This is like a journal entry. If you don't like that stuff or don't care, don't read it. I want to talk about it because I never could.

Not a doubt in my mind, I will never touch him again. And that is how it has to be. But I haven't been able to touch myself without thinking of him for years. The sexual connection was really strong. Maybe that's why everything else between us was so awful. So I just haven't been touching myself.

Today some sexy pictures we took came up. I ached for him and felt sad because I know I've lost something in that way. I've never wanted anyone like I wanted him. Or had so much fun having sex. For hours we'd go on, mostly me ravaging him. I know he's addicted to me.

But I'm not addicted to him anymore. I am sad but I don't want his hands on the back of my head anymore. There was always an uncertainty between us and I never quite received in any amount close to what I gave. I honestly didn't mind, I love giving. But it was that I had to ask for everything I liked over and over. And that conveyed itself through the whole relationship.

He was also insanely confusing and we could not compromise where we clashed. His mood swings were brutal and I was punished a lot. Many times for things I didn't do, didn't say, didn't feel. The biggest issue is he knew he was hurting me and he still dug that knife in over and over. I probably hurt his ego and his feelings plenty. I didn't understand and I couldn't keep up. He was like bipolar at ludacris speed. So eventually I joined him in his anger more and more. I was changing. The stress was not good for fibromyalgia. I didn't do anything I liked doing. I had to hide things from him so I could have space. I had to worry about him with other women. I felt frozen waiting for him to text. Waiting for him to do what he said. Waiting for him to be the person he said he was going to be. Waiting for changes and instead getting patterns. We at least identified the cycle together but he will never be accountable for his part. I have waited for that for years. And the promised change. He is undoubtedly one of the most selfish people I have ever known. And it finally hit me, he doesn't understand my exhaustion because he doesn't care. He isn't changing because he isn't going to.

His words and accusations were abusive. His actions no better. He had some issues with stealing and lying, among other things. I don't doubt my own issues arose but I didn't match his. I didn't want to match his energy. It was all very dysfunctional, even the good sex.

He hadn't seen my son in years now. My son didn't like being around him so I didn't make him. I should of left right then and there.

He wanted more commitment from me. He wanted to marry me and it broke his heart that I didn't want to marry him because I just don't want to get married again, I didn't need that to commit. But I did see him less and less also. He has been miserable since I met him. Funny but mostly miserable. It got really bad. The abusive moments got really bad. I never felt scared of him, it was more like if a psychotic toddler was abusing their parent. Sometimes it was unbelievable.

As time went on I couldn't count the apologies. I felt stupid listening to him make the same ole promises. I'd withdraw more. Nobody even knew I was seeing him. I didn't consider myself in a relationship anymore. He swore we were but we were barely hanging on. All we had was sex and the huge weight of his stress.

I just couldn't do it anymore. We were over but still trying to be friends. He had no concept of my boundaries. I've been exhausted and in a ton of pain but he'd still get upset because I wouldn't go to the water park or hang out with his friends that are mean to my kid. We'd still have sex sometimes but he barely touched me before and towards the end I was dying for touch. He would put his hands in pockets to not touch me. I was begging him for scraps and he probably felt the same of me. It was destroying my nervous system. Causing flare ups. I just wasn't myself.

It doesn't work. There's no getting better. There's no going back. The end was wild. When he gets wound up he makes no sense and he comes up with the craziest stories. He tells me how I feel, what I think, what I should do, what I did, how I should raise my child, who I am, it's crazy. I'd be dizzy, exhausted, out of breath, panicking, shaking, with no where to go and no one to talk to. I did try talking to people here about it. A few people allowed me to open up and responded with encouragement. But some people get sick of it when you're struggling to get away. They don't want to keep hearing it so I hid it. I wish I hadn't hidden it. That made it so much worse. I wish I had a best friend IRL or a big sis or my Mama to slap me years ago for being weak.

Now I'm just remembering the good parts and mourning them. And the only thing I'm really missing is sex. And his dog. He didn't deserve his dog.

I'm letting the healing process flow. The ups and downs, taking extra good care of myself, nourishing and cleansing and calling my power back. I feel a pull to do some creative things already. Sometimes I let myself cry. He was the only person I had in real life. However that empty space, feels good. I'm not lonely. He filled me with stress. Had my hair falling out and my immune system weak.

I don't know what he really wanted or who he really was. I don't know how he feels now. I don't care. I hope he's cool. I genuinely wish him positive changes and future success. I don't want to be a part of it though.