Writing, Meet Wall

I was reminded by Facebook today that, at this time last year, I was painstakingly "cleaning and organizing" my office in the house that A and I shared— a euphemism for preparing to leave and packing. I didn't even see it that way at the time, but even a few days later, it sunk in that that was what I was doing. 

Along with the above Christmas card from my sister, I found a pile of various birthday, Valentine's, anniversary and other cards from A. One in particular caught my eye for some reason, and I opened and read what she had written inside, a very flowery, romantic and affirming message. 

The above was the image on the card. The date was the Valentine's Day a year previous, so basically with 369 intervening days. 

I had the gall to confront her with her own flowery, "loving," romantic and flattering message and ask something like, "what has happened in only one year that this is no longer true?"

Now, we both know, this is a shitbird thing to do, tempting as it may be. Because we also know, deep down, that people never necessarily mean what they say or write. That it is possible to write the most florid purple love letter to someone while actually fucking someone else. I mean at that very moment. I'm not sure anyone has ever done this, but the point is: it is possible. It is possible for me to say anything at all. For example: the first person who is reading this and responds in the comments, I will send you a check for $5000. Obviously, I neither intend to do so nor do I "mean what I wrote," but by golly I can write it. 

So, to hold someone to what they write in a Valentine's card is unfair. Of course. And yet, on some level, it is a deeply disturbing and unsettling truth about our relationships with each other, that we are capable of the most avid and ardent declarations and the most backstabbing, lying, betraying and hateful behavior. On what then are we supposed to build trust? 

I am currently struggling with repeated bouts of severe paranoia regarding the behavior of others in general. Specifically, the loml, who attracts men readily and in particular, seems to be one of those people whose Facebook presence in particular attracts the same men, repeatedly. It's harmless, (probably?) I know with my mind, but when I see the same guy's name repeatedly showing up with likes, hearts, comments on every post, my skin starts to crawl. Then I sometimes spin out and imagine the loml is carrying on with this particular man. I was talking with one of these men who is a regular follower of the loml and he told me he is in a long distance relationship with an unavailable woman who is in the same profession as the loml and my stomach about fell on the floor. "I KNEW IT" said my wounded, paranoid, insecure self. Of course, he was talking about a different woman. 

Anyway, the paranoia is definitely rooted in this deep seated knowledge that we humans are capable of saying any damn thing at any time, and behaving very differently. 90% of the relationship with the loml is in words. In actuality, it would be possible for her to be doing any damn thing. The way the rug got pulled out from under me a year ago has left me with a weird, paranoid and traumatized part of myself where I fully expect every single goddamned human being is lying at all times. Obviously that's not a sane and sound way to live. 

Another weird aspect to my experience of the relationship with the loml is my sexual jealousy. I have not felt sexual jealousy since about 1983. Not an exaggeration. It burns in me pretty toxically sometimes regarding the loml. I had myself convinced for about 6 years that I was naturally polyamorous and that jealousy of my primary partner wouldn't be that big of an issue. Now, regarding the loml, the thought of her fucking someone else triggers horrifying levels of weird, primal ugliness in me. It doesn't help that she isn't naturally given to effusive reassurances until I flat out ask, and I am too proud to ask. Once I made a sarcastic comment about one of these guys who is always all over her FB timeline and all she said was "oooh, jelly?" haha. Uh. well. 

Anyway, yet another echo echo echo echo echo of last year's process. I wonder if I shouldn't try trauma therapy specifically, like the highly recommended EMDR. 

On the other hand. I guess evidence is mounting that EMDR is, like so much else human, a crock of shit.