All My Fault - Tumblr Posts

He blames me for his broken heart and life of hardship. He blames me for everything.

I have learned to shoulder all of his disappointments, all of the hurt, all of the blame. They are the only things of ours that are still mine

Experienced.

He wanted more experiences.  He felt that I had cheated him out of a good life.

His experiences were based on decisions he’d made: he bought a motorcycle instead of travelling.  He played paintball every weekend in the summer instead of trying different things.  He insisted we needed to “stay home and clean this shithole up” (of course meaning I had to clean the house - which I generally kept quite orderly, in spite of him) if he ever did have a weekend off paintball instead of taking day trips. He was excessively conservative financially when it came to leisure activities with me.  If he wasn’t spending money on his bike or paintball, then he argued that we ought to be doing something for the house.

So things got dull, but he made it impossible for me to improve upon these circumstances.  He’d isolated me from my friends, and then complained that I never invited anyone over.  He told me I didn’t love him because I never bought him things or planned outings for us, but also insisted I should not be spending any money as I made so little and didn’t have the choice to be spontaneous.  He’d be furious that I never surprised him, but reminded me all the time that he hated surprises (unless they were really really good).  I never let us go anywhere because the house was always “filthy” and we couldn’t leave it in that state, athough he never had a problem leaving it to me.

I was the cause of him never getting to have any fun. If you count out all the paintball, going to the gun range, the strip clubs and bars he went to with his buddies*, zipping around on his motorcycle, and overdosing on video games while I cooked/cleaned/laundered/fixed drinks.

So after we had broken up, he looked to me to give him all the joys life had to offer that he never got to have.  It was one of the requirements on My List.  It was only fair as I was the architect of his misery.

I delivered on these experiences at great personal cost, financially and otherwise.

*Another story

Missed Experience

This last July I planned a trip for us to go up north to a popular camping/water sport destination.  He wanted an experience without me, so I had the perfect idea:  he always wanted to go scuba diving, and the idea sort of terrifies me – so perfect!  

I had everything planned:  The non refundable deposit was down for the scuba, the cute beachside hotel was booked. I’d picked out the restaurants, hikes, and other things we were going to do.  The weather was going to be beautiful.  Despite my anxiety owing to the fact that nothing was ever good enough, I felt that I had outdone myself with the planning.  It was going to be perfect.

However, the Tuesday before the weekend he wanted to grease the chain on his motorcycle.  I always helped him with it, even though he told me I was the most useless person for the job – he only chose me because he didn’t have anyone else.  What he had me doing wasn’t hard per say, but it was essentially two things at once.  It didn’t go as perfectly as he’d hoped and he lost his temper.

He screamed at me calling me a useless cunt and kicked a wooden stool.  In doing so, he fractured his toe.  Later he told me that it was a selfless act because he really wanted to kick me.  He broke his toe in lieu of my ribs.

He insisted that I cancel the trip I had spent weeks getting together due to his injury. I lost the deposit I made on the scuba diving and one night of the hotel.  I didn’t even bother mentioning it.

He blamed me and my incompetence for, once again, robbing him of an enjoyable weekend.

So not only did he calculate an acceptable amount of violence, I was reprimanded for my skin not adhering to these standards.

Blamed for my bruises

Every time he left a mark he became distraught. I would have to invest so much energy into consoling him - telling him it would be alright, I’d wear a turtleneck. No one would know.

He told me that he made calculated decisions about how hard to throw, squeeze, or hit and I was just too fragile.

Marks just showed up on my skin far too easy.