I Realized I Was Being Evaluated, Not Loved

NOTE: Every action I make is under surveillance, which includes writing. I’m doing my best to keep notes and add these when I’m not being watched.

Friday Morning

I woke up around 7:15 this morning and checked a message from the bank. Fraudulent charges again. I literally just got a new debit card this past week, so that immediately started the day off stressful.

While I was handling that, I noticed Nate had only transferred enough money to cover what he personally had coming out. Not his share of the bills. Just his own expenses. I asked him calmly if that was all he intended to put in.

That was all it took.

He immediately exploded. Called me a bitch. Said he wasn’t paying another dime. Told me to go fuck someone else. Accused me of cheating again. Said I am always withdrawing from him emotionally and that this entire situation is my fault. Then came the usual list of everything he says he has done for me and how I have supposedly given nothing back.

At one point, I laughed out loud. Not because anything was funny, but because it felt so disconnected from reality that my nervous system almost didn’t know what else to do.

I told him things had actually been going okay until Monday, when he got angry that I forgot about the truck. I asked him how hard it would have been to mention it before I got off work, or when I was in the garage, or one of the many times he came into my office talking about watches and Jared and everything else except the truck.

He refuses to accept any of that.

Even after I apologized Monday night for forgetting, he ignored me. Later he said it was a “bullshit apology” anyway.

The argument kept going for over an hour and a half. At some point he started saying he watched me on the cameras and that I was hiding my phone. I checked the footage myself. There is no possible way he could see what he claims he saw, not this time and not the other times he has accused me either.

I am not denying I use my phone. I am saying I was not doing anything wrong.

That distinction does not seem to matter anymore.

Now he is in the other room mocking me while I sit here trying to process how a conversation about fraudulent charges and bill money somehow turned into accusations about my character, my loyalty, my intentions, my phone, my reactions, my entire existence.

Lately, ordinary moments no longer feel ordinary here. Everything feels like it can become evidence.