VibrantNonsense

i kept journals during the relationship; and i feel pained about them. in the beginning i was bright and fast and self-aware. i wanted out much earlier than i remember. i felt things were toxic by the fourth month; i was beginning to wonder if it was abuse by the sixth. she got physical by the ninth.

and it's shocking to see my own spiral away from sanity. in the beginning i was horrified by each breach of my trust, every boundary that was crossed.

towards the end; i am unrecognizable in my affect. my writing is barely decipherable. i allow her to say horrific things without even remarking on them, because i had become so used to mistreatment. asking for an apology would have been asking for the argument to escalate.

it was genuinely easier to just let it go; to let her say whatever she wanted, directly to my face.

i tried everything. i tried reading self-help books and walking her through what i needed in a conversation. i tried explaining that we don't use accusatory words like you never or you always. i tried explaining how traumatizing it is when she gets angry like that; i tried talking about my past; i tried therapy-speak. i regulated myself, i apologized first, i tried to lead by example. i tried explaining and then over-explaining. i just wanted peace. i wanted any one situation to actually feel safe for me.

i thought i was being a good communicator; i was begging.

it isn't that i was ever convinced of something so obvious as my skin turning a full and solid green: but she could have said that to me. she could have said you have green skin, i know it, just admit it; and i would have (most likely) agreed. i was able to read her moods in the air like smelling rot at a bakery. if accepting that i had green skin meant i could momentarily avoid an argument, i was going to do it. i would have held out my arm and looked at it and then lied to myself about it. i would have said she just meant that i do have a yellow undertone, don't i? what she probably meant is that my skin is like green-ish, that i have a yellow-blue tint in certain circumstances.

and alongside this is a factor of gaslighting that most people don't see: part of it is that these are people incapable of listening. it isn't just that they manipulate and lie to you: it's that your truth is completely eviscerated. it begins with small things (asking if you're sure about a recipe you know by heart, asking if that artist really sang in that song) - and by the end they are saying that didn't happen like that, you're misremembering.

you cannot ascertain what "true" is because they constantly deny it to you. outside of arguments i would find myself pointlessly defending facts i knew to be true. in arguments - well, who is going to argue about semantics when facing down a rabid bear?

and of course, the final power over you: always, the fear. like an animal in a trap; i had no imagination or space to consider self-actualization. instead all the room in my brain was focused on staying safe, not staying sane. and one must be a little insane to survive a situation that defies sanity. all of my processing power was put into keeping her happy - what room is there for truth in that scene? am i really going to say no, i remember that clearly - when i know it could result in direct harm done to me?

and the thing is: once the experiment is complete, once you're confused and anxious and trying anything: they get away with everything. are you sure you saw the text? are you sure they said that? are you sure? because if you are, and this thing becomes real to you: what will you have to process? are you sure you're ready for the fallout?

we all think we'd be the exception; that we'd know it somehow, get out early. i was in therapy for years, and i still fell for it. i no longer recognized myself. i would find myself making excuses for her even when the abuse was obvious. and did i really want an argument? was i just misremembering it? i am oversensitive. maybe i just need to calm down and take a deep breath. maybe she doesn't even recognize what she did. maybe -

at one point, i was telling her a story about my past, one that was unrelated to her. i said the exact date it happened on, because i'd written it down. february 12. she said that's not when it happened. she said it was november. i remember saying i am pretty sure it is, i can get confirmation from my brother that's when it happened. she got visibly upset, doubled down and said she knew it was in november instead.

i ran the equation in my head, then. if i told her she was misremembering, she would explode at me. she would sob and possibly self-harm. she would have definitely been angry at me for correcting her. said some wild accusation like this is why i tell people you like to humiliate me.

instead of standing my ground, i backed down. even knowing i was right, knowing she was wrong. even knowing, with evidence, the truth. i said: "you know what? it might have been november, time is so wonky."

miku, miku ooweoo🎶