Okay, for whatever reason today is the day I have the energy to address (or ramble on about) my feelings about the whole 'invisible blog' thing. I'm quite angry but maybe there is just one, tiny positive about it. This is my logical, yet brief, attempt at finding a silver lining.
In temporarily restricting myself from publishing I almost feel a little extra freedom to say exactly what's on my mind instead of censoring myself as much as I do. I know it's hard to believe that in some of my more extreme and emotional posts I'm still holding back, but it's often true. This whole "delayed posting" thing I'm doing right now, I think, is going to give me a little more courage to tell it like it is. Which leads quite nicely into why I'm so angry about the whole thing...
In temporarily restricting myself from publishing I almost feel a little extra freedom to say exactly what's on my mind instead of censoring myself as much as I do. I know it's hard to believe that in some of my more extreme and emotional posts I'm still holding back, but it's often true. This whole "delayed posting" thing I'm doing right now, I think, is going to give me a little more courage to tell it like it is. Which leads quite nicely into why I'm so angry about the whole thing...
I know the decision to go exclusively into "draft mode" was mine and mine alone but I almost feel forced at the same time. When I found out my posts were being printed out to be somehow used against me in a legal setting I was shocked and confused; it didn't take but a few extra minutes to feel very much like I did right after the break-in. Violated.
So, this is what I have to say to you, Steve... paying attention?
Who the hell do you think you are? As if it's not bad enough that for close to two years you've made me feel trapped, anxious and nauseous; even before our relationship was over you became paranoid about all my friendships and I had to defend myself against what you imagined I was doing, literally, on a daily basis. You exhausted me, wore me down and honestly frightened me. But for some unknown reason I still felt bad for you, I still wanted you to be happy, feel good, have friends.. and that's why I stuck around, trying to be your friend. Feeling empathy and compassion for you was the biggest mistake I ever made; it wasn't my job to take on the role of protector. After everything you did I kept tolerating you, knowing that if I didn't, you'd just escalate.. if I don't stop when you approach me, you follow me.. if I don't answer all of your questions in triplicates you name-call, accuse and badger.. if I don't take your calls, you show up.. always the same cycle, over and over.. you want to know every detail of my ordinary existence.. tell me again and again and again how you feel (which never seems to really change).. why you keep doing things that get you into trouble over and over and nothing you say ever makes sense! It always leads back to the same conclusion, that it's not your fault.. somehow I'm responsible.
No, I'm not done yet... Listen up.
You've taken too much from me already and burdened me with your baggage on top of it. You stole my sense of freedom and replaced it with temporary panic whenever I see you in town. You stole my sense of security and replaced it with nagging worry every time I hear a noise outside my window at night. You stole parts of my life and memories when you fed my computer and my photos to the Saco River and left me depressed. You damaged me emotionally and now, in trying to defend yourself by making me look unafraid, you've taken how I process all the garbage you've put me through, my blog, and attempted to use it against me.
Just so we understand each other...
I know you so well and still you surprise me with your bizarre, erratic and dangerous behavior. You know me, so you know I mean every word on this page. I am done being compassionate toward you. I'm done managing my safety by tolerating you.
I'm taking back control of my life right now.
No, I'm not done yet... Listen up.
You've taken too much from me already and burdened me with your baggage on top of it. You stole my sense of freedom and replaced it with temporary panic whenever I see you in town. You stole my sense of security and replaced it with nagging worry every time I hear a noise outside my window at night. You stole parts of my life and memories when you fed my computer and my photos to the Saco River and left me depressed. You damaged me emotionally and now, in trying to defend yourself by making me look unafraid, you've taken how I process all the garbage you've put me through, my blog, and attempted to use it against me.
Just so we understand each other...
I know you so well and still you surprise me with your bizarre, erratic and dangerous behavior. You know me, so you know I mean every word on this page. I am done being compassionate toward you. I'm done managing my safety by tolerating you.
I'm taking back control of my life right now.
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