Repressed, Depressed and Possessed - (Ruth Harris Series)

Chapter 19

I never told Mike about that whole night. He never told me about his soldier reunion though, so I just called it even and moved on.

Our relationship slowed down a bit over the next month. Mike and I talked less. To be honest, I spoke to everyone less. I don't know why. You would think everything was peachy - Hunter and I were friends again, Mama and I had rebuilt our relationship stronger than ever, and for once in my adulthood I felt like she loved me again. We both had a lot to forgive, but we came through on the other side of it with tear-stained cheeks and our arms wrapped tightly around each other. Andy understood me more and more each day. Our family was back together again, but a small something still bothered me every day that made me feel isolated from them all.

I suppose Mike changed. Everyone changes at some point. That was what scared me the most about relationships. People change. It happens. People grow bored and people grow apart.
               Sometimes the change is obvious: one's mannerisms become less attractive, perhaps greetings become less exciting, or their words stop being so sweet and you start bossing each other around a little more. That kind of pernicious shift can be prevented, when nipped in the bud. But sometimes the change is so...subtle, so initially inconsequential, that you don't notice the tension building until it is too late. That is what happened in January. I can't even be sure if it was Mike or me who changed. I would lean towards naming him, but I'm sure he would say the same about me. I do know this for certain: the so-called 'honeymoon period' ended, and suddenly I felt bored. No, that's not the right word. I suppose 'tired' works better.
               At first my lethargy was minor and ignorable, but then the more I ignored it the more I realised how I shouldn't have to ignore it, so I would want to talk to Mike about it but I knew he couldn't handle the criticism so more and more emotion got bottled up in my brain. I was caught in a sort of tiredness cycle, where I overthought my lethargy until I felt more unhappy than I actually was. The only way to break the cycle before I spiralled, was to remind myself that I was still in love with Mike. I still cared deeply about him and wanted to be with him forever (even if it felt like I already had). Even Jonathan and Sarah had climbed on board when they saw how solid our relationship was! Jonathan recommended couples counselling but the thought of it made Mike want to puke. According to him, 'couples counselling is for couples who have problems, and we don't have any'.

But sometimes, when the cycle played out for a while, I would let myself panic. I know that films give people a false idea of love and romance, but I also know that I had dreamt as a teen of a fierce, unwavering 'Hollywood love', where me and my soulmate would kiss passionately in the rain, he would always know how to make me smile and if it came to it, we would die for each other. I had promised myself back then that I'd never settle for anything less, and right now I felt, well, settled.
               Maybe I could have that love with Mike: or perhaps this was as good as relationships got? I couldn't know without talking to him, but on the off chance that my dream relationship existed out there somewhere, I knew it would be possible to have with Mike. And if so, I needed to know how to get it before I threw in the towel and broke both of our hearts.
               Ameliorating a relationship takes two people, but (and I hate to admit it), Mike was not ready to fix what he didn't think was broken. I tried on various occasions to raise my concerns to him, but he would see it as a criticism of his manhood and get angry. He wasn't typically an angry man, not with me at least. He was angry at the world, at life, at war, but not at me. He said he loved me.

In hindsight, I wasn't nearly as concerned as I should have been.

One particular night springs to mind, when I think about the fading of our flame. We were sitting on Mike's sofa, watching crap telly. We couldn't agree on a film. Anything with charming men or muscle-heads made him jealous, but neither of us wanted to watch an emotional film. There were plenty of emotions in the air already.
               My alters and I were having an internal conversation about him and how he hadn't said a word to me in the last hour. I had tried to speak. I asked him how his 1:1 with Jonathan went that afternoon. He just shrugged. I asked him what he wanted to do tomorrow. He shrugged again and stuffed some popcorn in his mouth. So then, feeling pretty deflated, I switched off the tv and positioned myself in front of him.
'Mike?'
'Mm.' He tried to kiss me but I backed off.
'What do you love about me?' I was blatantly attention seeking, but I wouldn't have had to if he offered it to me freely once in a while.
'Ask Hunter. He always knows what to say.'
'Yeah! He'll compliment you until Mike looks like an ungrateful little -'
'Perhaps we should just let Ruth deal with this one. She is the girlfriend in this relationship, after all. If she needs reassurance, let her ask for it!'
'What?' Mike snickered, trying to grab the remote from me.
'Mike! I'm trying to have a conversation with you here. I said, what do you love about me? Pick your top three reasons.' I smiled in anticipation. Mike shifted on the sofa, his face serious and taut.
'Er, I love you,' he started, 'because you're beautiful...and thoughtful, and...kind.'
'Really?' I finally let him kiss me.
'Yeah. What about me? Give me your top three.'
'I love you, Mike Anderson, because you are gentle, handsome, and you make me laugh.' Mike grinned and turned the tv back on.
'I guess that's that then.'

I know what you are thinking: why is that so bad? That was a lovely moment between a young couple! And it should have been, except that none of it meant anything to me. None of it made me feel anything anymore. Two months ago those words would have sent happy tears to my eyes, but now they were just, well, words. I remember talking to my Mama the next day, and she expressed some of the wisest words I ever heard.
               She said, 'No Ruth, you cannot become desensitised to love. If you do, there was no love in the first place, just infatuation. If anything, love should desensitise you to every other emotion because it's so undeniably real compared to everything else you have ever felt!'
'But Mama -'
'But nothing, Ruth. I loved your father with an undeniable, out of this world kind of love. When you find that, you'll know.'

That scared the hell out of me. I thought I knew love, but I think I just knew infatuation. One man showed me a snippet of the attention I had been craving since I was eight years old, and I told him I loved him for it. If that is the height of love, then love is not worth feeling.
               It must have scared the hell out of Mike too, because when I brought those words to him he sent me to A&E.

Until that day I did not think it possible. I did not doubt Mike's integrity as a man, nor his morality as a soldier. One would assume that life had knocked me about enough to make me sceptical of the charms of a man like Mike, but honestly, I think my past only made me flee into his arms quicker. That's why I vowed to write in this book, somewhere, anywhere, a warning to those of you who have had their fair share of trauma in this lifetime. I want you to understand and remember that when you find a partner, please, please, please just make sure you are running to them, and not away from something else. Let love find you, don't flee to it.
               That being said, it wasn't until almost a year of dating Mike that I realised I had been a victim to his brazen sense of inconfidence. I hated my life so much when I met him. I was a wreck. I knew I would be dead within a year if I didn't feel some kind of validation quickly, although I would never have admitted it to my selves back then. I dissociated too often to get a word in anyway. So, when a strapping young man showed an interest, I fell into his trap like a lamb being thrown to the wolves. When he needed me, I was there. When he kissed me, I persuaded myself that I loved him. It has taken me so long to understand that to the extent that I do, and I only pray that no one else has to endure something like domestic abuse before they can understand it too.
               However, for all the clarification my eyes have now, back then I was still as clueless as I always was. Mike started hurting me on a daily basis and I did nothing. I told no one.

After this trip to A&E in January, my faith in love was shattered. Until that day I had been infatuated with Mike, then unsure of us, then hopeful for our relationship to take off once again, but when that awful day rolled around, I knew life could not get any worse. I knew I could not let myself fall for someone ever again, because I was cursed. Love was cursed. I had never seen it survive in my lifetime. I warned myself to never play with the flames of it again.
               Yet, I let myself dangle above the fire for three more, whole weeks before I was saved. I will tell you what I can based on the scraps of information my brain has allowed me to gather, but please, all I ask is that you do not judge either me or Mike too harshly. My boyfriend was haunted by PTSD and I was possessed by DID. We were a scrappy pair at best, and toxic at worst. That is pretty commonplace nowadays.