Facing my spattered walls

[Depression = 72% of members]

Good morning,

here I am, facing the spattered walls where he threw the glasses, bottles and candlesticks. It's a miracle that he didn't cause a fire in my home, I'm realising now. The smashed window in the back room has been mended temporarily. The broken flower pots on the terrace have been put aside. And the glass, all the glass, everywhere in the house, has been vacuumed, with the help of my friends. But little glittery pieces still keep appearing, in every corner.

Was it only last Wednesday night? It's Sunday morning now, and I am drained, emotionally. Exhausted. And so very, very sad. I know this must be the end. But I still love him so very, very much.

We had known each other around the age of 22. I was a silly student, and secretly in love with the handsome wild musician who happened to be my best friend. We spend the most amazing times together. But we never got romantically involved. Maybe 22 year old student-me was a lot wiser than the middle-aged professor-me who is now staring at her wine-stained walls... .

In the summer of 2016, we met up again. Via Facebook, of course. This time there was real romance, and it was amazing. I was truly ecstatic with happiness. We listened to music together, we talked the silly talks, and I felt I was retrieving that rock 'n roll part of myself that I had missed so dearly. He was as funny, wild and irresponsible as ever - and he totally adored me. This was meant to be. This was what I had been waiting for all my life, an emotional investment that I made decades ago, and now I was ready to take it up.

(Just fill it in: amazing times, cooking together, walks on beaches, great sex, unconditional love, mind blowing intimacy, etc)

Of course we drank wine. We were celebrating life and there were so many years to catch up. There were endless nights, talking and kissing and drinking. Lots of drinking.

At the first outburst of anger I was shocked - I had never witnessed that side of him. We put it behind us quickly. We hugged and kissed and I realised how much he had been hurt in the 25 years that lay in between. But now we were both in the right place. Now was the time to heal and live life to the fullest.

Sometimes I go to conferences, and last summer I took a short holiday with a female friend of mine. I noticed that every time I called him on the phone, he was drunk. He really missed me, he told me.

The outbursts came more often. The weirdest things could sparkle his anger. I also noticed how he was picking fights in all other parts of his life. He stopped working as a runner for the local music club, he was kicked out of his rockband, no longer welcome at the alternative hippy community where he owns a little trailer, his friends had left him, and he didn't want to communicate with his family anymore. He was with me, and that was enough. He needed me so much, as he told me every day.

Admittedly, his friend and brothers had warned me on several occasions. "He is no longer the guy you knew before." "He is good at destruction." "Remember: you will never win. Always choose for your own wellbeing."

But they didn't know how amazing we were together, how sweet, how lovely, how intimate. Oh, the intimacy. The hugging and kissing, the whispering, the sleeping with all our limbs intertwined. The fun we had. My god, I just love him so much... .

His brother also informed me that my lover's financial state was a mess. He didn't open up official envelopes, didn't pay for insurances, hardly managed to pay his monthly rent. I decided not to be too bothered but instead focus on love. He'd be better if I would provide structure and stability. We would manage together, I was sure of that. And we did pretty good, for a while. He stayed at my house most of the time, and we talked about getting married. Next summer.

However, after my last conference, three weeks ago, things suddenly went worse. He was drunk when I came home. There were outbursts of furious anger every couple of days. One night I woke up as he was trying to kick me out of my own bed. I was 'no fun' he said. The next day we quickly tried to forget about it again - as discussing it was not an option. I knew that any kind of guilt or blame would end up in him feeling even more angry. And we did aim for peace, right?

Wednesday, when I came home after work, the house smelled lovely. He had made a beef stew, candles were burning, and I felt safe again. And then during dinner, something sparkled his rage. It was the most violent outburst thus far. He was accusing me, demanding answers to the strangest questions, and throwing stuff around when I could not respond correctly. I suggested to spend the night apart, which only made things worst. In the end I called an Uber, and he left.

The next day he came back to fetch some of his belongings. Still in a rage. He broke the glass of the back room when I refused to let him into my apartment, yelling and screaming, and I remember being so very, very terrified.

Furious messages have been send to my phone since then, with horrible insults and offensive personal remarks. There was a ghastly phone call about money - that of course I had lend him, that of course he refuses to return. All love is gone, on his side. I am shattered.

Outside it just started to snow. First time this year. Winter has come.
Thank you for reading this.

Summer67

[Summer67]

Good morning,

here I am, facing the spattered walls where he threw the glasses, bottles and candlesticks. It's a miracle that he didn't cause a fire in my home, I'm realising now. The smashed window in the back room has been mended temporarily. The broken flower pots on the terrace have been put aside. And the glass, all the glass, everywhere in the house, has been vacuumed, with the help of my friends. But little glittery pieces still keep appearing, in every corner.

Was it only last Wednesday night? It's Sunday morning now, and I am drained, emotionally. Exhausted. And so very, very sad. I know this must be the end. But I still love him so very, very much.

We had known each other around the age of 22. I was a silly student, and secretly in love with the handsome wild musician who happened to be my best friend. We spend the most amazing times together. But we never got romantically involved. Maybe 22 year old student-me was a lot wiser than the middle-aged professor-me who is now staring at her wine-stained walls... .

In the summer of 2016, we met up again. Via Facebook, of course. This time there was real romance, and it was amazing. I was truly ecstatic with happiness. We listened to music together, we talked the silly talks, and I felt I was retrieving that rock 'n roll part of myself that I had missed so dearly. He was as funny, wild and irresponsible as ever - and he totally adored me. This was meant to be. This was what I had been waiting for all my life, an emotional investment that I made decades ago, and now I was ready to take it up.

(Just fill it in: amazing times, cooking together, walks on beaches, great sex, unconditional love, mind blowing intimacy, etc)

Of course we drank wine. We were celebrating life and there were so many years to catch up. There were endless nights, talking and kissing and drinking. Lots of drinking.

At the first outburst of anger I was shocked - I had never witnessed that side of him. We put it behind us quickly. We hugged and kissed and I realised how much he had been hurt in the 25 years that lay in between. But now we were both in the right place. Now was the time to heal and live life to the fullest.

Sometimes I go to conferences, and last summer I took a short holiday with a female friend of mine. I noticed that every time I called him on the phone, he was drunk. He really missed me, he told me.

The outbursts came more often. The weirdest things could sparkle his anger. I also noticed how he was picking fights in all other parts of his life. He stopped working as a runner for the local music club, he was kicked out of his rockband, no longer welcome at the alternative hippy community where he owns a little trailer, his friends had left him, and he didn't want to communicate with his family anymore. He was with me, and that was enough. He needed me so much, as he told me every day.

Admittedly, his friend and brothers had warned me on several occasions. "He is no longer the guy you knew before." "He is good at destruction." "Remember: you will never win. Always choose for your own wellbeing."

But they didn't know how amazing we were together, how sweet, how lovely, how intimate. Oh, the intimacy. The hugging and kissing, the whispering, the sleeping with all our limbs intertwined. The fun we had. My god, I just love him so much... .

His brother also informed me that my lover's financial state was a mess. He didn't open up official envelopes, didn't pay for insurances, hardly managed to pay his monthly rent. I decided not to be too bothered but instead focus on love. He'd be better if I would provide structure and stability. We would manage together, I was sure of that. And we did pretty good, for a while. He stayed at my house most of the time, and we talked about getting married. Next summer.

However, after my last conference, three weeks ago, things suddenly went worse. He was drunk when I came home. There were outbursts of furious anger every couple of days. One night I woke up as he was trying to kick me out of my own bed. I was 'no fun' he said. The next day we quickly tried to forget about it again - as discussing it was not an option. I knew that any kind of guilt or blame would end up in him feeling even more angry. And we did aim for peace, right?

Wednesday, when I came home after work, the house smelled lovely. He had made a beef stew, candles were burning, and I felt safe again. And then during dinner, something sparkled his rage. It was the most violent outburst thus far. He was accusing me, demanding answers to the strangest questions, and throwing stuff around when I could not respond correctly. I suggested to spend the night apart, which only made things worst. In the end I called an Uber, and he left.

The next day he came back to fetch some of his belongings. Still in a rage. He broke the glass of the back room when I refused to let him into my apartment, yelling and screaming, and I remember being so very, very terrified.

Furious messages have been send to my phone since then, with horrible insults and offensive personal remarks. There was a ghastly phone call about money - that of course I had lend him, that of course he refuses to return. All love is gone, on his side. I am shattered.

Outside it just started to snow. First time this year. Winter has come.
Thank you for reading this.

Summer67

[PLEASE - NO RUN MESSAGES]

PLEASE - NO RUN MESSAGES This is a high level discussion board for solving ongoing, day-to-day relationship conflicts. Members may appear frustrated but they are here for constructive solutions to problems. This is not a place for relationship "stay" or "leave" discussions. Please read the specific guidelines for this group.

[Lady Itone]

My ex trashed my house once. She came home drunk with a friend in the middle of the day as I was trying to leave for work. I got mad, she and I had a minor physical altercation. I got them off my property, then went to work. Well, my ex let herself back into my house through an unlocked window, and texted me that she was in my house, she was so sorry, she was making pizza. I told her get out, I was calling the police. When I came home, all my wine glasses were smashed, a hole had been punched in my wall. She took a thick glass vase and smashed it into my floor, damaging the tile. Pizza all over the floor and walls. My laptop in the middle of it all on the floor.  Still can't believe I took her back after that. I felt so violated, cleaning up that mess, all that shattered glass for weeks afterwards. She never did do the repairs or give me money to fix the wall and floor.   

[pearlsw]

Hi Summer67,



My partner knocked all the plastic containers off the kitchen counters and onto the kitchen floor. I still have a photo of it. I had never witnessed such a thing in all my life either. I am lucky that he has never done this specific thing again.

I remember I had read a giant stack of communication books and even did couple's counseling with a previous partner. I came into this relationship feeling "I was better at communicating" and my partner was "lousy" at it, but I've come to see I was making serious mistakes - accidentally saying that things were actually quite invalidating. It has been a long, hard road, but I still manage to enjoy some very nice times with my partner.  I would highly recommend you take a lot of time to read the resources here and readjust your thinking a bit. It could help you, if this is what you choose, to find some better ways to interact.

Take time, think carefully, you will know what is right for you. There is reason for hope - whether you stay or leave such a situation. There is hope!

wishing you peace, pearlsw.