Am I a masochist? Absolutely not. Am I drawn to violent men? No, they are in no way attractive. ‘Men’ who gratuitously hit and bully women are pretty much pondlife.
I’m making no excuses for this situation. Just recording it, venting a little maybe and trying to get a perspective. After all there’s pretty much no one else I can tell (I have one friend, Maurice, who knows, and refrains from trying to control me or the situation, he’s too wise for that).
I have no choice it seems but to be a human punching-bag for a person who totally lacks the strength and inner resources to handle his demons alone.
Take yesterday. The previous day I had made it clear I didn’t want to see him and had nothing to say to him. Then yesterday he called, I allowed a short silence and simply replaced the receiver. I literally locked myself in my bedroom. There was NO ONE I wanted to see. I vapourised essential oils in the room and cleaned and tidied it, organising the toiletries and other items.
This was partly driven by a feeling of ‘enough is enough’, because I am broke financially and live with two pisstaking freeloaders, one of whom recently lost his job and is too dumb to have amassed any savings whatsoever, despite being the same age as me etc. I wanted to save money by not going out at all and avoiding Solly.
Hmm well Solly nonetheless arrives and goes on the internet, for several hours I remain happily and calmly in my room, sorting through old photographs and letters, reading my beloved books and listening to Chill on the digital radio.
I go and fetch my dinner which I prepared early on and take it to my room at about 4 pm. At which point he comes upstairs and starts demanding his clothes through the door. This is a tried and tested ruse of his – it’s NEVER about the clothes, it’s ALWAYS about trying to control me. He kicks the locked door open, breaking the lock in the process.
Remember I have started to eat my dinner, but don’t get very far. He cannot accept let alone respect the fact that I just want to be alone. I guess he can’t relate at all, since he can’t tolerate his own company for very long it seems.
God, ‘Satan’ is UNBELIEVABLY boring and predictable. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Same old same old. Never seems to be enough, it can’t get enough of hearing itself go through the same old motions and the excruciating sense of deja vu for me can only be imagined.
He lies down on the bed, I experience the whole thing as a violation and an intrusion, something entirely alien has entered my sacred space (and don’t imagine for one moment that he is not fully cognizant of this). Anger, tension, fear swell up from inside my body, my heart begins to pound and I’m sweating. In the confrontation he begins to physically attack me again. I am still chewing on lettuce at this point, and spit bits of it out while screaming at him to leave.
Somehow we end up downstairs. At one point he issues a slap to the face but I honestly can’t remember everything. I grab the phone and call 999. They already know the address, I confirm that it’s correct and then tell the policeman to piss off for telling me to ‘calm down’. I replace the receiver.
Solly leaves, having got right in my face to run his gums about how he will ‘tell his brother’ and I will ‘see what happens’. I am way too outraged to be intimidated, and mock him even as I’m defending myself from the sofa. Is there anywhere or has there ever been something as pitiful and ridiculous as this performance? He’s come to launch yet another totally unprovoked attack, then wants to make like I’m the bad guy? What freaking brother? His own brother hates him and he knows I know that. It’s utterly absurd.
So ‘Satan’ is so terrible, so clever, so powerful, is it? How can you even be scared of something so unbelievably dumb, desperate, ugly and pitiful?
The police show up and ask if they should come in, I tell them (red in the face and sweating visibly) that I can’t bring myself to care one way or the other. I don’t tell them who it is but get the impression they know only too well. They eventually leave, they don’t come in, I hear sirens as they depart.
OK, we have one unhealthily obsessive, alcoholic and mentally unstable guy, periodically possessed by ‘Satan’ and a total expert in sly passive aggressive attack (in other words, he is skilled in ‘pushing my buttons’ or at least trying to). One woman who just wants a quiet peaceful life and has learned how damn unpleasant it is to be around him when the demon surfaces. I didn’t lock him out of the house because there’s Just. No. Point. ‘Satan’ is no respecter of locks!
There is fuck all I can do, honestly. He is running scared from his own self, in fear for his life and feels I am the only one who can save him, yet he has NO CLUE how to behave himself around me. He talks of ‘love’ but has NO CLUE what it means. This scenario has got to be familiar to peeps who have ever taken an interest in obsessive relationships/stalkers/spurned ex-lovers who end up murdering the object of their passion.
But by the same token I fail to react with any genuine fear because I know exactly what I am dealing with and have no fear of death whatsoever. I simply ensure I do nothing to provoke an escalation of the attack so I don’t have to blame myself later.
Well, no bones broken but my right leg is very painful to walk on. Not much in the way of bruising this time.
I can’t take ANYTHING seriously anymore. And what’s the point in leaving the house? I prefer to be alone with my books and thoughts. I’m in no way lonely. I really want both of these guys to just move out at this point. Douglas losing his job and having no money to pay the rent is one pisstake too far (not to mention small thefts of my food). I’ve told him not to talk to me and I just ignore him and make like he isn’t there.
My son is a tower of strength to me. He is the only person who loves and understands me well enough to act as some kind of counsellor. We don’t actually speak, we don’t need to. I write him emails as and when I feel moved to. I have his pictures, and look at them for solace, because there’s so much understanding in his eyes.
I’m my own husband now. I have to be. My inner man loves my inner woman, honestly it’s enough. I’m at peace.