  It felt almost obligatory, staged, a mere perfunctory task that  he must execute before moving to his next destination.

I can cook a mean lasagna.

I can give great head.

I can speak in several fake foreign accents and make everyone in the room laugh their ass off while doing them.

As a trained mental health counselor, I can de-escalate psychotic, suicidal, severely agitated, anxious patients in a locked ward.

I can read books to small children with enough enthusiasm to have special requests for” just one more”.

But for the life of me, I can’t love myself enough to walk away from him…..

9 responses to “Hurry up with the lobotomy already

  1. Great post. So great it makes me actually feel the connection you have with him. What makes you want him on the emotional level? Is it knowing that he loves you? The validation? That he makes you feel special or important? The rush? The dependency? I just think this is so fascinating.

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  2. Pingback: Isolation, or Aligning the Paths Leading Nowhere and to Lands Where Sybarites Erect Synagogues « Ex nihilo infinitum

  3. Oh my! Sending squishy hugs to you Lexi. Good post! Been there done that and got the emotional scars to prove it.
    Lobotomy! That’s good, I’ve referred to myself that way when I was talking about when I first met my ex and how he charmed the pants right off me.
    I wish I had some magic cure you could take to exorcise him out of your life. I don’t, just know that it does get better and you aren’t alone, and you are not crazy or defective. Its him.

    In the beginning I was just like you, I could pass a whole day sittIng on the couch, thinking (at times I wasn’t even thinking), crying, breathing when I remembered.

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    • I wish I could just blame him for being the sadistic fucktard.

      But in doing so, I would deny my own responsibility and culpability.

      I know that I have a role in the sick choreography to which I danced.

      There are times I feel possessed, literally.

      Wonder if he isn’t the devil himself….

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      • There were times I looked at JC and swore he was possessed or the devil himself. He could look and act so cold, cruel, say things so insensitive, be so calculating and cutting, he could treat me with such loathing it would send chills down my spine.

        I could not understand how one person could be two such opposite personalities and blame me for that hateful person he became. Even if he would have stayed in his evil mode I could have perhaps adapted to it but what really fucked me up was never knowing which personality I was going to deal with day to day or minute to minute and what set him off.

        I saw my ex this weekend, he came to me full of tears and apologies, I had so many questions of “why” but I just listened, no point in asking because he’d just lie. I know he was trying to manipulate me and that his new relationship must be hitting the skids but if I confronted him on anything it would only open the door for further abuse from him so I kept quiet and walked away.

        I know I played a role in my own abuse and that was the hardest thing to take and that my mother turned her back on me. But I’ve gone back to that man more times than I can count, I “believed” him when my gut told me not to, I accepted things I never would have from anyone else ever before him, why?? Why did I feel like a body part was missing every time he wasn’t in my life why did I literally ache for someone who treated me so badly?? I must be a really sick puppy.

        And yes not just everyone would fall for his crap, it takes a “special” woman to get sucked into his web. But I figured out that telling myself that I was sick and lacking wasn’t helping me be strong, it was giving him the power to make me feel no one could ever love me for me like he did. Do you understand that? It becomes a vicious cycle.

        I finally had to accept that I might never love or be loved again, but I was better off alone and that being with him was going to kill me either by his hand or my own. I’ve concentrated on finding me again, making friends, being me and realizing people like me and I am not sick, warped or lacking in any way. I did not deserve to be verbally and physically beaten, no one does, It is never of for a person to abuse another person. I’m sure he wasn’t that way when you met him, right?

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