The awful power of the human mind - Epilogue

I could write a million words but it would make no difference. 

Whatever I do, I can never make Sarah understand - or as Dylan sang on Idiot Wind: "You'll never know the hurt I suffered nor the pain."

I could even push https://anonbreakdown.blogspot.co.uk/ through her letter box and it would make no difference. As I did, when I went to kill myself on the moors with a massive insulin overdose.

She said she never read it. Didn't even want to read it. Had no curiosity, couldn't care less.

Her mind is already made up. And I mean that literally.

There is nothing I could do, nothing I could say, to change it.

Which brings me to the power of the human mind.

There we were, in the middle of a horrible shit-storm - diabetes out of control, employer trying to sack me, worsening depression and anxiety - and Sarah sees only betrayal in me spending an hour with a good friend, who happens to be an 'ex',

Her mind then built on that tiny platform, transforming that casual conversation into something huge - me 'carrying-on'.

Her mind then told her that in order for her actions to be understood by others, she had to portray it to them as me being 'unfaithful'. And therefore, as a self-styled 'strong woman' she could not tolerate such behaviour.

Then, finally, in a twisted kind of way, she had to get her revenge. Through betrayal.

And all of it was constructed inside her head.

The awful power of the human mind.

As Cervantes said: "tilting at windmills."

Someone asked me recently, "do you understand why she felt threatened"? Well, yes, I do. Now.

But at the time, I didn't, because I was so certain of my own feelings for her. So maybe I need to be more empathic, more thoughtful, and yes, more understanding of other human beings. And how their minds might work.

But  I do believe there is nothing I could have done about Sarah's feelings.

About the insecurity.

About the pathological jealousy.

About the lack of communication (Sure, I could have tried to contact her, as I had done in the past when she had a hissy fit over something completely imaginary, but it wouldn't have been any use. It was always going to come back, in some form or another. She had a history of it.)

About the idealised life she had imagined in her mind's eye - just the two of us, alone, living in the country, with our two dogs.

That is why she accused me of "destroyed her life." Destroyed her fantasy. Destroyed the rural idyll she had created in her mind.

No thought for my life, in her mind, incidentally.

I don't know if Sarah will ever see that fantasy become a reality with anyone.

Perhaps she may find someone who is prepared to give up everything, and everyone, for her. Somehow I doubt it - we all have baggage of one form or another. Which means that she is destined to live a life unfulfilled. Or that, at some point in the future, The Crash will come for her too.

As someone commented to me, remarkably charitably, "God help her when she reaches the menopause." Or when her father dies. Or when the next man suddenly has other demands on his time, his health, or attention. "Events, dear boy, events."

I do fear for her then.

Of course, the exterior will give no clue. It will be the same "giggly person" - attractive, intelligent, vital. The "strong woman".

But underneath....? How awful a prospect. And how sad that she will have no children of her own to provide understanding, support and, yes, unconditional love.

Which is something I am truly grateful for.

And what of me?

You may well say: "he's one to talk, he tried to kill himself just because a relationship went wrong. He's the mad one."

Fair point.

It wasn't any old relationship, of course. Been there. Done that.

I thought it was something else. My mind, playing tricks on me, perhaps?

Certainly, my own mind has gone off the rails several times throughout this terrible saga.

But I have attempted through this blog to explain something about how, and why, my mind was working (or not working) the way that it did. And the feelings that The Break-Up inevitably unleashed.

The Great Betrayal still hurts like hell and Sarah will, no doubt, take some satisfaction in that. Revenge, best served cold, and all that.

But how icy and calculating. Horrible. I will probably never know the extent, or the detail, of that treachery (unless, she is a witness for the prosecution at a future industrial tribunal - I'd like to witness that.)

You may also ask: "But if you don't know the detail, how do you know there was a betrayal?"

Pay attention. Rewind to the doorstep encounter. The white face. The hysterics. And the verbal onslaught.

Her mind had already constructed her response, her justification, her excuse and was just waiting for the opportunity to unleash it on me. Makes a kind of sense. In Sarah's mind at least.

But, oh, how she must have struggled with building this imaginary edifice, inside her head, through all those many months.

Awful, really. And, yes, self-delusional. But we have already seen some of that.

And the selfishness. And the spite. And the sheer nastiness, of it all. God, she must have been hurting so bad...

One of the terrible tragedies of all this, however, is that Sarah will never reflect, never hesitate, never understand. Because to her, that would be to show weakness. And, as "a strong woman", she could never do that.

So there is nothing to be done.

For me, it has all been a journey of discovery. Of myself and Sarah, my ex-partner. Of other people - my children. My few friends. My sister. The good things, which I can hold onto.

I have also discovered the awful reality of services for people who are mentally ill. The bureaucracy, the insensitivity, the stupidity, the care-less-ness. I have become quite the expert. Maybe I can put that to some good use, in the future.

And I have come to this, final, terrible conclusion: I now have to give up any hope on Sarah as a human being, although everything about me hates to give up hope on anyone.

It goes to the core of my being, to have no hope for someone. No hope that she will ever understand. No hope that she will ever know. No hope that, somewhere along the way, she may think differently and, perhaps, behave differently.

And that's why, though it causes me so much pain and sadness, I must now abandon her.