I heard everything he said. "I've had a bad childhood." "I'm not sure I know what love is." "I have issues dealing with anger and stress." It was never called PTSD, and I had no idea.
I listened to him when he said "If I tell you to leave me alone, leave me alone." So I did.
I also made sure he was sure - "Are you sure you're up for this?" "Are you sure you want a relationship?" "Are you sure you want to move in together?" "Are you sure you want to get married?" I listened to him when he said no, I listened to him when he said, "Yes, now."
I listened to him when he said "I don't have a problem with our relationship, so if you want counseling, if it's that bad, then go." Unfortunately, I listened even then, and kept on.
I listened when he said "I'm done running. I've been divorced twice, it won't happen again. We're in this, for better or worse, until death do us part."
I listened when he said "I'll consider getting help."
And now I'm listening when he says "I'm done. I don't want to get help. I don't want to relive anything. I just want to be alone." After there is finally a name, Complex PTSD, and it's not just the "anger issues," "stress issues," anxiety and depression I thought he had. Because it's so much deeper.
Now, when it's not just his life he's affecting, it's my life, too. I'm listening. And I'm letting go because it's the only choice I have.
I love him, still. And I'd be willing to let the past go, to start with a clean slate, and say "What we had was good sometimes, but there were parts that were bad, but we can fix it. I'm willing to let it go to fix it." But that requires him getting help, too. And he won't. And it sucks.
Sorry, that got way...sad. And angry. It's that kind of day for me I guess.