There’s a drafted email in my folder spelling out all of the good things about Dan. Because panic attacks do a number on my memory, I wanted to make sure I remembered all the things. I wrote them down in an email draft dated August 2024. That’s how long (that I have documented anyway) I tried to wake him up to what was happening.
So to say that it irritates me when people think I’m jumping into a new relationship so soon, is quite the understatement. By the time I let people know what’s up, it’s way past the the time the trouble started. Also I tried to get him to leave several times, and he wouldn’t. That’s not on me.
I’m just going to let people think what they want. I simply don’t have enough fucks left to give. I get to be happy now.
The day before he left, Dan startled me and I fell, hitting my head on the barhroom tile and on the cabinets on my way down. He helped (I used the term loosely) me in his usual hasty manner, hitting my head on the cabinets again.
Really helping me would have been accepting my boundaries and staying away, caring enough not to send me into a panic in the first place. Like I asked of him more times than any wife should.
Anyone who thinks I have grieving left to do over this relationship, including myself, is expecting blood from turnips. I’ve been over this shit for a long time.
Another thing I want to get off my chest is that it irks me that he uses depression as an excuse for everything bad he ever did to me while my anxiety wasn’t real. I was just mean.
I learned a long time ago not to expect apologies, but it’s hard for me not to be pissed off when the non-apologies flow so freely.