My Bloggy Wog

This was taken earlier, from outside the venue of my Gig. When this was taken I felt happy, peaceful, relaxed. 

Now I am verging on tears. 

I am rather pathetically holding a Pink Bagpuss Cuddly Toy very closely to my chest and just listened to ‘Evil Angel’ by ‘Breaking Benjamin’. I don’t usually listen to EMO Shit but this song reached out to me.  If you like, listen to it whilst you read (it’s posted above) - it might help you empathise with how pathetic I feel. 

I got home from my gig a few hours ago and once again, felt angry and irritable with my boyfriend. 

He had only drank 8 Pints of mixed Beer and was fiercely denying having any kind of problem with Alcohol. 

I mentioned before on ‘My Boyfriend Is A Disgusting Pig’ that he drinks to excess and tonight his 8 cans of beer proffered a mindset I hadn’t explained in my previous Blog. After 8 cans of beer, he is inanely paranoid, insecure, argumentative, lairey, sly and patronising and the best way I can react towards him is to repeatedly say: “We’ll talk about this in the morning, when you’re sober”. 

Him: “Why are you so rude to me? I was helping you carry your equipment in tonight and you were so rude to me… I could have gone to bed but I waited up for you.”

Her: “You were about to drop my keyboard music tray, you did it before and nearly broke it. I can’t afford another one. I yelled to stop you from walking anymore as it was hanging off you”. 

Him:“That’s not an excuse. You’re exaggerating.”

Her: “I hate that you’re drink so much and every night. It makes me so angry at you. And I hate that I always try to get on top of the house and you make everything messy straight away - piles of freshly folded clothes are a mess hours later… I know you think it’s silly but it actually upsets me! I’m trying to be tidier and it makes me think, “why bother”.. It’s disrespectful!”

“Well, you drink all that Diet Coke”…

“I’m phasing it out. I’m down to 3 glasses a day and all the rest is Water”.

“Well, I counteract my drinking with running. I do long runs regularly..”

“It doesn’t matter if you drink like you do!” 

He starts to roll a Cigarette in front of me. 

Her:“Please don’t roll that in front of me”.

Him:“Why not?”

“Because I only recently quit, you know that!! I was seriously addicted.. please roll it somewhere else.”

“You’re acting like it’s Heroin. It’s just a Cigarette. If you don’t want to smoke, don’t.”

“I was addicted to it for 8 years. ASSHOLE. After a 3 year break I started smoking again. For me, smoking is a SERIOUS addiction”. I grab the pouch of Tobacco and threaten to throw it away. He walks towards the front door…

Him: “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with smoking or drinking like I do. And I don’t care what you do either!”

“So you would be fine if I snorted Coke?”

“Yes”.

When he returns from his fag, I listen to him mouth-off at me for nearing two hours; telling me how rude I am all the time, how I hate to share my space with anyone, how pathetic I am for using YouTube for Weight Loss when there are people in the world who are starving and have Aids. 

“Tebooku lives in Africa. His mother has Aids, as does his Father. Tebooku is starving but Tebooku always smiles. He smiles more than the strange You Tuber with a Speech Impediment; who talks about eating too many Snickers and wonders why he doesn’t lose weight”… 

He goes on and on like this, all night. He makes me feel like a fool for Vlogging about something so menial as Weight Loss. I feel like a shallow bitch. 

Him:“Come on, let’s go online! Let’s talk to some random sad person who no doubt has a personality disorder. Let’s see if they can give us some advice that will change our lives for ever. Hang on…. why don’t I make a video? I can pretend I used to weight 20 Stones and lost the weight. I will be inspiration to people.”

I start to choke inside and the welling in my chest and around my heart starts to rise. I swallow the feeling and phase out. I tune in to the sounds emitting from the TV; the news reports of Gun Crime in London, again. 

In my head, I reach a point where it does not matter what he says; “I’m intelligent. I am so intelligent - more so than you - I can destroy you with a few words but I won’t…” 

I feel numb. I don’t give a SHIT. 

Him:“I’m a lot more intelligent than you are…”

Her:“No you’re not and you know it”.

“I am, I just hide it well.”

“It’s one thing being intelligent, but it’s another saying you’re more intelligent than someone. I KNOW I’m intelligent and I know you are but I have common sense, application of my intelligence, logic, motivation and drive and you know it. I am also a hell of a lot more emotionally intelligent than you are”.

“Why are you always so rude to me?”

“Why are you always so insecure and paranoid?”

Yesterday I was very unwell. I woke up in the morning covered in blood. My period came and it was so heavy I thought I had been accidentally pregnant and miscarried all over myself. I have PCOS and it is my first proper period in two years - not doubt triggered by my recent huge weight loss. When he returned from work, I was lying on the sofa underneath a blanket. He knew I was unwell as I had told him on the phone earlier. “You don’t look ill”, he had said, “you look guilty”. I started to cry then and just thinking about it makes me want to cry now. 

Him: “I wish you were truthful with me about why you don’t want to have sex….”

Her: “I am truthful with you. I’ve acknowledged there’s a problem, I’m seeking help, what else can I do?”

Him: “I’m insecure, I don’t know much about sex and haven’t had much. I need to know why you won’t fuck me”.

Her: “Look, everything we do is a choice. If you are so desperate for sex, fuck someone else. If you don’t want to, stop moaning at me. I’m trying to sort this out”.

Him: “I don’t believe you.  You’re hiding something….Your mum and sister told me you were a habitual liar”.

“What? When did they tell you this?”

“They told me recently… when they visited… they said you embellish the truth”…

“When did they say this? What was the context? Did they just come out with it?”

“I can’t remember… but you’re reacting strongly to it, there must be an element of truth there?”

“I’m reacting to them saying this to you! Yes, I used to LIE, I used to tell HUGE FUCKING LIES. I used to exaggerate so people thought I was cool and interesting. I used to make a complete ARSE out of myself, saying things when people knew it was bull shit. I felt immense guilt about this and it stopped 6 YEARS AGO! 6!!! I’m trying to move on from it. 

It upsets me that my mother still thinks these things. She still thinks I’m exaggerating even when I’m telling the truth. She thinks I’m the LOUD one and my sister is the quiet one. You know my sister! She won’t shut up!! The ONLY reason my mum thinks these things is because this is what I was like when I was close to her. When I started to change, my mothers perception of me refused to budge. I’m NOT close to my family anymore because of this as it drives me insane. They will NOT change their perception of me and when I’m around them, it feels like I’m the same person I was 6 years ago, when I’m not. I’ve changed. 

It makes me so angry that you believe them and use what they say as leverage against me. It’s BULL SHIT. I do not exaggerate or lie anymore. And I shouldn’t be made to feel this way by anyone”. 

Feelings of insecurity and worthlessness and GUILT. Guilt from the lies I’ve told. I was going to attempt to expunge my guilt by listing all my lies here, on this Blog. I am so ashamed. Some of the lies are too big to mention; you would be truly horrified. I am so ashamed.  I don’t think I can even write them out to myself. 

3 years ago I cycled to a Woodland with a list of my lies. I buried them in those woods and hoped it would lay the bad memories to rest. 

I truly forgot about them for a while but the residual feelings of guilt remain and I feel like a bad person again.