Wordsley, Stourbridge, England: 12 degrees, warmish, sunny and slightly overcast.
Today is Tuesday, and it feels like nuclear bomb day!
Basically, I’ve been under stress with my mother since I started going out with Julie, and yesterday’s conversation almost led to arguments; the atmosphere in the house is extremely tense. It started relatively mild, with some signs of narcissism, entitlement, and negativity, but now it has escalated to complete negativity and toxicity.
I watched a short video a little while ago where a man explained how harmful a negative and toxic person can be in your life. He showed how simple, small toxic actions can, if you are not aware of them, completely destroy your life or at least cause severe damage and long-term sequelae.
The morning was normal with exercise and a blog post, but the atmosphere at home was completely heavy. It was starting to affect me. I could feel myself becoming very anxious and negative.
I began to think there was no way out for me living in such a toxic environment, which is truly torturous—being careful what you say and do, and having to act according to that person’s conditions. Anything outside the constructed reality is seen as a personal attack, which is quite damaging and hurtful to a normal person.
By the middle to late afternoon, my nerves were fraying. Unfortunately, it was like a dam bursting, releasing tonnes and tonnes of water, flooding the local village and those below. That village and those villagers were Julie, my beautiful, little, perfect woman.
How stupid could I be?
It was triggered by my mother coming into my bedroom while I was talking to Julie yesterday. My mother pretended to go into my bedroom without telling or asking to hang a towel on the radiator, which was already properly hung. I continued talking to Julie as if everything was normal, then my mother started talking to me as if I wasn’t on the phone, basically to compete and disqualify whoever I was talking to, even though she knew I was talking to Julie.
It was as if I had to be made an example of and to know my place. Then came a few ironic, even sarcastic comments, as I hadn’t taken the bait—I wasn’t biting—although I felt very bad, awkward, and livid.
I made an excuse to Julie to hang up because she knew it was inconvenient for us to talk at that moment. I didn’t say anything to my mother, but it was obvious that she would now be watching for when I might be on the phone with Julie.
I was feeling bad—worse than ever—and all I could think about was not wanting my mother to be cruel to Julie.
That’s the main thing; I’m not worried about myself, but my mother can be rude and callous to others, as she has been with Jessica, Cibele, Nalva, and Yasmin, treating them extremely poorly every time she came to Brazil.
I cannot allow Julie to fall victim to my mother’s ignorance. And how am I going to prevent this from happening without falling ill myself? How am I supposed to live an everyday, whole life with someone I care about in these circumstances?
It seems almost impossible!
An hour after Julie and I were back on the phone, I was in a complete panic; I didn’t know what to do. Our conversation deteriorated further. Suddenly, the bouncing bomb had shattered the dam’s wall, and all that water of anxiety and its burden was rushing down the phone.
I told Julie that perhaps we should take some time apart—maybe she should find a boyfriend who has more; perhaps it’s impossible to work this out for us. I couldn’t hold back any longer—the anguish and torment of the past few weeks with my mother, since I started dating Julie, burst out and overwhelmed her with toxicity, negativity, and maybe self-pity that any normal woman would find more than enough.
After a great weekend, a sublime calmness was followed by a storm; it is as if for every good thing that happens, we have to pay, and I have to pay, and we as a couple have to pay!
I was drowning in my own stupidity, anguish, and helplessness, and this woman, who means the most to me at this moment, did not know why she deserved such treatment. Julie began to cry, which I hate myself for, but I also had to go and give a class. We hung up, and I was flooded with my own stupidity for the rest of the night.
No Julie! No good feelings! Just a sense of loss and shame!
In bed by 11:00 p.m.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.
Richard
