My Stepfather was a Murderer

My stepfather was a murderer.  It all came together for me today while I was out running.

I've been in therapy for over three decades, working on incredible abuse issues.  I wanted to live and to become intimate in my relationship with myself.  I want a rich relationship with my husband.  Layers of sleep have been shaken off my consciousness while in my analyst's office through copious tears.  I have hated my analyst countless times and I have hated going more than I can say.  Tomorrow I have an appointment.

I am not sure how I awoke from my latest fugue state, it may have started with last night's dream.  I was with a man, a murderer and he had a fantasy of me being his lover.  I knew if I did not play along he would kill me.  I was looking for an escape route and ended up being in a hospital parking lot.  My spirit split from my body, went inside the hospital and told a doctor what was happening.  The doctor came out, looked under the car hood at the mechanics of the engine.  That was the end of the dream.  My analyst will not be surprised at my most recent wakening.

We often saw my life with my stepfather as similar to a concentration camp.  The terror and the suppression were similar, as well as the constant threat of death.  I just didn't put it all together until now.  Until finally, I clearly see the patterns of addiction in myself and in my husband.

I can't spell it all out now, but let's suffice it to say, that my husband's drug of choice became another relationship instead of alcohol.

I realized it yesterday.  I was talking to my business partner about my husband's realization about his relationship with an "old friend."  We had had a bad day on Sunday, it started with waking up to two dead rats in the pond.  I knew it was going to be a bad day.  For days, perhaps months, I had been feeling overwhelmed.  My husband had been at the computer and I was trying to take care of everything in the house and at work on my own.  I didn't make it clear I needed help, but hinted that doing a load of laundry really helps me.  Then the shit hit the fan, everything became clear that Sunday through a series of disastrous mishaps.  The overwhelming energy had built into a physical mirror which we both could experience.  He became mean and rejecting to me and began to tell me to get away from him while he was on the computer.  At the end of the night, needing to take care of me, I said good night and went upstairs.  He connected with his "old friend,"  his first love.

That same night, he came upstairs and told me he had a message from one of our friends on the computer.  I knew immediately he had been messaging his old friend.  I became very upset, demanded his password and looked at his message.  There were the words, the intimate words to his "old friend"  telling her how inconsolable he was, how sweet and wonderful she was, how she was on his mind and how he wanted to message her more.  I went crazy.

I woke him up, told him how angry I was about the intimacy of his words and took off my wedding ring.    I felt betrayed because we had spoken about passion and how passion was not to be part of his relationship with his "old friend."

I had been working on myself for months since he began his relationship with his old friend.  I started to "eat" my various projections and was learning to sit with trauma, the trauma of huge fear that I could lose my relationship.  In doing this, I began to understood Sartre's Being in Nothingness.  I experienced the huge pain of the wound of ego death, began to see I had a sense of being, then well being and then happiness.  I was astounded.  I could be happy with me.

One day, I had to check an old email account for some reason and saw messages from the "old friend" in the account.  Out of curiosity, I read them and realized there was nothing there, no threat.  I was surprised at my reaction.  I knew my husband cared little about the relationship, he told me he was messaging her much less and "it was not like it used to be."

Then the "bad day."  The bad day had occurred after he had been despondent and detached for days.
He told me he wasn't angry when he messaged her.  It occurred to me a few days later after he had told me he wasn't angry, that how he was feeling was in pain.  He wanted a personal connection.

More to come, a brutally honest look at myself, my addiction and what's happening now.