OK, here goes.
I wasn’t going to share my story that relates to this from a couple of weeks ago. I had planned to, but then felt so drained after it all happened. It took me close to a week to put my head back to normal. Also, I didn’t want to jump the gun, wanted to see how it turned around. But I did journal it privately.

A couple of weeks ago, BB (my love with PTSD) fell down again and shut me out - again. He’s overseas and I’m here in Australia. But he texts millions of times a day EVERY day or calls. And I know he has fallen down if I don’t hear from him for a few days, especially if it is of a Friday. Friday is freaky fingers crossed day for me – it’s his day off and he thinks – too much.

BB has battled the huge war against self-medication/self-hate infused PTSD, a warfare I’m sure you guys are very familiar with after frequenting and reading stories on this forum, and of course your own very personal experiences.

My heart broke into a million pieces when he did it the last time.
A million pieces because I realized I couldn’t do it any more, that I may have to let go.
A million pieces because I knew I couldn’t.
A million pieces because I was a mess.

This is a text I sent after day 3 of no sign from him. I sent several before, but I am relating this to shut outs and how they affect carers and how we communicate how that affects us right?

“Hi, I love you -- this is just really hard sometimes and I can’t help freaking out. This far into the plan, (coming to meet him in Asia en-route to Australia) I need to know where you are at, at least each day. My intuition is on red alert the past couple of days and really full on today.

By the fifth day of no sign from him, calling his work, and finally his home number to find out he was alive and fine and on his way to work.

This situation we have is two parts killer/ one part easier, with respect to time difference, communication possibilities and just general difficulties with not being able to physically see and touch one another.

So I freak out more, I start questioning everything. There’s alarm bells going off in my head. I’m crying , which starts confusing me as I can only ever cry when I am angry…then I’m all shite, there is no way I will be able to do any work today -- Faaark!

“What are you doing? You want a life of this?
You want to help him get to Australia.
You want to be so careless with your heart?
No way! No way! You’re a freak. The queen of fools!
Don’t you ever learn?”

Anyway, so back to the phone call.

S: BB!!!! Oh thank god! What the hell?

B: Long story, can you call back in 20 minutes? I’ll text you when you can call me back.

So I hang up.
Feelings of relief that he is OK.
Feelings of anger, but mainly feelings of relief that he is alive.
I think to myself – “He’s OK, you can go back to your life now – go have a shower, get on with your day. He’s not going to call back like he says. Whatever, phew, he’s OK. That’s all that matters. He’s OK, he’s OK.

Then, 20 minutes pass, an hour. I’m getting angry now.
Who does he think he is?
Who does he think I am?
I have a life to lead too, I can’t just drop everything when he decides it appropriate, when it suits him, when he’s actually sober. He’s controlling me, ironically controlling me while he desires me to control him. I can’t, nor do I want to control him!
Oh gad! How has he managed to do this?

And at this point I freak out. I’m really freaking out now. About everything, I want to call it off before it’s really gotten going. The self protection alarm signals are raging inside.

So I text him. I still have the texts as a reminder. This is how it unfolded.

An hour later.

S: This is so F***ked! Why are you doing this? I am beginning to think this is not going to work, I am actually f***king losing my sh*t here! A 5 min call or at least a f***king text! Is that really such a request of you? Grant me some peace of mind PLEASE!

BB: I’m just now on the bus to work, I’m late, we talk in an hour I swear.

An hour later

BB: Are you super pissed at me?

40 mins later.

S: Yep.

2 mins later.

BB: Fu*k!

One minute later

BB: What can I do to make it better? I’m sorry baby, I know I’m a world class fu*k up!

Two minutes later

BB: hey! I didn’t realize I was fu*king with you so bad. I’ve just been on a wander lately, ripping my heart out, trying to leave this pisspot. I’m really sorry for being a loser!

I’m tempted to respond to ease his pain, I’m ignited by words he uses, but I’m too mad – I feel frozen. Then I feel this huge surge of anger and sadness combined and I somehow beat this out, like my heart took over my hand.

S: That’s a cop out saying you’re a f**k up. I’m sick of that excuse. And it is an insult to me because I know I am not in love with a f**k up. I am however feeling like sh*t because you don’t seem to care about how your actions affect me. I have been crying my ****ing heart out for days – I can’t sleep, had to call in sick today and I am now an emotional wreck! And all because you think you can just pick and choose when I am allowed to be in your life.

BB: f**k! I didn’t see it like that. I’ve been super busy at work, my heads a dogs breakfast, I constantly beat myself up and then do dumb sh*t like fu*k off, drugs, drinking and negative thinking. I fu*king hate me, and never throw into the equation that you love me. I never wanted you to cry because of me again. I feel like sh*t and I’m sorry for being a loser.

I’m still angry! Is he fu*king with me? Is this what they do these people with trauma? Manipulate your feelings with their sorrow fused bullshi*t?

Bullsh*t! I’m a mess here, f*ck him! He’s just fu*king with me. They can all go to hell. I choose life! So I begin to text him just that.

But I am interrupted…I ignore the text I have received and continue to write and send mine. And I send it. Bam. Done! No more. F8ck him. I gotta look after myself and I can’t make him do anything, especially not from the other side of the world. Don’t let this get to you. Go have a shower. Time to get out of this house.

S: You’re not sorry. You’re just saying that to make yourself feel better. If you were sorry you would have me on the phone right now, sorting it out. You don’t want to sort it out, you just wana feel like sh*t, you just seem to wana wallow, it’s alike a routine for you. You don’t want me to help you fight away the bullsh*t! Well guess what? Fu*k you!

The text I had not read as I wrote and sent mine.

BB: I won’t ditch you ever again, and to try and make it up to you, I’m cutting out drugs and booze until I see your face again. And with that I can stop acting the fool and make knowing me worth it to you.

Straight away, before I even get to have a shower.

BB: Baby, I’m at work for another hour and as soon as I am done I will have you on the phone.

Yeah I’m sure you will. Ha!. Whatever! OK, shower time. RRRARAGH! Wanker!

I get out of the shower, my phone is beeping,

BB: Can you call me at work? I can talk now and I want to speak to you badly!

So I think. Shit! WTF? This all I have wanted for 6 days, and now I don’t want it. I don’t want to yell at him. ZI don’t want to make him as upset as me. I have no more words left anyway! I have thunk them and thunk them. I am so manic right now. I want to kill him and hug him and hold him and then kill him. Shit!
I can’t leave him hanging. I’ll have to do something.

S: Are you sure you want me to do that? I’m pretty bloody messy right now!

BB: Call me NOW! I’m going to make it better.

I stall. Oh no! Shit! Should I? I feel a bit out of control! What if I say something I regret? What if I make it worse?

I call him.

Now I could explain the 3 hour conversation we had. But I won’t. I’ve taken up enough room already.

I got angry.
He said it was justified.
He kept cutting me off when I said “next time…”
To say, there will be no next times, I will never cut you out again. I won’t shut you out. You’re something to believe in. You’re everything to me. It won’t happen again….

But he did go on the wagon, and he’s still on it and he sounds great and I think we may have made a break through.

Who knows?

Maybe not.

I think it will be good, I think it will be fine.

At least I finally explained how his actions affect me. And it also showed me how much respect I have for myself and what my limits are.

And it won’t happen again. At least, I won’t be hanging around to be his lover if it happens again anyway. Or will I?

See? That is the conundrum. I don’t really know. Hence the screen name Samsara. Is it endless? Or is the suffering of our love coming to an end?

At the moment I feel like it is coming to an end. At the moment I am very positive – more than ever. And I guess that’s the best I can do right now.