So, my shitti(est) ex does not want to help me applying for a family permit in case my study permit is revoked. We’re already partnered, just living apart, so it wouldn’t be much of a hassle for him except to have to help someone. Me. Not only that, when I told him my insurance was being reviewed because my permit is for temporary stay, he told me not to worry about it since I’d be out of the country in two to three months, tops.
Before I called him this afternoon, I remembered how one time he locked me in the house for an hour and a half. That was my brain telling me not to ask him for this favor, no matter what. I knew it, but felt like I had no choice. And of course he mocked me.
If I get to stay, great. I know I’m on my own, no shitty or good(er) ex to rely on. That’s fine. It is what it is. The information provided by this ambiguous state, however? Fucking priceless. My other ex’s “sin” is to have said he loves me while not being able to incur in even the slightest discomfort (like me spending the night if I’m stranded in the city because of a train mishap) for me. So, not love but just care. This ex, however? Emotionally, physically, psychologically and spiritually abusive. Have always known this shit, and now that I’m down, he cannot wait to gloat in my misfortunes. The epitome of punching down.
You truly do know your friends when you’re down, don’t you. Not sure if I’ll ever be able to forgive him, but I sure as hell will never be able to forget.
When my decent ex broke up with me, none of my love for him went away. My heart was broken, but I still loved him fiercely. Trauma therapy (about my life prior to him, mostly in connection to my parents’ actions) broke a lot of the attachment I felt for him. Personal insights along the way -with his help- killed most of what was left. But the final blowup to that emotional base was when he said he couldn’t marry me so I can stay in the country. It would cost him nothing, except mental distress. That price is too high for him (as I suspected it would be, since me staying the night when I can’t go back home is also too much for him). He somewhat cares for me. Maybe he even calls it love, but that’s not love by my standards. No siree. You go above and beyond for those you love. Not all the time. Not when they cause you constant pain and suffering (because that means they don’t love you back). But when it’s a good person, and you see them struggling, and they ask you for help? Those are just actions you would gladly take, aren’t they? At least I would. So whatever it is he would call his feelings for me, it doesn’t matter now. A good distanced friend. Friendship apart together, if you will. That’s the extent that he can handle (and I don’t resent that). But I also wouldn’t (couldn’t) call that love. So there’s that.
My shitty ex…he married me on a spur of the moment. To secure the dependence of his prey to him. Less than a year later I got out of that shit hole. I’ve always believed in him. His capacity for change. But if he was so full of rage and disdain for me before, obviously, zero therapy and personal insights have done nothing for him. As expected. And I get him not wanting to help me now. Paperwork would be heavy (not that he’d have to lift a finger), and he does have legitimate mental health issues (unlike my coward good ex that would like special treatment when, if no diagnosis is present, just makes him a narcissistic asshole). So, my abusive ex is a good-for-nothing (legal) partner. Fine. Fair. Not the outcome I would’ve wished, but fair. Between pressuring him to help me and moving back to seeing my rapist pretty regularly, I’ll see my rapist fairly regularly. That’s how nasty he becomes. But…does he have to mock me? Take overt glee in my situation? This chicken’s got no feathers to pluck. Do you need to kick it? Do you?
That’s no “distanced” friend. That’s an enemy. That’s someone I need to keep as far away from me as possible. That “man” is no good. No good at all. He can only ever feel sympathy for things he has felt personally, and that usually means giving money/joints to addicts searching trash bins. He understands that crazed need, and so that’s how he “helps”. Securing his seat up in heaven, as he likes to call it.
So…unfortunately no close friends for me here. None in LatAm either. It is what it is. It’s always better to know where you stand in the world. As someone haunted by malaise and unease, I welcome truthful stances. My wish for friends does not yet supersede my fear of socializing. My need for a partner is dimmed when I get dick at home on a regular basis, but when it’s clearly casual, it’s still unsatisfying on a soulful level. A bit hard to stay away from stressful events as a Global South brown immigrant woman with low SES and Complex PTSD, innit?
Still, with the punches I’ll roll. I’ll fucking rise. I don’t know where, when, or even how, but I do know that I need to study Stats. I do know that I need to sew curtains for my apt rooms. To keep making myself delicious meals (not just for when I have guests/help with cleanup!). I gotta fucking hydrate (terribly parched as I write this)! There’s tons to do, and I hate limbo, but more than limbo, I hate inaction.
Excuse me while I go take care of my bidness.