Him. Short meaningless title, long post.

I met him on 4/20. We smoked a big joint, talked about deep shit, real shit and we hugged. I hadn’t had a hug or really any positive human interaction in many months. He was incredibly smart, a gifted musician and our interactions were poetic. He touched my face and kissed me. A Joshua Tree native, he amazed me like everything else about the desert. My heart cracked open, relief, he listened and he cared. I felt it and he was very expressive with wonder to be in my arms. We made out for hours. His intensity, sensitivity and gentleness begged for my love. The more of him he shared, the more I understood this was something I wanted to go for. We made incredible, passionate love. Slow and gentle, our intensity couldn’t end. We made love till 4am. I’d never felt anything like him. I felt like a goddess. I felt respected. He came back every night, then he asked to be a part of my life. He wanted to meet my son. I was leary, but also, I believed in him. His words and our compatibility were on fkn fire. It was chill at first. My son even asked him to spend the night, he liked him and they played video games together.

The next day he asked if he could bring his laundry over. He said he didn’t ever want to leave my side. He wanted me to be his gf. It wasn’t my house, so I said maybe one or two loads, I didn’t want to be disrespectful to the homeowners. He started acting strange and left without saying goodbye to my son. Later I found out he was angry. He told me I kicked him out and was upset I wouldn’t let him do his laundry. I was so confused. He was being sarcastic and berating, laughing as he insulted me for things I never intended, and am now convinced, didn’t do. So I begged him to come over and poof it was fine again.

A few days later he had to have a tooth removed but still wanted to come over. So I made him soup and we took it easy. That night he fell out of the bed. It was a tiny bed, so I offered him another. I could smell blood, I knew his surgery wound had opened and I gave him a minute in the bathroom to clean up, then when I walked in, he was throwing his things in his bag and getting dressed. Confused again. What’s going on? Are you okay? Then he starts yelling. I kicked him out of bed on purpose. Then sent him to another room. I didn’t want him around. He called me sinister. He couldn’t comprehend that I was trying to make sure he was comfortable. He wouldn’t listen.

The next day he was so apologetic. He said he was wrong.

Now this man’s Mama left him when he was six months old, and I cared deeply for him. I also know those sad feelings. I know trauma, abandonment and abuse and how I got through it on my own. I believed in my heart, the kindest thing would be to help him through his insecurities. Wouldn’t it be better with help? Nobody ever really helped me. Doesn’t everyone deserve love?

So let him back into my world again. Even though my son never saw any of the drama, he saw me crying but didn’t know why. Things were pretty great. Magical actually. Nobody has ever touched me like he does. Nobody talks and relates like he does. The passion, late at night, in the firelight, it still sends electric signals throughout my body. I loved him. I cooked, he cleaned. He would make us tea. He was affectionate and caring.

Then we had to leave Cali. My deceased Mom’s husband was moving out of her house and I needed to tend to it. He lives in his camper and has no money, so he couldn’t go with us, but he wanted to come be with us once we were back on the East. I wanted him there. We had been talking of sharing a healing journey. But I also haven’t had any space or time to myself in a year. Perhaps it’s strange, but I asked him for some time once I got back to check in with myself. To walk alone, think and decompress after 9 months of vanlife with an 8 year old. I never imagined that would be so hard to understand…

Plus, he’d just had another small anger outbursts a few days before. A miscommunication, like before, was being blown to epic proportions without me even understanding what’s happening. He never asks for clarity, he goes straight to, he’s done with me and I don’t want him. He says I have no room for him. And he kept picking at me about other men, which wasn’t even a thought I’d had. I was crazy about him. Though he offered love and lifting, he wasn’t supportive when I expressed my feelings about going back East, he made a jealous comment. He got angry because I wouldn’t let him call. I simply didn’t want to cry in front of my son again. I wanted to stay strong and I thought he would quietly support me as that’s what I needed. But he got angry about that too.

A few days later I bring up us slowing down, not moving in right away and my concerns about his anger. Of course, he blew up. This time was the worst. He called me names, he insulted me, called me baggage, blamed me for him not working or having money, all this crazy shit. For hours he laid into me how shitty I was while simultaneously telling me I was awesome. I cried and cried. Now my son was crying with me. I just couldn’t be mean. I knew his anger was simply fear and hurt. His limits were quick, he’d been hurt in life too. I tried to talk to him, but he just drug me through the dirt.

I should of cut him off then, he came back sweet, but this time arrogant. He felt entitled to his feelings and right to put me down. It didn’t matter how I felt or what my honest needs were, I hurt him and I should pay. I tried to stick up for myself and clear the air. According to him he had no service for the 3 hours I was texting him, even though he mistakenly sent me a message meant for someone else that read, text me when you’re ready and I’ll head over. I’m upset, been driving for a week and I fall asleep. Waking up to missed calls and more texts about me not having room for him. At this point I don’t give a shit, so I unleashed. I’m exhausted with all this. So he calls frantically saying the universe is testing us. He says he loves me and he believes in us.

I’m not saying I’m a saint, but I was real with this dude. I truly loved him and cared. But how can I keep going like this? I can’t. The insults are burned into my heart. The push, pick and pull of him testing my strength instead of helping me get stronger, instead of helping himself… how could I possibly trust him with my heart now? And how could I let my kiddo see me suffer for someone who is downright mean to me?

I can’t. It breaks my heart. I wanted him for life. I wanted him mind, body and soul. I wanted to heal together. To love him good. But I’m broken now. I can’t spend any more energy on reassuring him I want him but I also want to be my own person. He wants me to be his everything, but I have to be a Mom first. I’m strong, but I will not allow and enable his fear to develop into anger so he can rage at my existence. Fk it hurts, but I can’t keep taking his abuse. He has to deal with his shadows on his own. I wanted to be there for him, but not at the expense of myself and my son. Hell no.

Idc if anyone reads this, I want to read it and look at myself. I want to improve from this.