This is not a post I want to write.
Honestly, it’s giving someone who hurt me what they wanted. No doubt, they will likely hit me up via some form of communication and harangue me about what a petty, pathetic, and horrible loser I am. They’ll claim I’m “sucking the pity tit” or some such thing.
But I need to get the words out.
Growing up, my mom abused me. Not physically, but mentally, emotionally. It got worse and worse as I got older and she lost others who she could take her rage on. I don’t know if her problems got worse with time, or they stayed the same but the targets got fewer so the damage escalated.
Sometimes I wonder if that didn’t influence the kind of woman I get involved with.
I’ve talked a lot about the kami no kitsune, the one who broke his word and took my former girlfriend. It’s a similar story to the time the Runt came into my home and took her, driving me out, but there were some differences. Less mind control, more betrayal. More pain, if that’s possible, because this time there wasn’t the excuse of “that’s not her, that’s the mind control talking.”
I’ve never claimed to be a nice person. I’ve never claimed to be a good person. Hel knows, I’ve claimed to be flat out evil often enough. But I try to live where I don’t take things from people against their will. Like Lucifer himself, I may have you in a devil’s contract, but like the devil I make sure it’s the contract you want. You might hate it, find that everything you wanted isn’t anything like what you actually want, but I never lie about what you get.
Part of the reason my ex hates me is because we had a Deal.
It was a deal she wanted. She was trying to get away from the Runt, full of hate with him and so very sad about what she had lost with me. She wanted it back, wanted more than what we’d had before. She wanted to be my submissive (in a BDSM sense). Despite my reservations…I loved her more than life itself. I consulted Freya, and Hel, and Skadi, and they said that I could do it, but Freya recommended I make a signed contract, something I could have to show in case trouble got started, to show that I wasn’t forcing anything, but that she had agreed.
So I followed the council of Freya, and took back my beloved. I showed mercy, and kindness, and gave more help to her than I reasonably should have. I asked for nothing that she did not offer, demanded nothing, indeed I didn’t even ask for things that I really needed help with. The only times I asked her for help with stuff was generally when it was something that she needed and couldn’t live without.
I was the Devil, and I made my deal.
But like everyone who makes a deal with the devil, eventually they come to hate the devil and want out of the deal. They resent the devil for asking even the smallest price for his gifts. And so the devil becomes, well, the devil who abuses the righteous.
As hatred built, so did the venom. Already weakened, the stress and burden of helping her took its tole on me, as well as piling up from the damage taken from her vitriol back when the Runt was the “love of her life and I was a pathetic child.” I had battled him for nearly six months, working spells and prayers even as migraines laid me flat in my bed and cost me my job and nearly my home. Resolutely did I fight his evil, not even desiring her to come back, but merely because she should not be enslaved by his forced mental domination.
In the end, I suppose, I was pretty pathetic. I could barely work a part time job. I drowned myself in chaotic video games to shut out the suicidal thoughts in my head. My every waking moment was as if I was staring at the vein in my arm and wondering “will it stop hurting if I just make a little cut? Can I finally go home to Hel and be with someone who honestly loves me?”
She screamed at me when I kissed her, trying to be romantic. Everything I did was never good enough. I wasn’t making the most of her help, not pursuing leads for trade schools or trying to find something better than one or two part time jobs. I was pathetic, I wasn’t making a name for myself in the aether, fighting monsters and being honored by gods. It didn’t matter that I didn’t see the point in trying for higher education or better paying jobs when I wasn’t sure about living to the next day. It didn’t matter that Hel had me doing things other than fighting monsters or making a great name of myself. It didn’t matter that I was respected by Gods and Devils, that I had battled something that even her beloved kitsune had run away from, leaving me to die fighting the battle he started, a battle that cost me one of my oldest and closest part/souls. My deeds, my help had not mattered, because I had not met her expectations of what I should be and because I had made a Deal with her that she wanted…but blamed the devil for living with.
That Deal part of the reason the kami no kistune came after me. He felt that his ideas of sexual relationships was superior to mine, that he should have the woman he loved, and have her alone, despite his oaths not to do so, not to take she who meant the world to me. Freya he convinced I was unworthy, though my ex claims she got involved because I had with her a contract that purportedly had no exit clause (the contract Freya had designed and who had set the conditions of the deal ending). I still don’t know why Freya ended up considering me “unworthy,” but that really isn’t much of a relevant thing anymore.
I was the villain because I gave her what she wanted. I was unworthy because I followed the dictates of Freya. I was to be crushed because I simply wanted someone to love me in the way they asked to.
The clenching end came one day after months of the suicide getting worse and worse. I broke down, begging just to be hugged. Finally, and with exasperation though still technically with me even after the kitsune’s deed, she agreed to hug me.
I collapsed down, wrapping my arms around her tight as my face pressed into her stomach. I need to feel that someone loved me, that someone could help me, that someone who I had protected to the point of death would, hopefully, at least protect me from death. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders for a second and then I heard her voice:
This is why I don’t find you attractive anymore.
I dropped the hug and jerked away.
I needed help.
I needed love.
I needed to feel safe, that I wasn’t alone, that the person for whom I had continually risked everything for for the last four or more years had my back. That she didn’t want me to die. That she wanted me to live, with her, to find joy again in a world that increasingly seemed hopeless. That it hadn’t all been for nothing. That I hadn’t all been for nothing.
But I was the Devil. I made the deal. I was evil.
He was the righteous one, the one who deserved her love. Sure, he loved another woman too, sure he’s supposed to go find that other woman and marry her and live a life and leave my ex alone. A full list of his…qualities…would be long and probably considered highly unmanly. He was the one content to lead a man who used foul mental magics to dominate her will, shatter his brother’s home, and break every ideal of moral behavior keep her under his thrall after discovering the truth. But I was the pathetic one, the unworthy one, the one who couldn’t do anything right, wasn’t making anything of himself. He’s the one who broke his oath to his brother of nearly a decade, turning his brother’s patron goddess against him, killing two parts of his brother’s soul…
But I’m the one she texts and screams at and insults and threatens when I talk about what he did. I’m the one she threatens to unmake utterly for daring to talk about what happened to me. For speaking of the pain of losing the archleon who had been a part of me since childhood. I’m the one she threatens to take away those few things left that I have left to love when I remember the pain of my demon’s death as the contract was torn from me and destroyed without any compensation. I’m the one she calls a petty, pathetic, jumped up minor god when I dare to talk about having the love of my life ripped from my heart.
And you know what…maybe I am pathetic. I mean, hel, I lost parts of myself trying to help a woman who had already abused the crap out of me for the sake of an honor-less dog. I probably should have known what I was getting into when it came to a fox running about. I mean, I could see in his eyes and his wyrd what he would do once he told me that he loved her. I knew then I should have killed him, because he would likely kill me trying to take her. He could not share a woman, regardless of any oath he made (though he could certainly make his women share). I saw what needed doing to protect myself, keep that which I loved…and I didn’t do it.
Gods, when Hel gave him the clap (or some other nasty and permanent std, I forget) after he messed around with my ex, it was my prayers to her that caused her to show mercy, even as I comforted the man who had betrayed me. I was kind, I had hope that he would apologize for what he did, try to make it right. That I need not truly lose one whom I called brother. I had hope that he still had enough honor to make right what he had done wrong. I even told him “you have done me a wrong,” but his only response had been that it didn’t matter, he’d been in the right.
It wasn’t until months later, when I called him out again and he again responded such that I took action. And I won. It was brutal, humiliating, and faster than he saw coming. She still hasn’t forgiven me for doing it, even though it was under orders from Skadi and Hel, whom he had also insulted. I probably am pathetic, that it took orders from my two Patronesses to do what I should have done instantly on my own.
My ex likes to say I’m not Norse. Sometimes I think she’s right, I don’t have the same brutal, battle eager, berserker nature that so many Norse do. I lost the bloodlust of my youth to the injuries of battles. Truth is, sometimes I think even having been adopted in by Hel, I don’t think I’m all that Norse. Recently I’ve found out some stuff related to that, but that’s another post.
Maybe I deserve everything she’s done, all the abuse she’s heaped on me, the nagging, the correcting, the “it’s not good enoughs” and the “you’re doing it wrongs” and the “you’ll never be anything.” Maybe I deserve the hate, and the vitriol, because I Owned her, because I made a Deal, and even if I wasn’t cruel, or abusive, or even really used it all that much, leaving her to her own devices because I didn’t want to abuse my power. Maybe I was needy because I asked her if she needed anything when I passed by her on the way to get things for myself. Maybe I was pathetic because I became suicidal and I needed comfort, rather than overcoming it myself. Maybe I am petty for punishing the kitsune by the orders of my Goddesses, in their names and my own.
Maybe I deserved, deserve, the abuse.
What brought this on?
She posted an article on facebook. More over she posted it saying “this applies to dating too.”
I read it. Because I’m stupid, or I am apparently a masochist, or I don’t even know. But I read it, and I could relate to the husband so much. Nothing was ever right, and even if you didn’t make a big deal out of the little things, even when they hurt, the little things you did or didn’t do were worth chastisement.
So I responded that it was so relatable. Because I’m an idiot, or a troll, or both, or I just want a shot back at the person who treated me like shit simply because I tried to help them in the way they asked me to help.
And she responded back that I should shut up, that the reasons she left me were because of my patheticness, not the kitsune’s deeds. That she harassed and verbally attacked me because I dared to malign her present boyfriend. And that I should just go blog about it while listening to shitty metal.
Because she still reads my blog, for some reason.
So here I am. Blogging about it, listening to “shitty’ music. Vividly reliving the suicidal feelings and the depression of having the person you love most basically tell you to go slit your wrists.
I’m writing this for myself. But I’m writing it for others too. Not because I want pity. Pity doesn’t really solve anything. I’m writing it for all the guys out there in similar places, who’ve either had something like this happen to them, or are still going through it. I’m writing to let them know that you’re not alone. I can’t promise it gets better. The fact that men in my age group kill ourselves four times more than equivalent women kinda tells me it might not. But sometimes it helps to know you’re not alone.
So maybe I am a horrible person, because I made that Deal, to hold and protect her love. Maybe I am pathetic because I didn’t simply kill the kitsune and ride his blood to the crushing of my depression and the domination of all. Maybe I am petty, because I did what Hel and Skadi told me to do.
But I never told a suicidal lover that their need for help is why I didn’t find them attractive anymore. I never told someone I love that I dumped them because they “didn’t make something of themselves.” And I never turned my back on someone who needed my help, even when I had every right to and no one would blame me for leaving them in the shit hole they dug for themselves.
So here’s to the pathetic Devil I am. I might be a horrible person, but I suppose I can live with myself. Until I don’t.