Attempt #2?

Attempt #2?

I asked a girl out for a coffee.  She’s sweet and cute, and I’ve heard she and I have had some similar experiences relationship wise.  She said:

 “I would absolutely love to, but not for a few weeks.  I have a crazy couple weeks.”

“Ok, sure, no pressure.  Let me know if and when you’re ready.”

She seems genuine, but it could easily be one of those “I want to say no, but I don’t want to hurt your feelings” kind of answers. So I’ve left it in her court and minimized the amount that I interact with her dramatically.  She’s not really picked up the slack, which led me to leaning toward her feeling option 2.  

But then I come to find out from a mutual friend that she was incredibly enthusiastic about me asking her out.  Despite not actually setting a date.  And I’m excited knowing that she’s excited that I asked her out.  Despite not actually having a date set.

So we’re both super happy about an event that, at this rate, is not likely to happen because I’m not going to ask again and she doesn’t seem to want to nail it down.  And ... we’re content with that?

Yep.  We’re broken.

One of the things that he has of mine is a cream and sugar set my parents got as a wedding present.

I'm so angry about it right now I can't sleep.

My response to the event I described in my last post. After this event I sent him a whole bunch of ignored texts like" hey can I help you today?" And " i miss you" and loads of other humiliating stuff. It's not terribly interesting and there's plenty other humiliating things to come so we'll jump forward to his response two days later:

Is it any wonder?

TW - self harm

When he was in his early teens, he confessed to his parents that he had urges to hurt himself.  He wanted to take one of his hunting knives and plunge it into his gut.

I’m not a mother, so maybe I don’t know, but if my kid came up to me and told me he was having a hard time not gutting himself, I’m pretty sure we’d be dropping everything and going to the hospital to get some professional help.

They took away his hunting knives.  That’s it.

Moving Parts.

Our next home after the place in the county was the house we purchased.  It should have been an exciting time, but I dreaded everything about it. I pushed away all of the clear bad thoughts, but every part of me knew this was a horrible idea.

So I dragged my feet packing. This led to one of the worst moments of violence.

One of our last nights before moving out he lost it.  He was angry he was doing most of the packing. It was true; I tried to argue that a lot of what I had to pack we still needed (kitchen stuff, etc) and that I was furious when he started packing my things. I attempted to stand my ground.

My brain fogged this up pretty good.  I remember being dumbfounded by his rage and that this was actually happening to me.

He kicked my legs up from underneath me.  He threw me up against the wall.  He choked me.  He lifted me up off the ground by my neck and spitscreamed in my face. He threw me over boxes of our things causing damage we had to lie about later. He tackled me to the ground, smashed my head off of it and then kicked me multiple times as he got up. He punched me in the stomach.

He chased me into the kitchen and warned me to stay away from him because he couldn’t control himself.  

I don’t remember at all how this situation resolved, and I have no idea what lies I told myself to get into bed with him that night.