A Bittersweet Destruction….

So as me and Jo were getting on each others nerves, I tried to make more “girl time” between my friends and I. We went to this local bar that held a dj, cheap drinks, fine looking men and women, great friends, good conversation, and the occasional interesting bar fight which exposed girls tits now and again.  There was never a dull moment at this place, and there was always an after party to follow, with plenty of booze and cocaine for everyone. It was only a matter of time before someone caught my eye. Now, I wish he hadn’t because he was trouble from day one when I heard the word “Vegas” come out of his mouth…lol!  A friend of mine knew this guy…. we’ll call him “Carl”.  Carl was a smooth talker, but too arrogant for me to tolerate. However, he was full of adventure, so I thought, that drew me to him. Yeah, I still had my own scenario that was dwindling down which I discussed in my prior post, but I had no idea where I stood with that, so it was pretty much free game. It was like teenage years all over again. Endless nights on the phone with countless hours of conversation. Debating back and forth between baseball teams, the latest trends, the dating scene, all while counting the minutes until he had to leave for work at 5 a.m.  How could I possibly resist this? Here’s a complete stranger that thinks I’m important enough to sacrifice his own sleep just to talk about bullshit. We definitely had a connection. He was from a troubled family, and I had thought he had a lot to offer since not only did he have his own vehicle and I wouldn’t have to transport him back and forth to his job, and he actually HAD a full time job. A GREAT job at that.  And his own place.   But you know that joke about the knight in shining armor turning out to be a loser wrapped in tin foil? Well that’s what I got. This guy was driving his car on a Cinderella license because of a default in child support, lived in a studio apartment that was about as big as my walk in closet, and had two kids.  Now, when it comes to me, I’m never one to judge anyone from their past. How can I? You’ve all read my previous blogs right? I’m no one to judge on the fucked up shit people do. How can I fault someone that has as much as they CAN have in that part of their life. As long as I’m happy right?   Right???

The first incident that I couldn’t let go of was on my birthday.  Two months after we started dating. It was New Years Eve and we were at his families house. He was so drunk that in a middle of a conversation about us to his brother in law he proceeded to say that I “was the biggest girl he’s ever been with”.. Okay, well, now “Jo” who I discussed in my prior post was a cook. Whatever, I got comfortable, and yeah I put on a bit of weight. Not disgustingly heavy. I definitely carried it well, but really??? How could he say that. I’ve seen a few of his exes and to even say something like that totally crushed me. And from the looks on the faces of his family, they weren’t too impressed with his comments either.  As he continued through the next two months of resisting calling us boyfriend/girlfriend, it was like I was a child all over again, trying to prove myself like within “daddy issues” to prove that I was worthy enough to be loved and cared for. He resisted, and I persisted. 

 

We ended up being together for three incredibly long years. With bruised faces and egos, arrests, and restraining orders later. It’s still so bittersweet. There were so many instances in regards to other women, lies, friendships that developed so much turmoil along the way.  On the lighter side of it all, this guy showed me a lot of smiles. We did a lot of things together, and I grew very close to his kids. It’s so unfortunate that he became a pathological liar, or so I think. This guy became so bad that he accused me of sleeping with everyone under the sun. I had never cheated on him whatsoever, no matter how much crap he put me through. Well….. except for ONE time, when I woke up on my own couch, in my own apartment, after being tormented all night and then getting a phone call from my mom the next morning telling me to get my ass to her house. Jo had came to Massachusetts to visit. He showed up at my moms house in his brand new car, and told her all about his job, and said “Your daughter told me to get my shit together. And so I did. And I want her back.”  THIS was probably the hardest thing in my life. Here’s the guy I believed was my soul mate telling me that he got his shit together to better his life and to build a life with me, and here I am dealing with with an abusive asshole that I couldn’t understand how he could be so bad to me when I was so good to him.  He told me to quit my job and move out there and that he’d take care of everything until I could get on my feet out there, just so we could be together.  Unfortunately, the town I’m from is all I know. I hate it. But I’m an only child, who’s mom is my best friend, and this is where my family is. I was very nervous about that choice because of how independent I’ve been over the years, which is probably the only thing I can be proud of. I didn’t have a choice. Everyone I’d been with has been broke, or “in a bad spot” that never seems to go away, which leaves me no choice but to fend for myself. Like a cub in a pack of wolves playing the game of survival of the fittest. This really sucks. This isn’t a life a female should live. Yeah it’s taught me some great skills, but for it to be a way of life??? No effin way. 

Anyhow, as I’m in a relationship with a complete douchebag, and here is my god’s gift begging for another chance, I tell Jo that I can’t, because I have to respect the current relationship that I’m in. What a fuckin idiot I was. 

Still didn’t stop me from going out to Connecticut during a huge PowWow in my apartment…..  That was a crazy emotional weekend. I knew where I was suppose to be, but I couldn’t leave my family and my job behind. That’s all I had. I couldn’t trust him while in midst of our conversations he’d be scrolling through his phone. What kind of disrespect was that? It just brought me right back to where I was when I was 27.   How could I possibly have a relationship for the time being with my “soul mate” who lived two hours away, where my jerk boyfriend at the time lived now 30 seconds from my house.  (Yeah I forgot to mention I kicked him out after a long night of fist throwing).  I don’t know what kept me with Carl for so long.  Like I said, maybe it’s a crazy complex that I feel like I need to conquer to just prove to people that I’m really worth loving and that I’m a nice person. It just take a real strong person to claw past my harsh exterior to get to the real me. To show my true self will take a lot of dedication from the person that wants to see it, and it’s not an easy task, but I just can’t afford to put my heart up for gamble anymore….

So the end result with Carl, it got to the point where I didn’t even want to sleep in my own apartment anymore. This was MY place. It was MY name on the rent. I got two bedrooms in case I needed a roommate if things didn’t work out between him and I. We went through stupid endless nights from best friends, to arguing, to sex, to arguing, to distance, to best friends and all over again the next day. This was the true definition of a bi-polar relationship.  After three years though, I really did love him. Maybe not a healthy love, but there was love. The more he accused me, the more of the “tough guy” persona I unleashed, showing that he wasn’t going to bring me down no matter what he said or did. I wanted him to see the strong side of me, not the one he could break with a word or a fist.  Our routine got stale, and we no longer did all that fun shit. I hated that he had to pay so much child support, but respected that I, we, wanted to build memories that brought us close for the things we shared that he would always no matter what put money aside to spend time with ME. It was amazing. He made me feel important in his life. Is that why I stayed and put up with the bullshit? 

There were stories of other women that I turned my head to. Maybe because I knew of the secret sexual encounters that carried over from my guilt between me and Jo throughout that weekend in Connecticut, or when he came to Massachusetts to find me.  Maybe I didn’t see such an issue with the physical aspect of the abuse because I dealt with it so much already and I wasn’t going to let him get away from trying to make this work so easily. I don’t know. I can’t explain it.  Either way, after spending countless nights being faithful, sleeping at moms, sleeping at friends, sleeping in my car, just so I don’t have to face the verbal assault while I walk into my own apartment, I had to end it no matter how I did it. 

That week that he was to move out was the week of our anniversary, and the local govenor issued a warning for everyone to stay indoors due to the storm weather outside. I tried to make the best of it by agreeing to watch a movie and have him stay in the room, because in the meantime he was sleeping in the other bedroom. Which was quite okay with me. It was weird, because I was already past the point of being “okay” with how things were going. That’s just how I am. Once I get to that point, good luck getting me back to the way I once was.  Anyway, here came the trials. Let’s go to the casino. No. Let’s go to the movies. No. Let’s go to dinner. No.  I wanted no part of it, I was done. There was no turning back after everything he had done and made me feel. I couldn’t take it anymore, although I still had love lingering along.  He knew four days from then, he needed to be out…..

Four days later, his shit was still all over the place, unpacked, and he was passed out on the futon in the other room, hungover from the night before filled with his favorite bar with a side of cocaine. I stormed into that room and forced him to go. I had given him a whole month and a half to find a place from the last time we had gotten into a physical altercation and I wasn’t letting him milk it any longer.  He called his sister to stay in her building and a group showed up to move his stuff out. I stayed in my room, and cried. My mom and aunt came over for emotional support, and he was gone…. until a few days later… and then the torture began…..

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….And this is where it all began (Part 1)

So I’m still trying to navigate through this site since I’ve just joined, and I haven’t quite figured it out yet. I don’t know how to find “followers”, I’m not even sure that these posts are going public for people to comment on. All I know is that I wanna write and I want feedback. That’s all. No bells and whistles. No navigating around. Just something simple, like email. I vent to you, you give advice. Can it be that simple??

I actually don’t even know where to start for the hopefully potential followers to be up to speed.  Hmmm, let’s see… I’m a female in my 30’s, I’m pretty sure I’m the only person I know that doesn’t have any kids, I’m changing jobs next week, I just moved in with the boyfriend, my mom’s my best friend and my dad is a jackass. Four years ago,  I dumped and lost the best thing that could have happened to me, and I don’t think I’ve forgiven myself yet, and I’m reminded constantly by the things done/not done by my partners since then… and I struggle with that frequently….      My friends are pretty lame seeing that I constantly put it out there to hang out and do fun stuff to enjoy the Summer, but I’ve consistently being blown off, but good enough to hang out at the bars with. I’ve questioned and shaved off people from my life from time to time, but after a while, when I’m trying to connect with different groups of people or to do different types of things and getting the same result, I start questioning my own self value.  I’ve never been a conceited person by any means, but I’m damn sure that I’m a good person.  I’m smart, I’m self-sufficient, I think I can be an attractive person, I have a fun and adaptable personality, I’m a good listener and always willing to give advice or help a friend. And it’s tough to emotionally struggle because of wanting to love life so much and be treated well and just be happy, and then I see people who are “less deserving” seem to have the world.

So let’s take it back, shall we?

When my mother was pregnant and engaged, my father cheated on her with her best friend. Therefore, my mom ended up a single parent, which I’m grateful for. I’d go see my father every weekend until his wife (not the best friend) had a jealousy issue with me being a child from her husband and my mother, and she thought it was a better idea that I start sleeping over bi-weekly instead. My father, the effin coward, abided by her and put her first. Then proceeded shortly after to start bringing me to my grandmothers and take off to spend time with yet another girl he started banging behind his partners back.  Of course as a child I didn’t know all of this, I didn’t find out the reason of all the “drop-offs” until later, which my dad of course denies.  After him initiating this horrible complex of me feeling so self-negative due to being cast aside for ‘something more worth their time’, i.e. another woman, I decided at about the age of 12 I really didn’t want to spend my bi-weekly time at my grandparents house while my dad banged the mistress, or keeping myself occupied while I actually was with my dad while he slept or did his own thing.

To make matters worse, I can clearly recall asking for things for us to do that he turned down. McDonalds happy meals was about as far as my smile went. There was one time my mother actually gave my dad money telling him to take me to the amusement park that I wanted to go to. My dad wasn’t broke, he was just an ass.  When he got married, he ended up having a handful of kids which got everything they breathed on and more. It was rough watching that because I’ve never been a spoiled brat, and I tried to be ‘the bigger person’ but it still doesn’t take any of the sting away.   All of this resulted in yet a second complex, which I associate that with “Daddy Issues”…..

When I was about 7-ish, mom got married to a man in the law enforcement. It was really nice to have a father figure there, even though I never called him dad. He was incredibly strict though. All of my friends practically had to submit a blood sample in order to coordinate a sleepover, which is awkward, but now understandable.  Forget having boys as friends. He’d have these little condescending ways about him that back then I didn’t know how to handle to avoid it from making me feel inadequate. Things eventually became so mentally crippling that it ignited suicide attempts.

Cutting was the first thing. I don’t think I really wanted to die back then, I just felt stuck and alone, shoved in a corner, and emotionally beaten with no one/where to help. I remember making that phone call to my mom at work telling her that I hated my life, and that I hated how much I wanted my stepdad to be more loving and that the only thing I got was his law-enforcement attitude that he wore 24/7. Of course I only annoyed my mom telling her that while she was at work, but hey, I was about 13 and it was a direct cry for help. I thought expressing feelings when they get that heavy was good, no?

Mom ended up divorcing him when I was 14 after he told her that one of her extra-curricular activities that she picked up to spend more time with me ‘interfered with her home chores’. Then I found out a lot more that I really wish I hadn’t. Apparently he use to tell my mom that he wanted his own flesh and blood child, and that if my mom didn’t have one, then he would cheat on her to get the other woman pregnant to have a child.  This was after my mom had told him she couldn’t have any more kids, but still tried to keep him happy, and ended up pregnant, and then miscarried.  Obviously that was for the best, but it took a toll on me to know that he would do such a thing to my mom, and to our family for his own selfish needs, and of course made me feel not good enough to love. That makes two “fathers” that created these self-hate demons within….

And that’s where the madness began.

I had gotten good grades when I was younger. Always went above an beyond doing extra work, spent my summer filling in extra textbook work that my teachers had just to keep my mind active, and I truly enjoyed it. When all this stuff happened and I hit middle school, acceptance became my priority over everything.  It was like I almost didn’t have any standards or boundaries just so I could get, and keep, people in my life even if they didn’t deserve to be there.  I lost my virginity at 14, which was a nightmarish experience to begin with. A few months later I was raped by a friend that we liked each other, and this happened in one of my friends house, with my friends in the next room.  I started smoking weed, smoking cigarettes, and drinking. My best friends mom was the “cool mom” that would go to the local store and buy our boatload of friends booze and butts and we’d just have a co-ed fun fest all the time. I’m not really regretting all of that because honestly I had a lot of fun, have some great memories and felt the love between myself and friends back then.Plus, majority of teenagers have these experiences. I only regret it because the hurt I had inside didn’t allow me to have a conscience anymore….

Got myself into a relationship when I was 14 with a guy that we can call “Jay”. Jay was my longest relationship of four years, and the absolute worst. He gave me the time and attention I craved. He liked me, and back then that was good enough for me. I ended up pregnant 3 months into the relationship and was convinced by my mother to get an abortion, which I was against, but now feel like it was one of the best decisions of my life. After a year into the relationship, he started becoming mentally and physically abusive. I’m pretty sure I stuck around because I felt the need to prove that I was worthy enough for love and respect and that he’d open his eyes and realize how great of a person I have told myself I was over the years. Things only got worse, and sex equaled my vision of love.  We’d bang like jackrabbits as teenagers do, but then I’d have to worry about being an individual without pissing him off enough to become abusive. Not to mention when it came to other females he was kinda sketchy. I lost pretty much all of my friends because they told me that they can’t stand to look at my bruised face or hear my stories and not be able to do anything. Of course I didn’t have a dad for guidance, and my mom had found herself a new boyfriend that was incredibly awesome that passed all the test of being the potential fill-in daddy but I was so focused on what was going on in my life and trying to prove myself and deal with everything that I didn’t look for help at home. I’d get stoned instead.

And then the suicide attempts began again after a heavy dose of verbal abuse one night, picking on me and making fun of me, and him casting me aside for a girl he claimed was his cousin. I proceeded to take 34 sleeping pills and cut my wrists. Jay called mom and told her, and she broke my door down, caught me, and brought me to the local hospital where they fed me charcoal to absorb the benadryl, and shipped me off to a mental facility for a week of observation. At this time, I was about 16, almost 17, and all I wanted to do was get outta there and go see Jay. I was worried about what he was doing since he knew I was in a facility that I couldn’t leave.  When I got out, he wanted to try to make it work, and now that I look back, maybe I not only wanted to die at the time, but maybe I wanted him to think about how he’d really feel without me and hope that he realized how great I truly was, and to treat me well. I’d given up everything. Friends, family, sports, attention in school, my self-respect. I mean, everything. Jay got physical with me in the hall one day in high school and got expelled, and I ended up transferring out of high school to adult education night courses where he ended up going, because I was afraid of him meeting someone new.  THAT decision actually worked out well for me since it was a smaller class, more direct, and my grades started accelerating. . .

Jay was jealous. He wanted me to stop hanging out with my best friend who happened to be male, who hated Jay. And my best friends girlfriend, wasn’t too fond of our friendship either. One of the breakups me and Jay had, I met up with the best friend, where we both found out at the same time that our partners were sleeping with each other. Karma came around when the girl ended up pregnant. Do you think that stopped me? Nope. I stayed with this guy literally until he got a message on his pager with the hospital phone and room number, and then proceeded to go with him to the hospital the next day. In the girls room and everything….

I’m not sure what happened shortly after that finally kept me away. I think it was just that I had absolutely no energy left to really give a shit…

Phew! Well… there’s three large life-changing pieces that I’ve shared, and there’s more to come to bring up to speed of my current daily life issues. However, I’m due to get up in four hours to go to the bad place (a/k/a work). Stay tuned, and thanks for reading….. 🙂