Thursday, March 24, 2016

Necessary Endings

So, apparently someone is PISSED that I decided to put the truth out there for all to see.


Yea, if I was a piece of shit human being, I wouldn't like it either. But guess what, sometimes the truth hurts.


Speaking of truth, and hurting, let's talk about what finally got me to my ending point.


Obviously, I wasn't there before. I love my husband, I wanted to work it out, I made excuses for his behavior, I tried literally everything I could possible think of, ranging from normal to insane, to try to make our marriage work. I cried. I begged. I took blame where I shouldn't have. I put up with shit no woman should EVER have to. I WANTED my marriage, no matter how toxic it was to me.


And then, Friday happened. And that was it.


My husband called me at work on Thursday morning, telling me that he was in town and wanted to see me (which was completely random and unexpected - but I was thrilled). I'd had plans for MONTHS to see Florida Georgia Line that night, which is my ALL TIME, most favorite band in the world, and he knew that. So he told me he didn't want me to miss it for him, because I would hold it against him. I repeatedly told him that it was more important to me to see him than to go to the concert, but I couldn't get him to commit to actually see me, even though there were plenty of interspersed "I love you"s in our conversation. He did this all day, which led to me literally laying in my bed sobbing at 6 PM, because all I wanted was him and he was playing his usual game of reel me in with lies and "I love you"s, and then as soon as he has me where he wants me, completely disappear and drop me again. Literally block my texts and calls, and ignore me totally, without explanation. It's sick. It's painful. And I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy. Seriously. Fucking shoot me in the chest, but don't fuck with my emotions that way.


So, I decided on Friday it was time to make a line in the sand.


I sent my husband a message, via both e-mail and text, because I never know what he has blocked, that said basically 2 things - 1. I was off work for the day because a water line had broken, and I would love to spend the day with him and talk to him, but that I realized more than likely that request would be ignored. and 2. That if I didn't hear from him, I would be at a certain bar at 6:20 Friday night, and would wait until 6:45. If he showed, we could talk. If he didn't, that was my sign that he didn't love me, didn't want this to work, and was done, and I would accept that and be done as well, because I couldn't keep playing his games. I didn't think I'd hear from him, or that he'd show up.


What I didn't expect is what he did next. Although, looking back, I probably should have. I should have considered the cruelest, most vindictive, terrible thing one person could do to another in this situation, and then prepare for that. But I didn't, because for some unknown and illogical reason, I still had faith that this man would come through for me, despite all evidence to the absolute contrary.


So I hear from him around 10 AM. He says he wants to talk, and will do his best to be there at 6:20, but that he has to drive out to Austin to test fly an airplane, so it would probably be a little later. I told him if he was actually going to show up, that I would work around his schedule. So we decided on 8 PM instead. All day, he sent me messages telling me he loved me, was excited to see me, and giving me intermittent updates on his "trip to Austin". At 7:30 he texted to say he was close to the lakehouse, where his car supposedly was, but that it would be 8:20 before he made it down to our meeting spot. Again, I said that was fine as long as he wasn't standing me up again. His exact response? "I WILL NOT."


About 5 minutes later, I got a text from a friend, who informed that he had seen my husband spending the day at the Airshow in Conroe. Things QUICKLY started to make so much more sense. He was lying to me again. Of course. But why? At this point, my head was SCREAMING at me that I had my answer, but my heart refused to accept it.


So at 8:15, when I was almost to the spot we were meeting, he sent another text saying it was going to be later and he would call me to explain in a few minutes. 20 minutes later, he called. The story he gave me was that "somehow" his dad had run into an airshow guy AND one of my husband's buddies from flight school (who freaking lives in Florida and would have absolutely NO reason to be randomly in Houston, btw) and so last minute they decided to take the limo down to dinner together.


It wasn't even a well put together lie. It was total and complete bullshit. And he knew it. And I knew it. And I called him on it. His response to me? Again, exact words: "I wouldn't have to lie to you, but I can't just drop everything in my life when you decide to come back around."


Let that sink in. When I decide to come back around.


Me. The one who never left. The one who has been begging for this man's time and attention while he's been running all over the country. Me. The one who has dropped literally everything in my life to do anything possible to save my marriage. The one who was willing to pack up and move across the country for him while I couldn't get him to drive across town for me.


But he can't "drop everything" when I decide to come back around.


Again, I know. This should have been my "That's it" moment. But again, my heart is stupid.


So I let him blame me for his lies, again. I let him keep me on the hook, again. And I agreed to wait while they "stopped by a friends house in the limo", and would call me when they were headed that way. His plan, or so he said, was to meet me while everyone else was having dinner across the street.


So, I waited at the spot we agreed on. Again. For over an hour. At this point, he's decided to just ignore my texts again completely. I called my sister, who very wisely told me that I needed to get up, walk away and be done. But I didn't. Instead, I kept waiting. Kept hoping. And kept looking like an idiot.


Finally, at 10 PM, I decided it was time to take action.


I walked across the street to where he said the guys were going to be having dinner. As soon as I walked in, I saw him and his buddy sitting with 2 girls having dinner.


Yep. Really. On a fucking double date with 2 girls while his wife is waiting across the street.


That was it. I fucking lost it.


I walked up to the table, where he had his back to me, and said "Hi, I'm the wife".


It was pretty chaotic after that. His buddy was trying to diffuse the situation, my husband was literally frozen in place not saying a word, and one of the girls was trying to give me some line about "woman to woman, I swear I didn't know". I basically had the entire patio's attention when I told him we could either do this right there or he could follow me to a more private setting. He still didn't move or say a word until his friend (who apparently has slightly more brains than my husband) told him he'd better go.


So we walked about 20 feet away, still with the rapt attention of the entire restaurant I'm sure, and I let him have it. I'm pretty sure, but not positive, that I was screaming at him. But I'm definitely sure he deserved it.


After about a minute of me asking him how the fuck he thought what he was doing to me was ok, he looked at me and finally spoke for the first time. And he said "I'm not doing this with you if you're going to act like this". And he walked off.


I didn't follow him. There was no point. I wanted an answer, and damn it, I got it. In the most shitty, cowardly, disgusting way possible.


I went home, and took a baseball bat to every wedding picture we had. I screamed. I cried. My sister seriously thought I had lost my mind. But I got it out. All of it.


And I'm finally done.


That's what it took. And it sucks.


It sucks that my husband is such a narcissistic coward that he would continue to play these games with my heart, It sucks that I let him blame me for so much for so long, when he is clearly so incredibly fucked up. It sucks I had to literally feel my heart break into thousands of pieces, just like those stupid wedding pictures.


But I'm done.


I'm standing up for me now. My life. My happiness. And the truth.


I've completely blocked him out of my life so that he cannot get ahold of me and continue his games. I'm moving forward with the divorce. And I'm protecting myself.


Because he never did. And never will.


I grieve for the person I thought he was. But that was a lie. The person he really is I want nothing to do with, ever again.


One day, he will love someone the way I loved him. Totally, completely, heart and soul.


And I hope that person does exactly to him what he did to me.


I let him do it, for too long. But not anymore. I have the control now, because I have made the necessary ending. It's done. It's over.


And life has already gotten so much better.


Removing toxic people from your life leaves room for happiness and love and good people. And that's exactly what is happening.


This had to end, because it was time for a new beginning.


Beginnings are incredible. And full of hope.


And so am I.

Monday, March 14, 2016

Oh But My Darling, What If You Fly?

Sometimes you don't get what you want.


Sometimes life falls apart, and there is nothing you can do about it.


Sometimes, no matter how hard you fight, or pray, or work, things just don't go the way you hoped.


This is my life right now.


I wanted my marriage. I WANT my marriage. When I said "I do", I meant every word. I meant that no matter what, I was commited to my husband. Through the good, the bad, the ups, the downs, the ugly, the painful.


I honestly never thought I would get married again after my first marriage. To be fair, neither did anyone else. I was too jaded, and hurt, and guarded to ever go down that road again.


And then, my husband happened. He walked into my life completely unexpectedly and turned it upside down. And for the FIRST time, I seriously considered the idea of marriage again.


I spent a lot of time thinking about why my first marriage didn't work. It was a lot of things, but mostly it boiled down to 2 things - We were too immature and young, and more importantly, neither of us understood the idea of commitment. We were both in it until it wasn't fun anymore, until we didn't "feel in love" anymore, and then we bailed.


So, the only way I was willing to marry again was with the full understanding that marriage is a commitment you don't walk away from. Even on the days you don't feel like it. Even on the days the other person pisses you off to no end. Even on the days you would rather do anything else.


I thought my husband understood that. I thought we were on that same page. And that's why I was willing to marry him.


Obviously, I was very wrong.


I've spent months now fighting for someone who didn't want to be there. I've done everything I know to do to make a marriage work. I've put everything I have into this. I believed in the commitment we made. I still do. Unfortunately though, I'm the only one.


He decided it wasn't fun anymore, and he bailed. He stuck around long enough to get what he wanted from me, and then moved on to other things.


Was I perfect? Absolutely not. Was I willing to do whatever I could to make him happy and be the person he needed? Absolutely.


But you can't fight for a marriage when the other person has already given up. Trust me, I've tried.


Am I ok today? Nope. Not even kind of.


Will I be ok? Yes. Eventually.


I know now that I am capable of loving someone completely. Committing to someone completely. Growing and changing and learning with someone. Being in a partnership. I know that my heart is capable of that kind of love, because I did it. And eventually, I will again.


This will not break me. I gave my best fight, and I lost. But that doesn't mean my life is over.


It will go on. I will be okay.


I got a tattoo not too long ago, and it's more fitting now than ever.


It comes from a poem by Erin Hanson:


There is freedom waiting for you,
On the breezes of the sky,
And you ask "What if I fall?"
Oh but my darling,
What if you fly?
 


Life is about standing on the edge, making choices, and fighting the best fight you can.


And I WILL fly.

Monday, March 7, 2016

The Truth

They say that the truth will set you free. I don't know that this is necessarily accurate, but I do know that I am absolutely sick and tired of being lied about. Especially when I have spent the last 3 years covering for and defending someone who SO.VERY.CLEARLY did not deserve my loyalty or respect.

So here it is: The complete truth. Sorry if this bursts your bubble about the person you think you know, but he is a master manipulator and I'm pretty convinced he's also a compulsive liar. So welcome to reality.

When I met my husband, he was a waiter. He told me he was a pilot of course, but really he only held a license, but didn't actually work as a pilot. He lived in a condo that was owned and paid for by his father. (But of course he told me it was his) Basically, he just had to make enough money every week to live on and support his partying. I fell crazy hard in love with this man. And, despite what he tells me now, I really think at one point he honestly loved me too.

He moved in with me after about a month. He would sleep all day or hang out watching TV while I went to work. He never offered to help with the bills. He worked in the restaurant a couple nights a week. After a couple of months of this, we sat and had a serious talk about where he saw his future. He said he wanted to be a pilot, but that hadn't been able to pass his CFIs in order to teach and build necessary hours to be qualified to fly either commerical or corporate planes. I believed in this man, and wanted him to succeed, so I told him I'd help him study and do whatever I could to support him while he went through this process.

And I did. I helped him make a study plan, and a timeline for completing various milestones. I worked 50-60 hours a week and STILL spent my nights going over flash cards, letting him teach me about airplanes, and whatever else ne needed to pass his written tests and checkrides to become a flight instructor. I was SO proud of him when he got it done.

He started working at the airport as a flight instructor, and spent most of his days up there. I was still completely supporting us, paying all the bills, paying for groceries or dinners when we went out, because flight instructors don't make crap. I got that, but it would really suck sometimes that he had no problem going out to lunch every day with the people he worked or flew with, while I was struggling to make sure all the bills were paid.

When we started talking about marriage, he said he absolutely wanted to marry me as soon as possible but couldn't afford a ring. I loved this man, I believed he truly loved me, and I REALLY REALLY believed that we were going to be a team and support each other. So I dug out one of my rings from my jewelry box, and that became my wedding ring. I paid for the entire wedding, the wedding trip to Maui, and all the expenses for both him and I. By myself.

Less than 3 weeks after we got married, he came home drunk one night after disappearing and not telling me where he was or who he was with, Because I had locked the BEDROOM door (he was able to get in the house just fine, but would've had to sleep in the guest room) he kicked the bedroom door in at 2 in the morning, and was drunkenly screaming at me. I tried to leave the bedroom, and he punched me, closed fist, in the face. The roommate we had at the time heard all of the commotion and called the police. My husband said he wouldn't go to jail and would tell them I hit him, so he slammed his head repeatedly into the door jam, causing a huge gash that was bleeding everywhere. I KNEW that something like this could end his flying career, so the first thing I did was call his father for help.

Even while I was on the phone with his dad trying to tell him what was happening, Mike was screaming at me. I went outside to get away, and he followed me out, punched the window in my truck, and when I told him he wasn't going to destroy my property, began hitting me again. The roommate literally had to pull him off of me. The cops showed up, took one look at me, and immediately took my husband to jail. He kept trying to tell them that I had hit him, but fortunately the roommate had seen him throw his head into the doorjam, and the 911 call the roommate had also picked up most of what was happening, so they knew he was lying.

I REFUSED to give the cops a statement other than to say I did not touch him, since he was trying to say that I did. I also refused to allow them to take pictures of my injuries. I called my attorney and made sure I did everything I could to protect my husband, despite the fact that he had just drunkenly attacked me and then tried to have my thrown in jail with his lies.

Why? Because I love him. Because I'm stupid. Because I had never EVER seen any indication of him being capable of anything like this and thought there had to be a logical explanation. Because I couldn't bring myself to believe that I had just made a huge mistake marrying someone who would put his hands on me.

Anyway, when he got out of jail 2 days later (his father bailed him out, but I went with him to pick my husband up) he was horrified and apologetic and swore he loved me and it would never happen again. But even then, his biggest concern was what we needed to do to make sure he didn't have his life ruined. My best friend's husband is an incredible criminal defense attorney, so I called him and asked him to please take the case and make sure my husband didn't end up with a domestic violence on his record. My friend agreed, warning me that if he took this case, he wouldn't be able to represent me in a divorce if that ever happened. I didn't care, because I wanted my husband protected by the best, and I never for a second believed that we could get divorced.

When the DA and the "victim's assistance" people called to try to get me to testify against my husband, I refused. They were downright mean at one point, telling me how stupid I was to defend the man who had done this to me and that he would just do it again and it would be my fault for allowing it. But I didn't cooperate with them, and told them they didn't understand because this situationw as different and my husband was NOT that person. I believed that. I did refuse however, to actually go to court with him or to help him pay the court fees, etc. associated with this. I told him he was on his own for that.

Long story short, he ended up getting a first time offenders deal because I wouldn't testify, and had to do a year of probation. As long as he was successful in that, he wouldn't have a record. However his monthly probation meetings and court ordered "victims assitance" payments added up quick, so what little money he did make flying went to that, again leaving me to pay all of the bills on my own.

My husband said he would stop drinking as a result of all of this, and that lasted about a month. (He wasn't supposed to drink while on probation at all - but that was quickly ignored) It started with a drink at dinner, then a beer after work, then before I knew it he was back to drinking as much or more as he had before. I told him multiple times that the amount that he drank concerned me, because I couldn't trust him when he was drunk. That just started fights every time about how I was trying to control him, or take away his fun, or how it was my fault that he was on probation to begin with.

Please don't misunderstand me... I love this man. We had a LOT of incredible, amazing times. Most of the time, he treated me with love and respect, and was everything I wanted. But that isn't what this is about. This isn't about all the good. It isn't about how much I adore him. It isn't about how committed to this man I am. That's all true. But this is about setting people straight on the lies that have been told about me. It's about getting my side of this story out. It's about how we got from there to here. And lot of it was because of alcohol. It became a huge problem.

He got so drunk one night we found him passed out in the drivers seat of his car after looking for him for 2 hours. Had a cop happened to see him, he wouldn've been in jail, no questions asked.

Another time, he got so drunk and mixed it with pills to the point where I found him unconscious on the floor, having lost all control of bodily functions and barely breathing. I had to call 911 and have him taken by ambulance to the hospital. I was terrified. I didn't even know until we were at the hospital that it was alcohol and pills, not a medical problem, that was the issue.

There are plenty of other examples, a lot of which his friends and family were witness to. The drinking was a problem. I thought so, other people thought so, our freaking marriage counselor thought so. But my husband didn't, so he kept right on drinking. I never knew exactly what I was going to get when alcohol was involved. Sometimes, things were fine. Sometimes, he would be irritable and moody. Sometimes, he would be downright awful. Verbally abusive, mean, and crossing physical boundaries. I learned the more he drank, the less I should. But even that didn't help when he was on a roll. If I tried to reason with him, it was pointless. If I tried to walk away, he would follow. If I tried to stand up for myself and tell him he wasn't going to treat me like that, he would freak out saying that I was calling the cops on him to have him arrested and he would get in his car and drive away drunk and I wouldn't hear from him until he sobered up and decided he wasn't mad at me anymore. (Hours, days, it's been up to a week of no contact. I never knew. It's part of the insanity.)

We went to Amsterdam for Easter, just the two of us. We ended up meeting up with a couple of girls stationed in Germany, and spent the evening exploring Amsterdam and drinking at a local pub. Everything seemed fine until it was time to go. On the walk back, Mike got pissed off because we somehow lost the other girls in the crowded street. He sat down and refused to move. I told him to give me my credit card and subway pass and I'd meet him back at the hotel when he was done pouting. He threw he wallet at me, and when I took it and started walking to the station, he attacked me. He punched me so hard that I lost consciousness. When I came to, he was standing over me screaming. I got up and ran to a taxi down the street, begging him to lock the doors. Mike tried to punch the window out of the cab to get to me, and the driver drove off with me inside. I didn't even have any money to pay for the ride to the hotel, but the driver was sympathetic and, after encouraging me to go to the police (which I refused - again) he took me back to the hotel.

I made up a story to the hotel clerk about being robbed, got a new room key from him, and locked myself in the room, and a short time later my husband showed up, demanding to be let in. I told him I wasn't going to let him back into the hotel until he was sober, and he started screaming about how I was stealing his passport and holding it hostage and other nonsense. The hotel clerk made him leave by threatening to call the police. I found out later that he called his dad, went to the airport, and somehow managed to get on a plane and back to the states by telling everyone that I had stolen his passport.

Then, whlie I was stranded in Amsterdam trying to figure out what to do, he and his father rented a U-haul and proceeded to go to the house and move out, taking both his stuff and mine. No apology. No concern for me. Nothing. He hit me. He left me in Amsterdam. And he took everything and put in his dad's hanger.

I should've been done then. I know I should've. He was still on probation at the time, so I should have gone to his probation officer, showed her the pictures, told her the truth, and finally let my husband suffer the consequences of his actions. But I didn't. I covered for him again. I defended him again. And I worked it out with him again. Because I loved him.

He said the problem was that the house we lived in was "mine" not ours, since I lived there before him. So, to make him happy, we bought a new house that was "ours". He got off probation in August. In September he decided he was taking a job with an airline that would put him in St Louis. No discussion. No "how do you feel about this for our family?" Nothing. I mean, I knew that a pilot was the goal. For God sake, I'd been literally supporting him to get him there. But when you have a spouse, you have to talk about major decisions like, oh, I don't know, taking a job across the country. But he didn't. It was, once again, all about what he wanted.

I was hurt and pissed that he thought it was okay to make a choice like that without his wife. But he wasn't going to change it, and after many arguements about it, including one where he literally said to me "I love flying more than you", I knew I wasn't going to win and if I wanted it to work I had to get on board.

I'd been telling him for months we needed a vacation to reconnect. He would tell me okay and then turn around and say he couldn't make plans, because he didn't know what was happening with the airline start date and that came first, always. Finally, I told him I was going to Europe for a week (I had to go for work anyway, so I took an extra week for vacation) and that I wanted him to make it a priority to come. He said he would. He didn't. He told me the NIGHT BEFORE we were supposed to leave that he wasn't coming. And yes, I got pissed. I was so hurt that once again, I wasn't a priority. That once again, it was all about him. That once again, I didn't matter. I told him I wasn't doing this and to leave.

He went to the lake house, and I went to Europe. I BEGGED him for the first 4 days to come meet me there, because it was all I wanted. It had been all I wanted the whole time. He kept telling me he would get on a plane the next day, he never did. When I got back from Europe, he was headed to St Louis for school the next week. He refused to see me and talk, saying that I had kicked him out and it was done and on and on. I begged. Again. I apologized. Again. He never did. But he "came back" in that he would stay the night at the house when he was in town from St. Louis - about 1-2 nights a week.

I tried to be as supportive as possible, but seeing your husband a total of 8 days in 2 months is REALLY hard, especially when you had no say in the decision. He kept promising it would get better as soon as he was done, and kept telling me it would only be a few more weeks. But it was always something, it was always longer, he was always frustrated and stressed, and I was always alone. It all sucked.

So I just kept holding my breath and waiting for him to get through the commercial pilot training school so that we could FINALLY be where we wanted to be. He would have a stable job and be able to help with the bills that I'd been paying. He would have his dream job, and maybe the dedication to that would be enough to curb the drinking and make him more willing to settle down, grow up, and be a family. I was even getting excited about a move to Raleigh, where he would be based, because it meant getting away from the negative influences here, starting a new life there, and building something together as a team. I was willing to leave my friends, my job, and everything I have here to follow him to Raleigh so that he could have his dream. And I was doing it happily because I LOVE him and WANTED to be with my husband, more than anything in this world.

Well, guess what? He finished school a week ago. And he left me. In the same week.

He failed a checkride, came home for a couple days, got insanely drunk, lost his shit when I confronted him about it, packed his shit and left. I didn't hear from him for a week, not one word. I finally met him at the airport to confront him, to talk to him, and to try to work it out. I had a lot of time to think, and the ONE thing I needed from him was for him to stop leaving. And I told him that. I told him I would follow him to the ends of the earth, that I would (and HAD) do anything for him. I just needed to know we were in it together. We were a team. That he was as committed as I was. And that we were going to make it work. I told him the leaving'moving out things had to stop, immediately and permantely. He said he loved me, said he would find a way to stop leaving, and then said he had to go fly a trip.

Which turned out to be a lie. Apparently it was all a lie. Because he called me yesterday, and told that he didn't love me. He told me that his goal had been to become a commerical pilot, and now that he had that, that's all he wanted and nothing else mattered. He told me he didn't care, he wasn't coming home, and he didn't want to be married.

So guess what? I got used.

I spent 3 years literally taking care of a man, supporting him, and helping him follow his dream only to be dropped the second he got what he wanted. But even better? He's upset that I'm no longer keeping his dirty little secrets. I'm done lying for him. I'm done defending him. I'm done pretending the things that he is doing are ok. They are not. And it pisses him off to no end that I refuse to play his game anymore. Apparently, he has lost some friends because of the way he has acted. But he blames me. He has never once taken responsibility for his actions. Everything is someone else's fault. Hitting me, drinking too much, leaving. All of those things he can justify by placing the blame elsewhere.

Am I perfect? Absolutely not. Have I been wrong? Yes. And I've apologized and tried to do better. I've taken a hard look at things that he tells me were problems, and tried to fix them. He told me that because I'm a perfectionist, nothing he does is ever good enough. So I tried to be more encouraging and less critical. He told me that I'm controlling. I can be. I tried to let some of that go for him, and let him figure more stuff out for himself. Those are his complaints about me. Basically that I was pushing him too hard, and controlling too much. Maybe it's wrong, but it was because I saw his potential. I saw the incredible man I thought he could be. I saw what he was capable of, and wanted him to want it to. And I was, and am, willing to change to make us better. Willing to fight for us. I believe in the commitment I made when I married him.

I wanted his time and attention. To be considered. To be included in decisions that would affect both of our lives.

This, my friends, according to him, is why being married to me is unbearable, and why he just used me to get what he wanted and then left. Because I wanted a partnership instead of a child. A man I could depend on. And to be with the man that I love. Safely. Completely. Happily.
What I'm asking for is pretty terrible, right?

I love this man with all of my heart. I did then. I do now. And the stupid thing is, I would probably still be defending him and lying for him and letting him use me, if he hadn't given me any choice. I want him to succeed. I want him to get help. I want him to be the man I know that he can be. But I can't make his choices for him.

But now, the truth is out there. Do with it as you will. Check it out for youself, a lot of it is public record. Choose to believe it or not. That doesn't make it any less true.

I love him. I will probably always love him. But I won't be treated like this by him anymore. And I sure as hell won't let him lie to everyone about what really happened to get us to this point.

Wednesday, March 2, 2016

You Don't Have That Kind Of Power

Today, I'm ok.


It's funny how completely removing yourself from a situation gives you a new perspective, because you can see all of it, instead of being stuck in the middle with limited views.


I have been so caught up in trying to make things work with someone who SO VERY CLEARLY didn't want the same thing.


I wanted stability, continuity, someone I could depend on, a partnership, a lover, a best friend, someone to explore the world with, someone who's shoulder I could cry on when I had a rough day, a man who would love me and fight for me, and we would always have each other's backs, always be a team, and take on the world together.


That's not even kind of what I got.


I got someone that I had to take care of financially. Someone who saw no problem with me having to literally pawn things to make ends meet while he continued to not contribute anything and use the little money he made to take care of himself first. I had someone who would only think of his own needs every single time, and only after those were met did anyone else's mattered. Someone who runs away (literally) every time he doesn't get his way or there is an argument he doesn't want to deal with. Someone who gets so drunk he puts his own and others people's safety in danger, yet doesn't think he has a problem. Someone who doesn't even know how to take responsibility for anything, or say "I'm sorry". Someone who believes that getting by doing the absolute minimum is acceptable. Someone who has never had to face difficulty because he knows there will always be another person to deal with things when he doesn't. Someone who puts his hands on a woman while drunk, more than once, and still doesn't think that alcohol is a problem. Someone who is content to walk away without a word because he finally got where he wanted to be and now he can do what he wants with no responsibility. Someone who lies to everyone, including himself, so much that I don't think he even knows that the truth is. Someone who refuses to accept criticism of any kind, no matter now qualified the person it is coming from is. Someone who wants to never grow up, never have responsibility, and never know what it truly means to have a partner in life. Someone who is so desperate to please his father (who is arguably one of the most narcissistic, manipulative people I have EVER met) that he will sacrifice anyone else that matters.


Am I perfect? Absolutely not. But the fights I started between us were because I wanted to know I could depend on him, that we were team, that he would always be there to face things WITH me. I wanted to sleep next to my husband at night and see him every day, because I was crazy in love with him. I wanted to know that I mattered to him, and that he considered me in his decisions. I wanted to know that I wasn't giving all of myself to him, and then would end up alone.


Which was exactly what happened. So, my concerns were warranted.


It's not like this is a total shock. I should've known it was coming when he left every time there was an argument. I should've known when he told me "I love flying more than I love you". I should've known when he took a job in another state without consulting me. I should've known when he couldn't even make 15 minutes a day to talk to me. I should've known. And on some level I did - which is why I tried so desperately to hold on to him, thus all the fights.


I am independent, stable, and secure. I don't need him. I can do just fine on my own, and have for a long time. But I was desperately, wholly, completely in love with him. And I needed things from him. Safety, security, affection, time. I wanted to combine every part of my life with his. I sacrificed a lot, and was willing to sacrifice even more to allow him to follow his dreams. I just needed to know he was IN it, that he truly loved me, and that he wasn't going to just leave when he got what he wanted.


But he did. And I'm picking up pieces. I got used. Badly. I know that now.


I still love him with all of my heart. That isn't going to go away any time soon.


But I've also decided that it's time to love myself. To respect myself. To not allow him to break me down and make me feel bad for having needs.


So it hurts, yes. It sucks that he never cared, yes. It sucks that I was blinded by love and got completely used. It sucks that I have to pick up the pieces of my broken heart, yes.


But I will be okay. Because, darling, you didn't break me. You don't have that kind of power.

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Whatever It Takes


Alcohol. Drugs. Sex. Food. Exercise. Religion. Work. Play. Cutting. Music. Therapy. Travel.

 

All things that you can use to numb the pain of a broken heart. I don’t blame anyone for doing any or all of these. Ever.

 

I get it. You just want to escape the awful feeling of drowning in the dark, and whatever it takes to do that is fair game. That’s my life right now.



I will literally do anything to not feel my heart ripping to shreds. I don’t care how destructive or detrimental or consequential it could be. I just need the hurt to stop. Now. 


When Mike left in November, I literally was on a plane to Europe by myself the next day. I immersed myself in another continent, trying to soak up everything that could fill the emptiness he left in my soul. I drank more than I ever have, woke up in places I’ve never seen before, and embraced anything that could give me even a moment of relief. And some of it did. Temporary or not, if I could take one breath without feeling like I was going to die, I considered that a win. I met incredible people and had once in a lifetime experiences. But none of them took the deep ocean of pain away from me for more than a few moments. They did however, give me some hope. That there would be a day that I would be okay again. That if I could survive running around Europe completely by myself, then I could survive a broken heart.


Then I came back home and fought like hell for my marriage. And for a while, it worked. My husband stayed and that agonizing pain left. Until he left. Again.

 

At first, I was so angry it didn’t even hurt. Being mad as hell kept me from feeling much else. But that was pretty short lived. Believe me, I’m still mad. Mad I got used. Mad that I chose to spend my life with someone who thinks that walking out every time he isn’t getting exactly what he wants is ok. Mad that I wasted so much time supporting him and encouraging him and helping him follow his dreams only for him to bail the second he got where he wanted to be. Mad that I gave up a perfectly wonderful single existence to fall completely in love with someone who obviously never felt the same. Mad that my husband is so damaged by his own narcissistic, selfish, controlling “women are meant to be used and thrown away” father that he will never be able to stand on his own two feet. I’m pissed.

 

But my heart is also broken into a thousand pieces. Shattered. In ways I didn’t know were possible because I’ve never loved someone so completely, and committed so entirely to them. I fought for my marriage. I meant it when I said “Every tomorrow I have is yours”. I didn’t just sign up for “until it stops being fun every second”. So I guess the total devastation comes from knowing there is absolutely nothing I can do to fix something that is broken because the other person literally dropped it and walked away. I can’t will it better. I can’t put more effort into it and work it out. I can’t do shit.


He left. The end.



So all I can do is find ways to make it hurt a little less. To make it through every day and every torturous night until I somehow come out on the other side of this and can breathe again. I just have to hang in there for a while, and let my heart start to heal and begin to listen to my head instead. I know I won’t always feel like this. But until it starts to subside, I will continue to do anything and everything it takes to take the edge off. You can judge me for that all you want. I don’t care. Because I didn’t ask for this, I don’t want this. And this is the best I can do for now.