Having an argument with a jealous paranoid schizophrenic is a bit like having an argument with an angry, hungry bear. I mean, you can try your hardest to fight back, making as much noise as you can and generally making yourself look as big and as scary as possible, but ultimately you know you are going to die. That bear is going to rip your head off, tear your limbs away from your body, and then devour you from the inside out.
My angry Bear is jealous again. I’ve been trying to refrain from moaning about my relationship too much this time around, mostly because he knows about the blog, but also because I know I shouldn’t moan about the little, silly, petty things anymore. What’s the point? I’m all about picking my battles in life these days, and some of them just aren’t worth it. So I let it wash over me. I let the little things slide. I don’t write about it because, for the most part, it’s not big enough or dramatic enough to write about. Plus, I feel I have a lot to be thankful for. I don’t think he’s a fuckboy, he doesn’t cheat on me, he doesn’t beat me up, and generally, he treats me pretty good. That’s when he’s in a good mood though. The bad moods … They’re something else.
I was on the couch tonight and he was flitting about the rest of the apartment. I’d been trying to figure out Snapchat for what feels like the millionth time and getting nowhere fast. I gave up, exited the app, and locked my phone at the same time that Bear entered the room behind me.
“Don’t bother hiding your phone on my account.”
Oh God, look what I did. I hate it when I make him jealous, because it’s always over something totally ridiculous. The guy has nothing to worry about. Like, literally nothing to worry about. I don’t leave the house. I certainly don’t socialise that much. When would I cheat on him? And with whom?! I work all the time. We’ve covered this. We think I might be a little depressed again, and we also think I’m throwing myself into work. That’s just what I do.
“Oh, I was just checking Snapchat.”
“But you don’t like Snapchat. You said you’d never get it.”
“I know, but everyone’s using these cute filters and I want them.”
I offered to show him. He said that he didn’t want to see what was in my phone, and then he didn’t talk to me for hours. Like, HOURS.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, you know what I get like when an idea is in my head. I’m angry and I’m just trying to calm down.”
More silence. More hours of me sat at one side of the table, tapping away, and him at the other, rocking his moody face, doodling away. I tried to make conversation and was met by one word answers. I tried to give him a kiss and he acted like I wasn’t even in the room. I offered to make him something to eat and a drink, and he just said no and carried on doing what he was doing, moody face still firmly in position. I can still remember the throbbing jawline.
It’s like I’m being punished for the cheating incident that happened in his head … that never happened in real life. I said that to him, which, of course, erupted in a huge fight. If nothing else, I’ve met my argumentative match with Bear. In fact, our fights are so one-sided most of the time, he might as well have them by himself. That’s how it feels. The honeymoon period is most definitely over. There are cracks. Not enough to rip us apart, but the cracks are there for sure.
He gets so angry. I’m finding it more and more difficult to talk to him. When I do have something to say, he bites my head off, we have a row, and then I need to wait a couple of hours for him to calm down before he then comes back to me and says he’s sorry. It’s the same pattern every time, and I know he’s trying to change it. I can see the good changes he’s made every day, but that dark, angry, paranoid schizophrenic side of him … well, I guess that won’t ever go away. Not entirely.
It’s a lot harder to deal with than I figured it might be. That’s probably why some of the bad stuff hasn’t made its way on to the blog. I didn’t want to admit that I was struggling a bit, but I really am. In all senses of the word. Sometimes it’s like he has me to help him deal with the bad shit, but I don’t have him. He doesn’t have my back, not really, because he’s too busy being angry in his own little world. I’m never allowed to be upset or angry, because whatever I say makes him upset or angry, and then we need to deal with that first. By the time he comes back to apologise, what I had to say in the first place is forgotten about. Or, it’s no longer important because he was even more of a dick in the fight and now we need to deal with that instead.
And then I said that thing:
“If you’re going to punish me and act like this when I haven’t cheated, I might as well just go and cheat. Either way, I’m getting punished. Stop it.”
I shouldn’t have said that. Of course I shouldn’t have said it, but I couldn’t seem to get him out of that bad mood. I couldn’t drag him out of the black storm, throbbing jawline and all. He was in it and he was riding it, right to the very end, and no amount of flirting, giggling, smiling and kissing him was going to change that. And, let’s go back to how all this started in the first place – I WASN’T EVEN MESSAGING ANYONE, LET ALONE A MAN! I was on Snapchat. I was trying to learn how to Snapchat. How the fuck did we end up like this? I’m in bed, blogging by myself, and he’s on the couch, sulking.
I’m starting to feel like I’m losing my voice a little here. If I don’t do something about it – if I don’t find my ‘power’ again – I’m going to drown. I’m finding myself NOT saying things to him, NOT bringing up things that have upset me, biting my tongue all the time, and that’s making it even worse. You know what happens then – it comes up in a later argument that isn’t even related. I end up reeling off this list of things he’s done that royally pisses me off, and he ends up feeling like he’s not good enough. Translation: wallows in self pity for a while.
I have been damn patient with this man over his jealous tendencies. I know I need to give him special allowances because of his condition, but I have done that. I am doing that. Tonight’s little episode was a fucking joke. I want to punch him square in the face sometimes. I wish he knew how much I loved him. I wouldn’t put up with this bullshit from anyone else, that’s for sure.
How do I make this guy see that there is literally no other guy on the planet? There is nothing and no one else I want, that I could ever want. When he’s not being a paranoid fucking lunatic, Bear is the closest thing I’m ever going to find to my actual soul mate, I think. He’s like the Bestie I actually want to fuck. He’s my best friend and my boyfriend, all rolled into one. This is all I’ve ever wanted from a man, so why won’t he believe that he’s enough?
I’m so mad at him right now. We had a shitty day, but we held it together really well, and then tonight happened and he lost his fucking shit again. I got eaten by the angry, hungry bear. It seems to happen a lot to me recently. I just don’t know how to ‘fight’ with this man. I don’t want to, but I can’t just be argued AT all the time.
How do I find my voice again?