My Obsessions

“Is there something you need to tell me?” Liam asks as I walk in the front door.

His arms are crossed and he has a serious look on his face. My heart drops to my stomach as my mind races.

What did I do?

Does he think you’re cheating?

Did I forget something? Did my cat ruin something?

Does he think you’re cheating on him?

Why is he mad?

He looks at me with a raised brow, expression unchanged.

“I-I don’t know. Why?” I ask nervously.

“Are you sure? There’s nothing you can think of?” He asks again, his tone now a little more dramatic than before.

Is this a joke?

No, it’s a trap. He thinks you’re cheating so he wants to see your reaction.

Maybe he’s just messing with me.

I shake me head, “I can’t think of anything.”

Liam walks to the sink and lifts the spray nozzle, “Were you going to tell me the handle on this broke or?” His voice trailed off in dramatic emphasis.

He’s just messing with me.

Or it was an intentional trap. He wanted to see how you’d react. He’s convinced.

No-no, he always teases me.

“I noticed it before I left for work the other day, I thought you broke it,” I say with a small laugh.

He gives me an incredulous look, “Uh-huh, so now it’s my fault,” his voice was heavy with sarcasm.

He wouldn’t set a trap like that for me. I’m acting silly.

No, he thinks you’re cheating and now he’s playing it off like it’s nothing.

The next day I found myself watching him closely, searching for any sign of distance. He sat at his computer, clicking away at his game. I planned to go to my office to get some work done but I paused.

If you take your laptop to another room, he will think you’re hiding something. He’ll think you’re in there talking to another man.

I look at him, then to my office, then make a spot on the couch. I try to focus on my work, but I keep glancing up at him, scanning him for any signs of change.

He’s convinced you’re cheating on him. You need to make it up to him. You need to make him trust you.

No, he never said that. He doesn’t think I’m cheating. He was only giving me a hard time. Let it go.

Anxiety builds within me. I notice his every movement, ready to flinch whenever he chooses to strike. I decide to go to the kitchen and get him a soda.

That’s right. Be nice to him. Prove to him how much you love him. Go out of your way for him.

“Here you go,” I smile at him.

“Thank you,” he says plainly, barely glancing in my direction.

There it is. He’s being cold.

No, he’s in the middle of a game, he’s distracted.

No, he is pushing you away.

Stop.

Hours pass, I hardly get any work done and eventually he catches me staring at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

His tone is uncertain, but not overly worried.

He doesn’t care. He’s waiting for you to admit something to him.

But I haven’t cheated. I’ve done nothing wrong.

Well think about all the times you’ve come home later than planned from work. He probably thinks you stay late to see someone.

He knows I don’t know what time I’ll be off. It varies. I can’t help it. It’s been like that for years.

He doesn’t trust you. He thinks you’re cheating.

“Nothings wrong,” I lie.

He raises a brow, “Are you sure?”

I smile, “Yeah I’m sure, why?”

“Cause you’re being needy.”

I play along, “I’m not being needy.”

He always jokingly calls me needy because he knows it bothers me.

He senses your anxiety. He definitely thinks you’re cheating. You’re acting suspicious.

I’m just trying to prove I’m trustworthy.

No, you’re acting like a cheater.

I’m not a cheater.

He thinks you are.

I don’t know what to do.

Prove yourself.

Days pass, I find myself walking on eggshells. Silently trying to prove my innocence for a crime I never committed. For something I haven’t ever been accused of. He’s told me million times he trusts me. Why can’t I just believe him?

Your obsession with him thinking your cheating makes you look like a cheater. Cheaters project onto their partners.

So stop making me fucking feel like I’ve done something wrong!

Stop acting like you have.

I’m not!

You are. So caught up in your own thoughts he probably thinks you’re daydreaming about another man.

I let out an annoyed huff. Then I continue playing along. Feeding it. Trying my best to play the perfect girlfriend. Trying my hardest to prove to him that I’m faithful. Telling him when I leave, who I’m seeing, when I’ll be back.

That only makes you look guiltier.

But not telling him will look like I’m hiding something.

Well then you better tell him everything you do.

But I thought it made me look guilty?

It does.

This continues on. I start oversharing. Going out of my way in every way for him. Changing myself to become more of what I think he likes. Convincing myself this is my devotion to him. That this is how I prove to him I’m good. That I’m innocent. That he has nothing to fear.

Months pass until finally the distance starts to feel real. Our conversations fall flat. The way he looks at me changes.

See, any day now he will accuse me. I did this. I ruined us. Stop acting like a cheater.

I’m not a cheater.

Well, he thinks I am.

“Can we talk?” Liam asks as he sets his dinner plate in the kitchen sink.

That damn sink. Where it all started. Where I couldn’t just let it go.

Here it comes.

“What is it?” I ask. Hiding the anxiety in my tone.

“I-I don’t really know how to say this. But, I feel like I don’t know who you are anymore,” he admits.

“What do you mean?” I ask, a knot in my throat forming.

“I-I don’t know. Something happened.”

He’s about to say it.

“It’s like you just started focusing only on me. It was flattering at first but then you just, disappeared.”

I looked at Liam. Though he was only a few steps away, it felt like I was looking at him from a distance. Like I wasn’t seeing him from my own eyes, but from someone else’s.

“So what does that mean?” I ask. My tone flat, uncaring.

I knew he would leave. This is my fault. I should have tried harder.

I did try. I tried to make him happy.

But I failed. I made him miserable instead.

“Are you happy in this relationship?” he asks.

“I’m miserable,” I say aloud. I only meant to think those words but there’s no going back now.

I did this. I didn’t even need to cheat. I still contaminated the whole relationship with my filth.

Liam’s face was now shrouded in despair, “So why are we still doing this?”

I opened my mouth to respond but I couldn’t find the words.

“It’s fine. You don’t need to answer. I had a feeling you weren’t happy anymore,” he moved from the sink towards the hall leading to the bedroom.

I hadn’t noticed but his shoes were already on.

This was planned. He won’t say it, but he thinks I changed because I cheated. He probably just doesn’t want the confirmation.

But I didn’t cheat.

I looked to him. The eyes that once greeted me with playful love were empty. Whatever love he had for me, was gone.

“I wish you wouldn’t have waited so long to tell me you were unhappy. You could have saved us both some time,” he said as he disappeared into the bedroom.

I stood, frozen in place listening to him pack his bags.

Standing there like a guilty little rat. I’m not even fighting for him. Only someone who is guilty wouldn’t fight.

I-I can’t. I didn’t do anything wrong.

Liam walked out of the bedroom, carrying two suitcases, “You don’t even have anything to say?”

“I-“ my words fell flat.

See, he wants me to admit to cheating.

I haven’t cheated.

He thinks I have. That’s why he’s really doing this. It’s another test to see if I’ll admit it.

I have nothing to admit to. I haven’t cheated! I’ve never cheated. I love him.

Do I?

Of course I do. He’s amazing, he’s funny, he’s sweet, he’s thoughtful. He’s the love of my life.

Is he really?

I got so lost arguing with myself that I didn’t notice him walk out the front door.

What have I done?

I stood in cold silence for hours. Unmoving, trapped in the bickering of my head until I finally moved to the bathroom. I turned to face the mirror, flipping on the light switch, I met a set of eyes. They should have been familiar. I should have known them, but they were the eyes of a stranger. I looked at the mask I wore, knowing tears sat locked behind it.

I never cheated.

He never said I did.

I don’t know who I am anymore.

I do.

Who am I?

Me.

Authors Note:

I have genuinely been stuck in this repetitive thought before. Two weeks ago in fact. The beginning of this story is 100% true (Other than the changed names.)

Obsessive thinking is all consuming sometimes. I am fortunate to be self aware enough to know when my thoughts are irrational, but it does not stop them. They keep coming and then I start to seek ways to alleviate my anxieties.

Well, I learned that giving in to those anxieties and finding ways to reassure yourself, reinforces the obsession. Which makes logical sense. But, it also means I have to sit in my discomfort. Trapped in my own head.

I almost didn’t write this because one of my obsessive thoughts is that if I write about my partner and I breaking up, we will. That somehow me writing a fictional story will influence my actual relationship with him. I pushed through the fear and wrote it anyways. It was uncomfortable, but I did it.

If you understand the feeling, I hope it gets easier for you.

Thanks for reading,

-K.M.