Archive for conflict

Truth out

Posted in codependence, resentment, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on November 1, 2016 by jilly9er

Something has been eating at me.

Literally, as I chew off pieces of my skin, and my stomach acid runs amok.

Fungus slowly corrodes my nail. I pick out eyebrow hairs by the dozen.

Something is clearly wrong. I am anxious. It is growing inside of me.

And now, finally, I am paying attention.

You will say it is my mom.

Cancer eats her, so they say, and she will die suddenly.

Maybe it will be several months or years from now. No one knows.

And I am certain that is a part of the mix. I am not in denial about my sadness and my fears. Fears about the sadness.

But there is more. And the more is the hardest part.

Because something has changed in me. And I have to live up to ME.

Even though the ME I AM is unfamiliar to me. It is truth, it needs to come out, but …

I didn’t expect it so soon, I guess. So suddenly.

I told myself it was all in my mind, all in conditions, in circumstances…

I told myself it would be over soon, that there was a light at the end of the tunnel –

Even though this thought did not give me any relief, as it normally would.

I love you to death. I always will. And I find you amazing. And I love seeing you and hanging out with you and working with you, in various capacities.

I think you’re wise and insightful and beautiful.

But I need a break.

I need some boundaries.

And boundaries are scary for me. So this is very scary for me.

Maybe it’s appropriate I’m writing this on Halloween.

You’re the very person who taught me about boundaries, and about self-care, and about telling the truth at all costs.

You’re the very person who mentored me to become the very ME I AM who is about to tell you something shocking, something disturbing. This will rock the boat. I don’t doubt that at all. If it doesn’t rock the boat, I have left something out, or I have watered it down.

The truth will hurt. You are not my best friend. I do not feel the same way about you…


I said it.

Only I haven’t said it to you, yet. I am working out how to express this to you. I can’t wait any longer. One more night is all. Tonight is the night.

Tomorrow is the day.

What does it mean, for us? You are my:

  • sponsor
  • financial advisor
  • boss
  • friend

You also seem to want to be my:

  • teacher – on all subjects
  • trainer – in all things
  • entertainer – which is often welcome but sometimes not
  • doctor – which I truly find fairly ridiculous
  • coach – which blends boundaries with sponsor, financial advisor, boss, and friend
  • …and therein lies the problem.

Is there any time you don’t offer, unsolicited, to me:

  • opinions?
  • experience?
  • suggestions?
  • feedback?
  • input?
  • ideas?
  • recommendations?
  • referrals?
  • lessons?
  • guidance?
  • approval?
  • encouragement?
  • persuasion?
  • advice?
  • help?
  • examples?

Can I just have some space?

I just need some space.

I need more space, for me.

Moving closer to work is what I am doing. Not moving closer to you.

I don’t want to spend more time with you.

If anything, I want to spend less time with you.

More sponsor time, more work on my steps, and less uncategorized time.

Less friend time? I think…

Less time where you hold me hostage with your storytelling.

You are a great storyteller, but I feel like I’ve now heard them all, and you are starting to

…repeat yourself.

And you don’t stop when I say that yes, you’ve told me this before.

Yes, I remember.

Yes, I already know.

You don’t stop.

You don’t stop.

I need you to stop.

Stop, please.

Before I need to leave, to get some space.

And then what happens?

In one fell swoop, I lose my:


  • sponsor
  • financial advisor
  • boss
  • friend


I find your personality, ,your energy overwhelming and overpowering, a lot of the time. I find your excitement about our friendship anxiety-producing. I find your involvement in every aspect of my life intrusive and exhausting. I just want to be left alone. It’s just too much.

I enjoy looking up my own information, researching stuff for myself on the internet, and making choices. I like learning on my own. You are a good teacher, but I would prefer it was limited more to accounting, bookkeeping, and the 12 steps. There are many, many things you know and are good at, but I need the space to find out things for myself, to do things for myself, to wonder about things, and just to be in silence sometimes.

I feel like you’re not giving me space to learn on my own. I know you mean well. You are terribly generous and have a big heart, of course I know this and appreciate this. You are an amazing person and I value you so very much – in every role you play in my life.

But therein lies the problem: The roles conflict with each other at times. If you were not my boss, I would have told you-my-sponsor about my issues with my boss long ago, and you would have helped me set a boundary. If you were not my sponsor, I would have told my sponsor about you-my-boss and my sponsor would have helped me set a boundary. If you were only my friend I probably wouldn’t see you so much and this might not be coming up. And if it did come up, I would discuss it with my sponsor.

I want to do the steps, desperately. But I find that I am averse to the thought of booking more time with you on my days off.

I need a break.

How are we to proceed?


I need to talk to you. Badly.

It will start like this example I just read on the beautiful internet, and made my own:

I realized I had a choice: I could confront you, risk hurting your feelings and making things awkward between us, and possibly save our multi-faceted relationship, which I ultimately care about and value, or I could say nothing, get more and more frustrated, and ultimately write you off as a boss or a sponsor, possibly losing many very important things about our relationship.


So here we are

Posted in marriage, poetry with tags , , , , , , on June 8, 2016 by jilly9er

So here we are, only you are not here.

It is just me, as you, and my father, as me.

And all over again I am experiencing your

Sideways comments and backlashery, as me,

As my mouth and brain take on your persona and direct it all again,

For the first time ever,

Towards my father, as me,

Who mumbles and mutters and whispers and tip-toes

Around me, as you.

And all over again, we are here, only

You are not here, so it is just me, knowing.

Knowing, and not being able to say a thing to you, as you,

Nor to stop the me that is now you.

Nothing can comfort my father, as me, because, as me,

I too was incapable of seeing what I was doing.

All the time I thought I was not doing, not doing.

So here we are, and I wish you were here, instead of him,

So that I could be me, as me now, and you could be you,

As however you want to be,

And I could accept you.

And I could finally accept me, too.

can’t stop won’t stop

Posted in anger, poetry, resentment with tags , , , , on April 15, 2016 by jilly9er

My fucking  mouth.

Your fucking inability to be curious, open minded, to even …

LISTEN, goddammit, LISTEN!

Can’t you hear what I’m trying to say?

What I’m trying to do?

I don’t care about your endless opinions,

Your need for alignment with the opinion of the other,

Your incessant striving for consensus

At all costs.

Why do I even try? Apparently I can’t stop won’t stop either.

Then I might as well be looking into a mirror.

Can’t stop.

That’s why I’m living under your roof in the first place.

So much freedom, so little hope of escape.

So much tension.

I will bust out of  here soon…



that psycho look i get

Posted in abuse, anger, marriage, rage, resentment with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 24, 2015 by jilly9er

I don’t know why it seems psychotic to feel the kind of rage I’m feeling tonight (and off and on this whole marriage and beyond). It’s human, or so I believe. But when I get that look in my eyes, it’s instant. She sees it, I feel it, and I know it’s 100% anger. I could kill in that moment, if the moment could be stretched into more moments…and there were no four-legged witnesses.

Now, I can barely kill a fly these days without weeping over the decision, so please take this with a grain of salt if you are a courtroom drama watcher like me. This will not become evidence. But it can’t go on.

I can’t go on this way. It’s going to kill me, or at least I’m going to hurt someone or break something extremely valuable and end up in prison. Or a locked psych ward.

I should’ve gone to that AA meeting tonight. Why do I continue to choose to stay home and spend time with her, when spending time with her can often make things worse? If it doesn’t make things worse, it certainly doesn’t make things better. It never can make things better. If it could, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.

If I had time and space to watch Netflix with her, I could’ve called my brand new sponsor. But I put it off, honestly, because I didn’t want to miss spending a precious few hours hanging out with her – even while knowing that would not help and would likely make me feel worse. And I somehow still believe or feel I need complete and utter privacy and silence to make a simple phone call. I feel I have no privacy and no freedom when she is around.

Is this the definition of codependency? Am I a sick puppy or what? Are these the effects of living with an abusive person for so long? Complete erosion of self-esteem and confidence and clarity? Am I left with confusion and self-doubt and fear, feeling trapped and crazy until… Until what? When? When will I bust out of this cage? When will I do what I know will help me?

I need to get out of here. I need to get out of this constant contact and living situation. And I need help to get out of this crazed head of mine, before it becomes my permanent cell.


Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on August 20, 2014 by jilly9er

I need her to walk the 8 dogs with me every morning. First thing in the morning.

It could be a good wake-up activity, a great meditation, good exercise of course…

It is sometimes. But sometimes – often, lately – it is like holding on to a teeter-totter.

Back and forth, up and down, the emotions oscillate and harden and explode and whip me in the face.

Like some kind of assault. I always feel attacked. My defense mechanisms rise up and get to work.

I argue, I point out similar “insights” about her behavior, as though that matters at all. As though that would make things better!?

It always makes things worse. But so does walking under a dark cloud of shame, in silence, while she goes on and on about how I hurt her. I know I did. I know I will know more about how I did. I know it will a long, slow, painful process of learning and accepting, and forgiving myself, and learning to trust myself. And loving again. One day.


But for now, I have the following choice: listen in silence, grit my teeth when necessary, search for understanding in my heart, never roll my eyes or tilt my head or smirk in any fashion, not make any noises or sounds that could be construed as talking back or muttering inappropriate comments in retort,remember to keep breathing deeply so as not to turn into a giant knot, and carry the weight of the shame and guilt…


Argue. Conflict – I’m no good with it. I never have been. I can’t STAND it! It makes me want to run away, to hide, to escape. To kill myself, even, if it gets bad enough.

I have spoken and thought of suicide more lately than I have in years.

I won’t do it. I love life. I love! I Am Love.

I KNOw this. But in moments of chaotic conflict, everything seems insane and scary and just too much. And I can come to the conclusion that all I do is hurt others, and I will never get any better, and I am not worth being alive.

This is my curse to be broken.