P
Phaedra777
Guest
When he was giving me the tour of his house and one room was a veritable shrine to his ex-wife. 
As we say in the South,He told me that if we were going to have a future together I had to get rid of my cats.
My response? āBye!ā![]()
Yep, Iāll be using that phrase from now on.As we say in the South,
āDonāt let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya!ā
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Consider that my gift to you. It comes in quite handy.Yep, Iāll be using that phrase from now on.
I had one date with a friend of mine, and we were planning a second date, when we had a conversation that ended up being a deal-breaker for me. He asked me how my day was, and I told him that I was just back from an appointment with my therapist. He said to me, āYou donāt need therapy, you just need to go to your confessor more often.ā
Yeah. Itās triggery for me, too: Iād initially started going to therapy for the depression that had come with not being diagnosed for so long. My therapist literally saved my life a couple years before the incident of the know-it-all guy, when my depression had spiraled into persistent suicidal thoughts, so I was not about to let this particular yobbo tell me how to take care of myself, which made it all the more clear, I was not meant to spend my life with this guy.
That is such a trigger for me as someone with depression. People would never say, āYou donāt need to see an oncologist, you just need to get to confession more often,ā or āYou donāt need an appointment with a hematologist, you just need a good, holy priest.ā But when itās mental/emotional problems, oh - all that stuff will be mediated with more prayer and more frequent reception of the Sacraments.
That attitude is so dismissive and disrespectful of people with mental health issues.
And the irony is that if you went to a competent priest/confessor regarding your autism, heād tell you to see a therapist.
Luna
Yeah I always said it would be for me too⦠I guess the only reason I even kept dating him once I found out he smoked was because he literally NEVER did it around me, made sure never to smell like cigarettes, and had me convinced heād quit.If a girl smoked that was an instant disqualifyer for me. . . . UUUUCCCCKKK!!!
Itās a dangerous thing about a potential spouse if he understands medicine better than the doctors, law better than the lawyers, car stuff better than the professional mechanic, let alone theology better than the priest (better than the Church at any rate). Donāt wanna be judging etc. but it may be very hard to bear. It could even prevent any meaningful communication.I told him he didnāt know what he was talking about, that Iād had a doctor, a social worker, a psychologist, and a counselor with two autistic sons of his own, all tell me Iām a high-functioning autistic, and that the diagnosis was the best thing that had happened to me since I no longer felt broken or crazy. I broke off the date with him, and while Iāve chatted casually with him at the social hour after Mass, I donāt really go out of my way to be friends with him since then. Real friends donāt minimize peopleās health conditions!
Bad understanding of religion. Whatās next? What when the fridge runs out of food? Pray for food to show up in there or go and buy the groceries (and thank God for having a job to pay for it)? Grrrā¦I should also add that said therapist is a good Catholic working for Catholic Charities; I might have told him that at the time, but if I remember correctly, he still minimized it because said therapist is a layperson.
This sounds eerily like my Boyfriend #1.When he talked about returning to college, but never did. When he never changed the clothes he wore, the furniture in his house, his car, nothing. Fast forward - when he married his wife, he went back to school & finished his degree, sold the old house & redecorated, etc.![]()
I had the same exact feeling. Almost like leaving the Twilight Zone.After a physically and emotionally abusive relationship that lasted for ten years (yes, I know⦠itās both sad and infuriating to have wasted that much time, feeling like I just didnāt deserve any better), the final straw was when he had his umpteenth affair and I found out that this time the girl in question was 15 years old. He was 27. At that moment, it was like a light bulb went on inside my head. I thought:āThatās sick. A fifteen year old is a child. Thatās just disgusting.ā and just like that, I was done and it was over. No more fear, no more sadness. Just disgust and an overwhelming sense of relief and freedom.
