Epic blow job

I blew it. I also faked you out with the title of this post, but please keep reading. Not so much for your sake, but I could really use some feedback and other people’s insight on this.

I blew it. “What did you blow?”, you ask. “My relationship.”, I answer.

I’m going to try and tell this story with as little emotion as possible to try and keep it more factually based so I don’t accidentally sway you one way or the other.

Let me preface the story with a bit of background info and my own insight. A lot of this I knew, but pieces of it I realize now just after the last session I just had with my therapist, which also coincidentally happened yesterday, before the “epic blow job”. Along with this, let me also say that my boyfriend is a great man and has treated me very well since the beginning.

History: I am very very against pot. When I was a kid, my father made me smoke with him. It started with smoking and then escalated into other drugs and “behavior”. My father is my biggest trigger. Eventually I went to my mom and told her what was going on because I just couldn’t handle the secret anymore that he was making me keep. That resulted in my father leaving, my parents separating, and him literally and vocally blaming me for his failed marriage and life.

I guess to add to that, my previous ex, who treated me very badly all around, I later came to find out that while he had been in recovery and an “ex-addict”, was actually spending tons of our money on pot and was smoking behind my back. This was a big deal because A) it was behind my back and he was lying about it, B) we had very little money. There were times he would yell at me so bad and have me in tears because I “spent too much on groceries”, but he was spending it on weed behind my back. Between the two of us, we had three kids so this was really devastating and heartbreaking for me that I was so limited on money for food and no ability to ever do special things for the kids, but he was blowing the money on that.

So sort of a double whammy here with the pot thing.

Now to the current event: My boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend, smokes. I knew this. It was hard when I found out but I really tried to just push it aside. He said he didn’t do it often, and I had no proof otherwise, but he was open and honest and it didn’t seem to be a big deal to him. A little after he told me and I told him it may be a dealbreaker, I explained to him a bit of my history with my dad so he knew why it affected me so much. He was sympathetic and we moved on.

Yesterday, I hadn’t seen him for quite some time because both of us had been so busy lately. He stopped by my job so I could give him his ticket to my dance recital (he wanted to go). As soon as I got close to him, and then when I kissed him, I could smell that smell. That, “I just smoked a bit earlier” smell. It killed me. I just said, “You’ve been smoking. I have to go.” and I walked back into work. The rest of the day I was literally physically sick. I kept having to run to the bathroom and I couldn’t function.

He ignored it, and by that I mean that he didn’t mention anything about it and acted like everything was ok. Later I told him that I really wasn’t ok and that I needed to talk but I had to focus on my dance for rehearsal so we’d talk later. He said he knew I wasn’t ok but to focus. I asked if he even cared, he said yes, but go focus, so I did.

While at my rehearsal, I was sort of ok and sent him a kiss text and he sent some back and it was happy times.

When I got home and we started to talk because he told me to go ahead and tell him what was wrong…and here is where I will just give facts.

I said: Today I could tell you smoked and to be blunt I just really fucking hated it. That wasn’t a pun.

He said: I do smoke on occasion and always have although it is much ;ess than when I was younger. I have to admit I don’t think it is wrong and it should be legal. I don’t do it often and when I do I don’t smoke much. I’m sorry it does upset you. I have to admit it is not something I am willing to change. I don’t want to lose yo over it but I think it is unfair to ask me to stop.

I replied and told him that I hadn’t asked him to stop and that I really wasn’t intending on  trying to make him change who he is.

I then felt sick and told him I had to go. Then as I laid here in bed, I kept repeating his response in my head and I got so angry. “it is not something I am willing to change”. I kept seeing those words and I couldn’t take it anymore. I kept seeing him smoking and it made me so sick inside. Then I thought, wow…I really don’t want to be with someone of which smoking means so much to them, or I mean so little. I tried to make myself just lay here and not act on my feelings…but I couldn’t do it.

I texted him back and told him what I just said above. I told him I just couldn’t do it. Us. And that I honestly didn’t believe he did give a real shit.

He replied back and said “I do care!!!!! I don’t know what else I can say. If you need me, LMK. I love you. Kiss 😦 ”

I never replied. I wanted to keep yelling and telling him how hurt he’s making me feel, but I haven’t yet.

I’m not sure if I acted BPD-impulsively, or if that was valid and realistic. I’m not sure if that’s a reason to break up, or if it is valid and reasonable. I just don’t know. I’m trying to use mindfulness. I’m trying to use wise mind and tell myself that yes, this is a big issue for me. My issue, however, isn’t so much the actual weed, but my personal history and trauma that is linked to it. All of that, also, has nothing to do with my boyfriend, and he is just being himself. Maybe this is something that I need to work through? I know many people smoke. I can not like it, but do I need to break up with someone over it, especially if its a recreational thing and not a money-blowing addiction? I don’t know.

And that’s where I am. I have no idea if these were BPD symptoms. Or if they were realistic and normal. I have no idea if my behavior was called for, or if it was just another impulsive act of mine.

I’d appreciate feedback. PLEASE NOTE THAT I AM NOT ASKING YOU TO ARGUE YOUR “FOR OR AGAINST” POT. I’D RATHER NOT HAVE THAT DISCUSSION. THIS IS A HUGE TRIGGER FOR ME. I’D JUST LIKE SOME INSIGHT AND FEEDBACK ON THE FACTS…PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.

Thank you. Sorry this is so long. If you’ve made it here to the end, I appreciate it.

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Epic blow job

  1. *massive hugs* My thoughts are, first thing to do is one of those sheets where you do pros and cons of him, the relationship, whatever. See what comes up. Then, cross out the smoking pot bit, and look at it again. If, without pot, he’s a keeper, then have a think through it. On the plus side you knew before and were happy with him, so I think with patience you can get back to that… It’s just a matter of how. I have faith you will find a way if that’s what you decide you want to do… *hugs*

    Maybe the two of you can be in a relationship, and he can smoke weed… But… If he ‘honestly hides’ it from you, maybe that would be ok? What I mean by that, is you can keep your values in mind (disliking smoking pot, but not asking him to stop) and he can keep his values in mind (smoking pot occasionally, but ensuring it’s done at a time so you won’t detect the smell etc, as it’s triggering for you and he loves you so doesn’t wish to hurt you).

    I think that you reacted in a valid way, but it was impulsive as well. And it doesn’t have to be a final decision. *hugs* xx

  2. Oh my, Li’l Sister.
    “it is not something I am willing to change”
    “I’m not sure if I acted BPD-impulsively, or if that was valid and realistic.”
    Can’t talk one without the other. At least, I can’t.

    I’m going to be sixty-three in September.
    I don’t think I’ve changed that much since I was thirteen. Almost at all, when I think about it to any degree.
    Basic personality, check.
    Core values, check.
    Basic collection of attitudes, check.
    Basic outlook on life and people around me, check.
    Likes / dislikes, check.
    Blonde hair, all there, all mine … check. The pony tail kicked in about 1971.
    Emotions, triggers, buttons … check. Different world, different issues, different variations of the same old shit, South East Asia replaced by the Middle East. Gotta keep on my toes, so … check.

    I really don’t think anybody changes that much after the age of thirteen.
    John Lennon said that once, and the only reason I mention it is that I think it’s pretty fucking cool. Maybe I just want it to be, but he was an introverted young lad, I spent most of my youth on the outside looking in.
    I’m still that way, and listen to the last of his works he was able to bless us with. Almost like he knew that approaching forty, he was an older man than I am now.
    Nah.
    Nobody changes much once they’re set in their ways, and I do believe it’s sometime around thirteen.

    We spend the rest of our lives, hopefully, adapting.
    My saintly Uncle Ben and my blessed mother died when I was fourteen and sixteen respectively. My Dad when I was nineteen, just when I was really beginning to realize how special he truly was.
    I’ve used up almost all my available adjectives on those five years, so you’re gonna have to think of that one that fits you best. Even if it’s my story, it’s your response that stays with you.
    I’m the one that has to keep the story.
    So it was (your adjective), but I was the same kid at nineteen that I was at fourteen.
    I just had to learn to adapt rather than trying to deny who I had become. Different aspects of my heart, my mind, my soul had to do a little dance, a game of “Musical Neutrons”:
    at any given time, there were only two chairs available for all those little voices to sit in, each of them wanting to speak their (little canyon within the crevices of my) mind.
    Too fucking confusing, so it’s like the two most appropriate got together (usually the ones diametrically opposed to one another by nature or nurture) to sort things out equitably.
    Two of “those little voices” that each represent me accurately in their own special way.
    And being the ones which were aggressive enough to take a seat, they must have been the most passionately and personally rattled by things.
    Might have been two voices from the back of the pack that made it to the chairs the next time the game was played. Or only one new voice and the returning champion. The possible permutations are endless. Easily past seven figures.
    And it goes on and on and on.

    So here I am approaching sixty-three and I’m just presenting the same package in a different way. Might even be the same wrapping and ribbons.
    Just the delivery has approached what one would call “changed”.

    So …
    what was I talking about?
    Oh yeah: you BPD, him smoking pot.
    You have every single right to have your story shape and affect your life in whatever way it does, it has, and will continue to do so as long and as much as you let it.
    I quit smoking pot when our daughter was about nine months old, along with drinking, and our daughter Emmie is now approaching thirty-seven three days after I hit sixty-three (which I anticipate will hit back), and she has never tried pot or booze.
    Never had the urge.
    Straight Edge.
    Her brother Justin smoked some in his teens, not any more, and Emmie was repulsed.
    She was valid and realistic in her response to his actions listening to whatever voices who got the chairs had decided. It was her own experiences with … whatever it was in her life that made it valid.
    It was the thoughts and emotions those experiences brought with them that made it realistic for her. Her response was her reality and she responded to it the most reasonably she could.
    Her reality was her thoughts, her response was her feelings, and those she could not easily keep within her command.
    Her response needed to be one that would not thoroughly and irreparably upset either her or her brother’s reality.
    Justin, in turn, would have to do his share of adapting also.

    Back to me: it was well known to the best of my friends back home in Colorado back in those days that they didn’t come to my house even remotely buzzed on speed and I let them choose most of the music we listened to.
    We came to a mutual agreement: we adapted for each other.

    Your guy is shitfaced/wasted/mildly buzzed/starting to zone, he doesn’t bring it into your reality.
    You don’t overreact to his recreational use because your dad ain’t around to kick in the balls.
    If he starts spending more and more time/s (either length or occasions) keeping you beyond arm’s length
    or
    you start eyeballin’ his crotch in a less than loving way …
    then someone’s gonna have to change.

    I hope your love stands in the way of that ever coming to pass.

    It’s like my wife and me: each time that it seemed to be harder made the next time easier.

    The DBT takes time, dear.
    And it helps to have a loving soul to practice it on.

    Take care. Be well.
    The dog’s waking up, I’m going to sleep.

    Harris

    (P. S.
    I think I just wrote a post.
    Mind if I stick a link to this post of yours in there?
    Just so people could get an idea of what got me to thinking about it.
    Let me know.
    Thanks.)

  3. Aww hun that is a tough one. There are some things that we can never compromise on and I guess you need to think if that is one for you. I know I could not compromise on it and that was the reason I spilt up with my ex. He would not give it up and I could not stay with him knowing that he did weed (didn’t find out for a few months). Take time to stop and think what your beliefs and principles are when ir comes to drugs, no matter if it is ‘just’ weed as that can easilt lead to harder stuff. If you feel dead against it then you need to explain to him that it is something you just can’t compromise on.
    No idea if that helps but sending you hugs zz

  4. The one thing that sticks in my mind, is the fact it’s a trigger. My main trigger is something personal and at first, my partner and I used to disagree due to his lack of understanding. He knew it ‘set me off’, but he didn’t really understand what that meant. After a heated row and me spending a few days away from home, I returned and discussed the issue. Properly, this time. I let down my guard and told him about why it and how it was a trigger. Since then, things have been a lot better with us.

    Maybe you could compromise. I’m not saying he should be dishonest and sneaky, but he could just do it when he isn’t and won’t be around for you for that day. He doesn’t mention it and you don’t ask. I’m not sure how easy this would be for you or if it would be an option at all, but for me, ignorance is bliss.

    I hope you find the answer you are looking for – as a bpd sufferer I understand how hard it can be to establish whether you’ve made the right choice.

    Xx

What say you?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s