dark

I woke up in the kind of mood where my biggest struggle of the day will be not to hurt myself or anyone else. My temper is out of control and I'm praying that said mood lightens before I have to actually deal with anyone.

A few months ago, when things were dark enough that I truly wanted to kill myself, a friend of mine - knowing the password because I'd needed something at some point and felt confident in sharing it with him - went into my email account and downloaded my entire phone's contact list so he could reach someone if he felt I was going to do something to myself. He thinks I should be grateful; appreciative.

I can, to a degree, understand his actions, but I can't forgive the breach of trust. I understand the desire to protect the people you care about; I can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing, at the time. The problem is that on my end, it feels like an absolute invasion of my privacy and sense of autonomy. Knowing that I have nothing whatsoever that is considered mine, and mine alone, and not to be breached or used or taken. Emotionally, it actually set me back, rather than helping in any way, and he doesn't understand - or care to try to understand - why that's the case. Setting aside that none of the people he could have called would have had the capacity to do any good whatsoever in a reasonable time frame, there's the fact that I already frequently struggle with feeling like I have nothing whatsoever that is mine and mine alone, and this underscored that.

I am a fanatic about how I dole out information about myself; I value my privacy and space above almost everything, and to have the modicum of trust I'd placed in him out of necessity breached so that he could feel like he might be able to do something is fairly unforgivable. I'd be able to let it go and forget it happened if not for two things: first, it has been months since that point, yet he refuses to divest himself of the information, which I've asked him to do repeatedly. Second, he thinks my view of this is unreasonable and that I should be grateful and appreciative of what he did in his efforts to "help" me. I suppose there's a third - that he used the information to insist that if I didn't talk to him about what was going on in my head that he would start making phone calls, and I would have to talk to someone about it.

I'm furious, hurt, and feel betrayed and held hostage by what is rightfully my own information - not something that he should ever have had access to; I feel that I can no longer write freely, speak freely, or think freely. He reads my journal, and while I asked him not to, I can place absolutely no faith in that possibility. So what happens if I have a day where everything is dark enough that I need to write about things that I won't do, and he takes it that I will and contacts my family or someone else? Not what I need, not what I want, and certainly not something I'd ever have expected of him, until now.

I am at the point where I am so angry and frustrated and hurt by his actions that I have blocked his phone number from both my mobile and house phones, and am refusing to speak with him. I want nothing to do with him unless he can see my point of view with a modicum of understanding, and unless he is willing to give me back what little privacy I have. Even saying that makes me angrier - the thought that I must ask for my own privacy back, and that it is up to someone else's whims.

There's more guiding my mood today, but I feel...incapable of writing any of it. I am wary of putting any of my thoughts into any kind of coherent form, because I cannot trust or believe that nothing will happen.

One sentence from our last argument echoes in my head - he accused me of being crazy. Not of having been crazy, but of being crazy, because I did not agree with his point of view, or see that what he did was right and acceptable.

I don't know as I want or have the capacity to be friends with anyone who openly refuses to even attempt to see things from my point of view, and who continually insists upon their rightness without even considering the other person's feelings. This isn't the first time he's been this way about something, but I'm realizing it just may be the last, when it comes to him doing it in my life. I cannot handle having someone like him in my life - it's destructive and painful and as much as it hurts to let go of the one person I considered my best friend, it may be healthier and safer and saner for me in the end. If nothing else, I can regain some sense of self and space and distance from others - which is something I need desperately. I sometimes feel like a live wire, vibrating with a dangerous current, and the only thing that will make that sense of rawness and energy dissipate is time spent utterly alone with my own thoughts, and without the world looking in and worrying or trying to help.

At the same time, I miss the sense of home and safety I had when N. was around - 39 more days until I see him again, and every day I seem to fall to pieces and put myself back together again. I won't say I need him or that this is simply an addiction I'm using to get myself through; neither is the truth. All I can say is that he lets me be myself, and manages to help when I'm crumbling.