Reclaiming my identity

Instead of feeling humiliated so often, I'm going to title my entries: "Reclaiming my identity".
It sure beats a title like: "Humiliating memories Part I, II, III" don't you think?  So even after I feel a multitude of emotions, I will remind myself that admitting these memories can be a way for me to reclaim my history and my identity. So, here goes.

Memory 1
I drove by B.'s old apartment the other day and was triggered by a memory of us having a BBQ early in the summer, about a month or two before we broke up.  It was a double-date BBQ with his colleague and his colleague's wife.  We had a picnic set up on the grass and were sitting cross-legged on the blanket. I can't remember the details, but either B. or I asked the couple about their story: how they met, how they knew they were made for each other, all that romantic jazz.  The story was cute and funny but I was not able to give them my full attention.  Throughout their story-telling, I kept wondering what we would say when they me and B. about our relationship. I assumed, according to social convention, that they would ask! I thought they'd want to know how we met, what we made us like each other, etc. etc.  I was quite curious to hear what B. would say. I was also preparing myself to say good things about him from when we first met and when I had been swept off my feet.

But they never asked us about our relationship.  It was pretty awkward that they didn't, actually. So it felt quite hurtful.  I assume B. must have talked to his friend about us. He probably told them I am NOT the girl of his dreams and that he does not foresee a long-distance relationship with me.  I envision he made it clear to them that our relationship was not important enough to ask and that I'm not particularly special in his life. After 2 years of dating, you'd think that.  But I just had this feeling that he probably has made it blatantly clear that I'm no one special.

That night, B. and I got in a fight.  I don't remember the content of the fight, but I will never forget what he said.  He referred to his friend's story of how he met his wife and used it to highlight how pitiful he is not to have that with me.  His friend had said that that no matter how stressful work is, how mean his advisors are, or how badly his day is going, seeing his wife at the end of the day makes it all OK. I remember tearing up when he said this because I believe that! I always envisioned relationships to be this way and and I have strived to be like that counterpart for B.

Anyways, when B. and I were fighting, he brought up this point and gave me a woe-is-me story that he doesn't have what his friend has.  He said almost-verbatim: "The whole time I was listening him talk about their relationship and how he feels about his wife, I thought about us and how I don't feel that way about you.  I want that so much, and its sad I don't have that."

I'm pretty sure my heart shattered to pieces when I heard that.

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When I think back to this conversation with him, I want to literally crawl into a hole and close my eyes forever.  I can't imagine looking in a mirror to see my face because I hate myself for letting him say that to me. I hate myself for being with someone who pities himself and is hurting me simultaneously. He hasn't seen any of the efforts I made to be the best girlfriend ever.  He doesn't care that I have given up so much for him, that I am at his beck-and-call, that I do basically everything for him.  That conversation was brutal.  It was like he carved out my heart with a sharp piece of broken glass.  What kind of boyfriend says that to his girlfriend? That I don't make him happy, that seeing me doesn't bring him contentment? That his life is sad because he met a girl that just doesn't do it for him.

I'm livid with myself for not walking out of that conversation and saying goodbye to him forever at that exact point in time.  I remember thinking that way.  I remember the anger and humiliation at the time, and that anger and humiliation is very pervasive even now.  These feelings are what randomly charge into my life, in the middle of driving down the street, taking a walk, or right before bed.  I hate myself because I couldn't leave him. What happened is that I died a little more on the inside.  During his monologue, I'm sure I cried and I'm sure that he didn't understand why I cried.  Because his impression was that he is the victim because he's not with the woman of his dreams.  So what am I? Something to pass the time?  Looking back, I wish I could have done something crazily dramatic and left.  I envision it would have been violent too, but that really isn't me.  It just hurt so bad, it was so humiliating, and I hate myself for letting him talk to me like that.

Unfortunately, such a conversation is not the first (or last) conversation in which he humiliated me and made me feel like a temporary and deficient object used to pass the time.  It's one of many and it has been popping into my head left and right these days.  It makes me hate him, it makes me hate me, it makes me feel so embarrassed that I want to disappear into a hole forever.