I used to have a life. Friends. Fun. I felt freer to be me, though I;ve always masked. Presented parts of myself that I felt were the most palatable. Over time, I chipped away at pieces of myself that I felt were too much, that people just laughed at…until I found myself here not knowing who the fuck I am anymore. I’m so inhibited I don’t even feel free to let my silly, weird side out when all alone. I’m also lonely. It’s a special type of hell to feel alone while in a relationship. A relationship of over 20 years. I can’t even be my full self around them. I’m also touch-starved beyond all sanity. I no longer feel comfortable initiating any form of touch, though I will from time to time – though it’s a rare occasion when they initiate.
So, no friends I can call up. I’ve always struggled to maintain friendships. Part of it is my neurodiverse brain, part of it is being awkward, shy and introverted. Part of it is because I feel like I’m too much for people. Part of it is I’m shit at keeping in touch. So, no friends…a significant other that just feels like a good friend I happen to share a bed with, but we may as well be roommates. He seems happy enough and I don’t think he even recognizes I’m unhappy. I’m a decent actress I suppose. We don’t fight. We don’t discuss the lack of intimacy in the relationship. Our conversations are limited to work and the dog, by and large. I can’t even remember the last time we kissed. Fuck, I miss kissing. On the rare occasion we touch, it nearly breaks me because it’s not enough and I know it so rarely happens. Hell, we’ve only had sex once in the last 3 years or 4 years.
In the past, I’ve brought up my unhappiness with how things are between us. It gets better for a bit, but then we cycle right back to where we are today. I’m not sure I can bring it up again. This time around I’m so overwhelmed by unhappiness that it’s overloading me and anytime I go to try to speak on it, I go mute and can’t find the words. I’ve always had this problem when overwhelmed and needing to confront something. I struggle to find my voice. I’m such a weak person and I hate it.
I know I probably should leave this relationship. But, I stay. Some of my reasons for staying make me a terrible person. It’s easier to stay, financially. At least by staying, he’s a known quantity and I wouldn’t have to chance finding a roommate. Not that I want one. I’m fucking in my forties. It’s not that I hate him, I don’t – despite it all I still consider him a friend, though no longer a close one I suppose given how much I don’t say to him anymore. This is no longer a romantic relationship and it hasn’t been for a long time and I’m tired of trying. It takes two people to try, not just me.
I don’t understand how he can be satisfied with this. I don’t suspect cheating. I’m not even sure I’d care if he were and doesn’t that say it all. Apparently this is enough for him, but this is killing me. I cry, in secret, nearly every day. I’m struggling now to keep the tears at bay while I write this, because while I’m downstairs typing away, he’s upstairs watching videos online. I don’t want him to see the tears, because that will force the conversation I’m too scared to have. I’ve thought about going back into therapy, but unless I’m willing to change my situation, no amount of therapy will help me.
The Thoughts I've Never Said Outloud 