18th March, 2018
THIS is the first anniversary of the night that you
protested “how dare she text you on a weekend off!”
Then you dictated my “I don’t appreciate...” text response
to her.
Just two weeks later, on April 1st, you sent me an email ending our relationship after
almost two years.
Seven weeks later, on the 19th of May, you
finally abandoned me, without a word, when I was at the lowest point in my
life.
That’s how much I/our
relationship was worth.
I know these dates well. And these facts are
incontrovertible.
I am thankful
that you, at last, finally, spoke to me like
an adult in February and for your hand-holding and comfort.
I am sorry I was so
distraught and unable to express myself properly.
It was clear from that ‘conversation’ that you have absolutely
no comprehension of what I have been through as a result of your behaviour and
that you care even less. Either that - or you are in complete denial.
Thankfully, you abandoned the absurd “carrying-on”
allegation. At least to me. Writing had some impact then. I doubt though
whether you will have the self-awareness or humility to withdraw that ridiculous
allegation to the others you have shared it with.
So I was not being unfaithful with Jo, you now appear to
accept, it was something else. (Deliberately dishonest, deceitful and nasty that
you should have used that expression “carrying on” to me in December. Deliberately
hurtful. The blog got it right, obviously.)
“You didn’t want advice from all sorts of people,” you mind-readed
me as the justification for you not asking your organisation for advice on my
behalf. So you denied me any help
because you were in a huff with me for asking someone else too? Incredible.
What struck me later about our conversation, apart from your
studied lack of emotion, was your inability to take any responsibility for
anything. To accept no fault at all. To show no awareness.
“The intimacy was about you sharing everything about your
case with her,” was your explanation and justification.
I’m now clear that you ended our
relationship, after almost two years, because I sought advice about the battle
for my professional career, from a woman friend. That’s worth repeating: You ended our relationship, after almost two years, because I sought
advice about the battle for my professional career, from a woman friend.
You must, at 48, by now be accustomed to suddenly ending
relationships like this. And quickly
starting new ones, as you did with me. Because you demand constant, continual attention
and validation. My daughter observed this after just a few meetings with you.
I was struck in our ‘conversation’ by your immediate citing
of ‘shoegate’. We can only wonder why this was so prominent in your mind. (I
wasn’t happy, either, about you working for a private health company that posed
as being ethical. But I accepted it.)
And I was struck too by you saying: “You wanted the battle”.
Quite what either of these things, even if you were right
about them, had to do with our relationship break-up, only you know. But these
are bogus, belated, justifications. The same for the cellar incident. The same
for the Sheffield comment – btw yours were not ‘little insecurities’, they were
constant and continual.
My daughter’s comment about my health is irrelevant and
again, a belated justification. You
didn’t abandon me because you were concerned for my health and well-being, the
exact opposite.
“You had Jo, Kathryn and Rachel in London,” you said, in another
attempt at self-justification. More self-delusion. You really think you didn’t
matter? That’s your constant need for validation again, even when your partner
is in extremis.
You initially implied that I had been somehow ‘faking’ my
depression and anxiety, by mentioning our conversation that weekend a year ago.
It was all an act? At the end of March, I told you I had felt like driving the
car across the road, after my second doctor’s appointment. To which your
empathic response was only: “I thought as much.” Then there were two more doctor’s
notes, both of which diagnosed anxiety and depression, before you finally
abandoned me. I am sorry to demolish your attempt at dismissing my mental
health – doesn’t leave you with much of a get-out, does it?
You mentioned your father and sister’s depression. Only you
know why, with that apparent ‘knowledge’, you weren’t able to show me any compassion or understanding. Me,
me, me again.
The savage irony of course is
that, in the end, it was you who was unfaithful.
And I know now, that when we spoke, you were not completely
honest with me. And that you also lied to me.
You could speak to her, but
not to me. An astonishing betrayal
on its own. But there was more to it than that, wasn’t there? You couldn’t help
yourself, could you?
When you were having your face
done in a beauty salon and betraying me, out of spiteful revenge, I was fighting for my professional life, suffering hypo after hypo, and
suicidal.
When you were ranting and raving
at me on your doorstep in December, accusing me of “destroying” your life, I
wanted to kill myself. And again, you ran away from adult behaviour. Petulant childishness.
What does any of this tell you
about yourself? Anything?
When you finally decided to speak to me, you demonstrated a complete
lack of concern and disinterest about what had happened to me. “I don’t mean to be dismissive”, you repeated several times. But, of course, you were.
“The police told me not to be on my own that night,” you repeated several times, as though
this was some awful prospect. Me, me, me, again. Not once did you ask about me that night after I had taken an
overdose of insulin. “Well, you’re still here,” you said, smiling. How blasé
and dismissive. No sense of responsibility, again. Too busy complaining about
how you spent the night.
We both should have known when you abandoned me that first ever weekend, in the middle of a
hypo, when I was clearly unwell. “No-one’s ever treated me like that before,”
you said, being the centre of the
universe.
Nor had anyone ever abandoned
me like that before.
(I have to smile now about you searching for my pen in
February, when what I needed was not insulin, but any kind of sustenance. A
complete lack of any understanding, again.)
Dunelm Mill, Marsden, the Liverpool Conference, Jo having a
cup of tea, you shopping for the watch I bought – (the £600 one that I bought
for you just three months before and which you ungratefully complained was not
inscribed? You can post it back to me in another scruffy brown envelope, since
it’s only a terrible reminder of our worthless relationship. And I
could do with the money. The same goes for the Bartlett poster.)
Then the pre-Christmas running away (I can’t even remember
what that was about now, there were so many), then the deluded goodbye email,
and then the cowardly keys. What Irredeemably rotten treatment of anyone. An
absolute prima donna.
Then, the night you continually goaded me for attention when
I was exhausted and wanted to sleep, forcing me into the spare room. And then
the horror I felt, when you pursued me, pushing me again and again, almost to
breaking point. And all because you
wanted constant attention and to be validated. No thought for me. Shameful.
There’s a pattern of behaviour here.
As for the blog, your pre-occupation again was only with what I had written about you. Nothing about me. I was
struck too by your verdict that you had thought it showed I “was not well.” Yet
even though you knew that, you could not pick up the phone. You could have easily
re-assured me that you had not
betrayed me. We know one reason, at least, why you didn’t.
You knew in January/February that I had attempted suicide
more than once and still you did
nothing. Shamefully care-less. Weak, not strong.
But then, you could not pick up the phone throughout the
previous silent nine months. “It wasn’t that kind of relationship” you maintained.
A really lame, bizarre, attempt at some
kind of justification for your behaviour.
You had no capacity
for empathy, care or understanding, until finally, finally confronted
with the terrible consequences of your own behaviour.
Someone has to try and actually kill
themselves on your doorstep before you belatedly relent and try to behave
like an adult.
Proud of this?
Again, these facts are indisputable. And some conclusions
follow – I guess you will have stopped reading by now and have thrown this in
the bin.
But this is the truth. Our relationship was only ever all about you,
Princess. It was never a partnership. You never put me, my health or well-being
first. You appear incapable of
considering anyone but yourself and your own feelings. And you never cared for
me, by any objective definition.
When more of my attention was focussed on saving my
professional career and both my physical and mental health, you simply could
not accept that. Because it wasn’t about
YOU.
This behaviour does not show ‘a strong woman’ – another
self-delusion. It demonstrates someone who is brutally hard and cold, selfish,
cruel and callous, despite all the regular emotional spasms.
You told me: “no-one has ever spoken to me like that”. No,
because everyone - including your parents - have always allowed you to stamp
your feet like a child. And they were all frightened, as I was, of saying
anything which would provoke another hissy fit. They didn’t dare challenge you.
You can be satisfied with the lasting damage that you have
done to me; the awful shock, the three suicide attempts, the heartbreak,
suffering and unremitting pain you have caused through your lack of care,
jealousy and selfishness.
But have you never wondered why a middle-aged woman,
generally considered intelligent and attractive, has never married, never had children, never been in a successful long-term
relationship? None of them were good
enough for you? That in itself is revealing.
I know you were sadly jilted and I am sorry
that ever happened to you and that it made you see betrayal all around you,
fuelling your jealousy, suspicion and lack of trust.
You complained about Jack Leach to anyone
who would listen, for wanting to spend Christmas with his grandchild. “He’s supposed
to be with me!” Me, me, me. People
still talk about it. There were others, of course. But none of them lasted.
None of them married you. Why do you
think that is?
I’m just as bad? The difference is that I genuinely thought
you were different. And, despite it all, I would have married you.
You have been the biggest disappointment of my life, because
I expected/hoped for so much more from you. Whither those trumpeted Labour
values? I genuinely believed you were my soul mate. How poor a judgement I made.
You must know you already have an awful reputation as a “bunny boiler.” It’s a horrible expression, but why do you
think people say that? Anything to do with your own behaviour?
I should have heeded Gary Titley’s perceptive warning about
you, many, many years ago: “she’s a bit of a nutter. A real prima donna.” I
never dared tell you. It’s obvious why.
Your final dismissive comment: “Well, lots of things in life
could have been avoided,” was a shocking
verbal shrug of the shoulders, posing as something profound. Nothing to do with me. Not my problem. Not my
responsibility. I did nothing wrong. I’m fine - you’re the one who is: “not
well”.
·
Hard, not strong
·
Insanely jealous and vindictive
·
Selfish
·
Callous
·
Insensitive
·
Uncaring
·
Self-deluded
·
Failure to accept any responsibility
·
And your absolute certainty that you did nothing
wrong.
We’ve seen enough evidence of all these. Really contemptible behaviour.
Empathy? No, just me,
me, me.
The pity is that you will see absolutely
nothing wrong with anything that you have done or failed to do. Zero
self-awareness. And you will never change as a result.
I have wasted too much of my life on you because, remarkably, despite
it all, I loved you with all my heart.
This is simply a reminder of just some
of the terrible damage and harm you have done to me, but you will just shrug your shoulders. Being a prima
donna. Couldn’t care less. No remorse. No sense of any responsibility. No compassion,
care or understanding. No awareness. And you won’t even read this far. Running
away again.
Happy anniversary.
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