Paul

This post has been on hold for months, if not years. I am not sure why it has taken me so long to type the words I am about to write but know that they have been bellowing to be heard for many a moon.

I was baking a cake tonight. I noticed that the eggs that were once present were not. I asked him (after he sighed and said, “ugh, what now?)” if he remembered how many eggs were left when he made some. He said, very positively, that the kids could not have done it. I did not understand how 12+ eggs could have vanished.

This is just what he does. I must be crazy. These eggs never existed. Someone must have walked into our house and used them. Maybe I am not looking in the fridge hard enough. But under no circumstances did anyone do anything ‘wrong’ beside me.

gaslight
/ˈɡaslʌɪt/
verb
gerund or present participle: gaslighting
  1. manipulate (someone) by psychological means into doubting their own sanity.

 

I did not even know this was a thing until the nurse I was seeing used the term. I did not notice how often he did it until this summer. I mentioned in this post that Paul and I had an argument. What I did not add was what the argument was about.

He had developed a crush on one of the mothers at Bowie’s school. We will for privacy’s sake call her Linn. He began making playdates with Linn’s daughter and Bowie which at first was cute.

Until one day he offered to take her and her daughter off to a cabin in Røros. He never asked if I minded if he did this. When I said I did mind (I told him if he wanted to spend the weekend with this woman to feel free to but to leave Bowie out of it), he made plans to take him against my wishes.

When I found out about it, I was upset. He told me that I was insane, I was a retard and I should be admitted to a hospital. He went off on me for more than 15 minutes about how awful I was. Mind you, he did this in front of Bowie. We were both in tears.

When Paul apologised, it was only to keep the peace. He did not mean it in the slightest. He was livid that I would stop him from making his move on this woman. I did not know this at the time, but he had not told her his intentions yet and without Bowie, he had no way of getting her alone.

He was using my son to pick up a woman.

He told me that he hated me. Never had he spoke words that felt more truthful since I have met him.

This was in July. Nothing has been the same since. He has been systematically dismantling my authority in the house. He yells at me in front of the kids, he tries to undo all of my rules (I have been the only one making and keeping them for the past two decades. He has never cared about parenting until now). He finds something wrong with everything I say and do. Instead of talking about it like adults, perhaps pulling me aside and asking me why this is like this or why that is like that he makes a scene to show everyone how much power he has.

He called a house meeting to let the kids know that he was in charge of things now and everyone was to report to him. He would be checking chores and the like – he has not done one thing he said he was going to do so everything defaulted back to me but now I have less respect than I did before. The kids now a power play when they see one. They know he will let them do whatever they want and I stick to my guns.

Then there is the CONSTANT chipping away at my sanity. Telling me things are not happening the way I say they are. He will do things just to have leverage against me.

When I tried to talk to him about how bad this has gotten and was there something I could do to make things better he said he felt like I was attacking him.

I asked him what I could do to help.
And I was attacking him.

If I point out that he is gaslighting me as he is doing it, he just stares at me like I am actually demented. Or he will get angry and throw something else awful at me. He needs to point out how bad everything is for him, even as he is belittling me.

He is in therapy and I wonder how much good it is doing him. In the beginning, I was hopeful. I mean, there were some really tense moments, like when he gave me “I am sorry I raped you” flowers. I did not know exactly how to accept those. He had been methodically taking advantage of me while I was dosed up on sleeping pills for years. I got pregnant during one of these episodes. Flowers? What kind of therapist suggests this?

He cheated on me for 75% of our marriage and he found a way to make this my fault too. I believed it was until recently as well. The narrative was simple. I was just not assimilating into this culture well enough and it stressed him out so that is how he found relief (with other foreign women, I would like to point out). It has only been in the past months that I have understood that as my husband he should have taken care to help me. He isolated me on purpose. He hated that as soon as I moved here I made friends within weeks – he lived here for years and had no friends. He resented me and punished me. He was supposed to be my advocate instead he became my jailor.

I took the blame from his parents as well. Everything that goes wrong in their lives is my fault (seriously. One day his dad was chopping wood and something went wrong and he blamed me. To this day I have no idea how I have so much power to ruin someone’s wood chopping experience).

When I mentioned how sick I was of being his family’s scapegoat, he said he was tired of being mine.

I read him the definition of a scapegoat. He said, “Oh. That is not what I meant.”

I asked him what he meant then. He had no answer.

People think he is the nicest human.
He does the strangest things.

When he gets pulled over by the police he changes his persona to country bumpkin – like he does not have a fucking Ph.D. It took me some time to understand how manipulative he was and how often he did things like this to make other people look “bad”. He pretends to be foolish or less than he is but he can be vicious when he needs to be… and lately, he is venomous.

When he fell for Linn he said, “She is the first woman that I have ever met that I could not imagine hurting”.

I remember sitting there thinking, “What in the real fuck? What about the rest of us? What about me? I am mother of your children you goddamn monster.”
I seethed, saturated, radiated in loathing for him in the moments that followed.

He hunted black and brown girls because they could be abused. We were disposable. Petite, middle-aged Norwegian women now they are the prize – they always were. He could treat women of colour like trash because he was always waiting for his princess.

I realised who he was right then.

He was talking about dating trans people too because he was open to the experience but what I heard instead was, “I like to date marginalised people because it gives me power”.

This is why he goes after the women that he does (fat, mentally handicapped, and/or woc) because he knows we are on the bottom of that totem pole so he will be coveted.

I was asked if I thought he was a good person that just sometimes does bad things or a bad person that sometimes does good things. I am not sure how to answer that question. If I were to make a list of the things he has done for me, the good is spotty because behind every positive action is something shitty. It is hard to separate the emotional abuse.

Yes, he was good to come back around to help out after Will died but it also gave him control again. I was nearly free from him – if you recall, Will and I were planning on getting married. We wanted to move to Stavanger and get the heck out of TRD.

Alas,

When I mentioned that I was dating again, Paul seemed pretty alright with it. He was doing his own thing so he did not give me any grief… until it looked like things might get serious and then he got bitchy. I tuned him out and then it did not matter, because this turned into a full-blown situationship so

No need to make a fuss about something that has not evolved yet (maybe there are not enough candies yet? Maybe I need to make him my buddy and walk with him for a while? I bet he would be like 100 KM per damn candy though 😂).

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whatever else can kill you

I deleted WhatsApp at 6:12pm (see unread message below).

Something broke in me this week. Homeboy has been ill many times since he has been on that island and I have checked on him each time. I made sure he had a damn care package when he was depressed.

Anytime I am hurt, sick or unwell in anyway, he is no where to be found. Five days ago I had my thumb smashed in a door. I have not been able to use it. The last conversation we had he told me to put something cold on it. Not a peep since.

My life has been waiting for him to text me. The reassurance that he is there for me is not the way I want to live my life anymore. He could not bothered to say, “yes, I am a permanent part of your life”. So, I deleted that app that was weighing around my neck like an anchor.

I would like to point out that I am not walking away from him. He knows where I am. I just need more than this. If he can provide that, he knows where to find me. If not, well. I am used to being without him. 😿

I will put my studies back on the front burner and I will spend more time at the gym (I have a gym buddy!). Maybe someday soon the damn snow will back heck off and I can go back in the forest. This is not the worst time of the year to deal with this.

Caleb is gonna flip his lid but I am not spending another fucking minute being treated like I do not matter.

P.S. if I missed contacting you on how to text with me & you are long-distance I am sorry! Drop me a line on Instagram or Facebook messenger (yeah, I still have it). I sent a broadcast but I am not sure if it disappeared as soon as I deleted the app?

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roll charisma

I need to step back a moment and reflect on this. Too many people see this as a problem for it not to be. I am too close to it, I am prone to idealising situations & underestimating the damage they are causing. I feel that I am being undervalued, true. But when I am in the spotlight, I feel lovely. Sadly, those days are not enough for me to defend this vigorously enough anymore. Yes, the days or words are greater now than they were this time last year but come on now, we are in a MUCH different place than were last year.

I would like to mention, however, when he shut me off last year, he was vigorous in his conversations with others. He was always online. Now he is on, but just a bit. It is not like he is on for hours & hours like he was before (not that I have noticed. If I am talking to someone else, I might see him come on once, maybe twice all night). So, I know he is ignoring me, leaving me unread for days, which I loathe (“hey? I am busy/tired, talk later?” Fuck, why is that hard? You obviously have the ability to talk to someone else.) but it is not a full-scale Friday night party. He often contacts me on the weekend for a bit, talks to me until Tuesday & disappears for the rest of the week again for no real reason.

He knows I hate this and for no other reason, he should not be doing it.

I want out, guys. I know, I know, hang in there but what about me? I do and do for him but what does he do for me?

Nothing.

He does nothing for me. I play by his rules 100% of the time.

I want a sense of stability & normalcy back in my life… even if that means I will be alone.

GOD DAMN IT I AM ALONE EVERY FUCKING NIGHT ANYWAY.

I have never been more alone than I have been since I met Eirik. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

At least this way I would be alone because I chose it. Not because I was bound by loyalty.

Fuck, how do I get myself into these situations? Better than that, how do I get myself out of it?

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you wear me out

On WhatsApp I posted about the newest batch of violence on woc in the US. I was told about this bullshit that men here like to do to women over 35 and I lost it. I have heard of it happening I just did not know it was a “thing”. Guys in their late 20s/early 30s are saying that “prefer older women” and they pray on divorced African and Asian women in chat rooms. They bring them over here for awhile and then abandon them. Some of them they find here, women that have previously married Norwegian men.

They only act like this to woc, though. To Norwegian women they are kind and chivalrous. To us? They treat us like rubbish.

I had touched on this before but it was personal. It was whispered to me a few times that I was being treated like this because I was not white. I DID NOT KNOW THIS WAS A THING.

I was so angry when I heard about this early I felt like I was going to vomit. Now I feel like I am coming down with a cold or something. It took all of my energy. Zapped.

How can people be so horrible? Skin colour does not make a person more or less worthy of respect.

Or love.

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just put me in a box

It has been a week, I was left on a dating site and I found someone I started talking to on one of the other sites ONE OF THE LAST TIMES he paused our communication. He started asking me what I was looking for. Like I was one that got away before.

He used my name. Eirik NEVER says my name. He has never once typed it out and only said it that once when he was sleeping.

Oh fuckity fuck fuck NOT ANOTHER GEMINI.

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boost now

With things looking the way that they do, I took the invite to tinder. We made a new account and took a deep breath and activated it. I put my preferences in, turned my messages on & put on a podcast.

Girl.

Two damn hours on this site and my phone was lit up. I was on a video chat and we were dyiiiing. The tinder tone is chiming as I am typing this now. I matched with just a few people and they are chatty!

See, this old bat is not dead yet. 😸

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🤦🏽‍♀️

You should avoid or limit the use of alcohol while being treated with sertraline. Alcohol can increase the nervous system side effects of sertraline such as dizziness, drowsiness, and difficulty concentrating. Some people may also experience impairment in thinking and judgment. Talk to your doctor or pharmacist if you have any questions or concerns.

I had been taking a small dose of sertraline after my birthday to deal with the depression that snuck up on me. It was never meant to be a long-term situation.

No one mentioned that it did not mix with topiramate.

Combine that with the birth control and the alcohol I had the night before… it is amazing that I did not put myself in front of a train.

I did not say anything about the antidepressant because Eirik made some snarky comment about tablets not fixing everything. Yeah great, I am glad you have the ability to suss out your whole life with no help. I cannot leave my house except to run short errands because if I get sick, I might stay sick or I could die. I am so damn lonely and people are afraid to come and visit me because they do not want to get me sick. Right, of course, you are so superior to me because you have it altogether because you do not feel anything. All of your shit is bottled up in your wizard jars and I am a mess with my two or three feels so la-dee-da, I had a breakdown because I fell in love with someone that runs away every time he gets too close and might say out loud that he is happy too.

I react to antidepressants because I do not have a serotonin deficiency but I was desperate. It helped for a minute but wow did I fuck up. I mean, whatever, I do so many things well, I might as well screw up in a grandiose sort of way too right? The bottom line is this: when people cannot manage to communicate properly, I have to wear different masks around them. I am BAD at mask wearing. It is like lying but different. I am modifying who I am to suit their fakeassness. If they were just open, I could be myself and all would be great. Most people just let me run wild but Eirik is not one of those people. He wears a great big black box across his middle and its name is seven. Over the time I have known him, it has decreased in size, but he still wears it like an anchor. He hates it too, by the way. Some people wear them with pride. He is aware of it and he shifts around it like an ugly sweater someone knit him that he promised to wear because he loved the knitter. It is ill-fitting & makes him uncomfortable. But he wears it all the same. We talk about it and he does not know how to take it off.

So I wear a mask to accommodate that hideous thing.

I tried dancing around it, but it takes up so much space. It is physics. I had to match it.

As time went on, I got frustrated and tried to name that box something else: fear of commitment, him not being over his ex, me not being what he wanted, him wanting someone else, whatever – it stayed seven and my mask got heavier.

We got closer sometimes, sometimes I did not want to be with him at all. I dated others and did not talk to him for ages.

When I put the mask back on it would feel like second skin, like I never took it off, even if it had been months since I last wore it.

It always got heavy fast, though.

I would wait for him to say something to feed my heart, a compliment, any crumb to let me know that we were back “on”. Half a year went by before he did so.

In that amount of time, I turned down five people that wanted committed relationships. Nothing was wrong with any of them. They were just not him. Even if they looked a bit like him. Even if they were handpicked to talk to me about history (because now I have a problem). They did not get me like he did.

And they did not have me on a fucking line like he does.

I have no addictions, dear hearts. I tried like hell to pick up smoking, no other drugs stuck, alcohol I can take or leave (and with my family history, that is weird) but his ability to fill me with intelligent banter for hours and hours and then chat me up and flirt my knickers off, snuggle me up like a kitten and manage to do all of this months without degrading me

& then he disappears with no word for days, weeks, sometimes months

AND THEN REAPPEARS to do it all over again it is like the drugs I never got hooked on and he managed to wrap his soft pale arms around me and I got lost in those foresty eyes my god.

Add a hormone disruption like the one I had plus the alcohol and then I just wanted to die.

I cannot.

My autistic brain is already super-charged.

In or out please.

Stop playing with me. People are not toys.

/no grammar correction sorry if this is insane.

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valentines day 2222: quantum disco

I thought it would be an injustice if I did not make a post about Audun – I have hinted about him over the past few months but just in case he makes his way here, I did not want him to think that he was not a valuable player on my crazy team.
What position he plays, well… that I could not say. That is why mum has been the word. He knows, in some way or another, that I am ‘occupied’. Add in a pandemic and things have been weird – but that is how we like it? He is brash, talented, fun and wow can he run right past me in so many directions. I watched him drink an entire bottle of Jack and he could still make sentences. I had a bottle of wine and I fell on my ass.

He can party, I dance a bit on the other side of the room and then I need a nap. We have much in common but our speeds are on different settings. We still get on like a house on fire — that then burns down the neighbour’s house…. then the whole block… sadly, then the town.

Shit, the whole country is on fire.

Yeah, we are problematic like that. 😂

Is it something?
Not today. Today we are friends that come up with whack job ideas that will probably get us arrested.

Everyone needs more friends like this.

He is a good guy, though.
He is a great guy, really.

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i like my men like my coffee

The U.S. is full of white terrorism and from the newest detritus stemmed a conversation that I am not sure I am comfortable having so here we are:

A prominent family member of mine told me that my biggest flaw was my need to be loved by white people. She told me that they were never going to see me as “one of them”. I was still black enough to be beneath them. Even though I was “smarter than three of them combined”. I could collect all of the “fancy diplomas I wanted”, she said. I was never going to good enough for them. I was always going to amount to a domestic, maybe a short-term romp, an infatuation (because I was “awfully pretty”, she said) but never ever expect to be taken seriously by one of those white men. They will use you and discard you like “yesterdays newspaper”.

I rolled my eyes. I was not very old then and I thought her advice was from a different time.

Unfortunately, she has not been wrong. I have not been treated like my white girlfriends, not by far. Even when I do the research, after the fact, the way my exes treated the other women they have been with, they have treated them very different than they have treated me. Even if said ex-girlfriend was horrible to them.

They tend to treat me with a different level of (dis) respect. I am more likely to be cheated on, lied to, stolen from, ignored, given a different level of commitment and less likely to featured on their social media.

I only noticed this when it was pointed out now. Little things have been niggling at my some of my friends. “Why did he -“, “Why did he not -“, and these sort of things, and though I may have thought about it when it was happening, I pushed it aside and dealt with the present. The past is gone, right?

When picked at, you find patterns that are important if you need them to be. Are all white people bigoted?

I was told to watch out for Norwegian guys that only date foreign women. They do this because they know that Norwegian women expect to be treated with dignity and respect… and they cannot be bothered to give anyone that (oftentimes not even themselves). They are generally the typical man-child sorts and they look for women that already have low-self esteem and they come from poor countries so they are thrilled to be anywhere besides where they are. They have no life plan, no motivation to do much besides play video games and watch porn. The relationships they have had have crashed and burned because they cannot commit to anything (and they probably got into the relationship because she wanted to, not by his pursuit) so importing a foreign woman is excellent – minimal work for maximum output. You do not have to compliment or respect her all that much plus she will cook and clean for you. You do not need to love her, just like her enough to keep her engaged so you can fuck her every once and awhile. If you find one that is kind, she might even love you and treat you with respect.

Though that might get annoying and make you feel smothered, right?

I just finished this group chat and I have to tell you… I feel sick. You think you know people and that you trust them just to wonder what they are really up to and why they are so…

distant. Is it because they are slimy and awful? Perhaps. Have they always been that way but your eternal optimism sees them as loving but struggling?

How much does it matter? Communication is a two-way street, not a fucking Oujia Board (though it does make for good entertainment).

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