For the past couple of weeks, I've been trying to talk to Tom about Thanksgiving. My family invited him to my aunts house to spend Thanksgiving with us and I'm trying to figure out if he's going to come or not. He told me he wanted to go, he just needed to work some stuff out and he'd be able to come over after dinner at his grandma's house.
I should know better by now than to believe him when he says he can do anything. So many plans have been ruined because he says he can do something, but it turns out he really can't. And each time hurts a little bit more when it happens, because I'm so tired of it happening....
I thought things were pretty much set for Thanksgiving, that he would come over after dinner at his grandma's and visit with my family for about an hour or so. He knew how much it means to me, having him there with me and my family. I told him how crappy I've been feeling about the holidays and so I thought he was going to make it happen. Tonight, Tom checked in with his mom from my house and his mom started bitching at him about Thanksgiving. Apparently, she thinks visiting with my family on Thanksgiving for an hour is considered playing and doesn't want him to go, and let him know by laying the worlds biggest guilt trip on him.
As soon as I heard this I started yelling at Tom about everything he promised me and how shitty is was of his mom to say all those things...about how visiting with my family is considered playing. I couldn't believe it. I've already given up on the fact that I will never be invited to any of his family gatherings, but for his family to make him feel bad about wanting to spend time with mine, who openly invites him to everything, that pissed me off.
In my haste, I began yelling every single horrible thing I've ever thought about our relationship, telling him he should just get back together with Faye and make everyone else happy, and just continue his miserable mess of a life. Its quite obvious that if he was with Faye and wanted to do any of the things he wants to do with me now, no one would have a problem with it. I started yelling at him about how he wasn't invited anymore because I didn't want to see him, because I hated him, because I hated being with him and feeling as horrible as I do when I�m with him because of all the shit he puts me through.
I said mean, terrible, horrible things that I shouldn't have...I said them in hopes that my anger and rage would dissipate after the fucking shit hole of a month I've had dealing with stressful ordeal after stressful ordeal...but it never went away. Well, on the surface it went away, inside it continued to fester and boil away, until it wore me out and I passed out watching CSI in my bed with him. I then kicked him out after we woke up, wanting nothing more than to go to bed and never wake up again...