Guy the Dick, my ex

Ha, so I've decided to call my ex "Guy the Dick" in the interest of...anonymity and my usual, subtle degree of respect. This is my story. These are how I perceived and felt. This blog, other than my scant 1 hour a week of therapy, is my only platform whereby I can set free all the thoughts and feelings I was too afraid to say out loud.
The secrets were making me sick. I was invalidating my experiences to save others from embarrassment. Sometimes you have to throw down the gauntlet and save yourself, you know?
This past relationships was an exercise in stifling me. I was virtually invisible, a modest statue in the corner that made Guy the Dick feel less alone and more powerful, after all he bought and paid for the statue and dammit, it need to pose exactly as he wanted.
I'm still mad. I choked on angst night after night, as I silently screamed about the injustice in a relationship in which I was denied basic human rights, the same ones all the other three in the household had.
What kind of low-life, under carpet dust speck was I that allowed a mirror loving, egotistical breathing thing, to treat me as so subpar that I was unworthy of having my own bed? Why was I chastised and relegated to, what amounted to, a spare makeshift bed in a heavily trafficked family room? Was I invisible? Did Guy the Dick even once see my plight or consider how it must have felt? Nope, Guy the Dick can see and sense only his own needs. No one else's matter.
When you know, you Know someone, your partner, the one you want to spend the rest of your life with is sick with serious illness, do you not ask if there is anything you can do to help? Do you take them to the doctor? Cook and serve chicken soup and try and find something that will make their life easier? Show you care? Do you care? Nope, not if your partnered with someone like Guy the Dick.
I was angry, heavily frustrated and feeling totally powerless being an invited poorly treated guest at Guy's. I couldn't fathom the right words to ask for what any breathing human needs, dignity. I had blindly and wholly put my faith and trust in my mistaken belief that people were good and caring through and through. I couldn't believe that I would ever be treated as less than equal.
When you are a guest and have zero self-esteem you just take whatever is thrown your way. You are at the complete mercy of the selfish inn owner.
I guess I didn't think much of myself. Did I deserve exactly what Guy had?
If Guy got sick, I'd automatically take care of him. I'd constantly be asking and thinking about what I could do to help him.
See, I thought he thought like I. Gotta hate that autism at times. My inability to see the narrowness and indifference of my ex kept me subdued on the couch.
It was pure cruelty. Really. Okay, maybe the mental illness of narcissism played a hefty role, too. It wasn't right. I had no dignity. I was not afforded any respect.
I So Did Not Deserve That!!! Guy you Dick!