There are some parts of this "story" that are harder to write than others, and the next few are going to be the hardest I think. There is so much emotion involved, the decisions I made...that we both made actually caused so much more pain than either of us could have possibly seen.
We were very close to our 6 year mark when it all went to hell. I can't clearly remember the exact wording of the ultimatum he gave me, it has been about 6 years since this happened, but I know that I stopped breathing for a minute. It was basically "this is what's going to happen, or you can just leave". I have selective hearing apparently, and the fact that things had been so hard didn't help, so what I heard was "Just Leave". So, I did. The next day I called some friends. I had become pretty tight with the manager, Matty, and D.J.,Dusten, at the club I worked at, and that's who I called because I literally had no one else. My family was 150 miles away, and I didn't talk to anyone often enough to have a "close" enough friend to help me out. I called these guys at around noon, they both had to work but said they would have me out of there before the EX got home from work. So I packed, and cried, and packed, and cried some more. I think my face was puffy for a week after the whole thing. I was devastated, I truly did love this man, even though I think I had emotionally quit long before this final fight. I was upset over the fact that the dogs would be separated, and that I would be separated from one of my babies. Aries was clearly my boy, and River was clearly his, no matter the emotional attachment either one of us had. Around 11 that night I got the call I had been both waiting for and dreading all day. The owner(we will call him Dan) of the club I worked at was bringing a van and coming to get me.....I broke down. I didn't want to do this, I didn't want to leave this home, and this little family that had been all I had known for the past 5 years and some change. But I felt like I didn't have a choice, so when the van pulled up I steeled myself and did what I thought I had to. I loaded up all of my belongings, and then went back for my pup. It took several minutes to get him out of the house, as his brother didn't understand why I was taking Aries and not him as well, a first for all of us. He stood at the glass door looking for all the world like I had just kicked him, and I guess in a way I had. Tears having already started rolling down my face while loading up my stuff, I began to full on sob. Deep, body-racking sobs. I couldn't stop. I couldn't get it together. I just stood at that glass door, staring at my beautiful boy, bawling and apologizing over and over again. Dan walked over and helped get me and Aries into the car, never saying a word, just allowing me to have my break down in silence. I can't tell you how much it helped that he didn't try to tell me that it was all going to be ok, or some equally generic sentiment. While I realize people mean well, and I do appreciate that they care, hearing that doesn't help because it's not going to be ok. I felt like everything had just blown up and nothing was ever going to be ok again.
I am not very good at being emotional with an audience, so I did my best to calm down. When I couldn't shut the tears down completely I kept my face turned to the window, crying as quietly as possible. There was no music playing, and really the only noise was that of the car and the occasional of me trying to breathe. The breathing was difficult, I really think when you are trying to cry quietly it is that much harder to catch your breathe, I guess it helped to calm me a bit by keeping me so focused on breathing without sobbing. After what seemed like an eternity we pulled up to the house I would at least for a short time be calling home. I was slow to unload. I felt badly for keeping Dan from whatever it was he needed to do, but also knowing that once we were done I would be left alone with my thoughts. Just thinking about it was making me nauseous, and driving me precariously close to losing it again. As if he could hear my thoughts, Matty chose that moment to call. He told me he knew I probably wasn't feeling up to coming out, but if I didn't want to be by myself Dan would drop me at the club. I think maybe Dan called them and let them know I wasn't holding it together very well, but he never said anything about it to me, the man was a saint that night. In hindsight I'm not sure mixing alcohol with my current state of mind was such a good idea but at the time a big, strong drink sounded like the greatest thing on the planet.
So I went, I hung out in the little room that was set up off the main club, and I drank, and yes cried. It wasn't the blown, whole body cry. This was the desolate, what have I done type of cry. The kind where unless you are right on top of the person, you don't even really notice. That was a blessing, I really couldn't have handled all of the concerned looks and questions. I sat in my little corner, and proceeded to get hammered. Every once in a while Matty or Dusten would stop over and hug me or pat my back, with silent support, and quiet we're here for you's. I didn't really hear them, I think I was in shock to be truthful.
After I had drank enough alcohol to get an army drunk, I layed down on the cushy couch I had been sitting on, and passed out. Matty and Dusten woke me after all of the clean-up was done and the money had been counted, time to go home. Mind you I was fairly inebriated by this point, I think everyone was pretty proud of the fact that I hadn't up to then made any kind of scene. That was all about to change. With my emotional state, and the amount of liquor I had been drinking, when Matty said home I fell apart. It all gets fuzzy after that, but I have been told that I just kept saying things like "I will never go home again" and sobbing. How embarrassing, I mean really, I had to work with these people. Ugh....I still shudder when I think about it. Eventually I got it together and we left the club, made it home, I snuggled up with my pup and passed out. When I woke up, not only did I still feel like I had a knife through my heart, but I was hungover to boot. Brilliant....absolutely brilliant.
For the next week I operated on auto-pilot, I went through the motions of life but stayed very distant from it all. I stayed emotionless, only able to function if I kept myself in an emotional cocoon. I didn't understand how he could just let me leave and not call. I had been terrified that when he got home and found me gone he would hunt me down, but that was also what I wanted most in the world. I wanted him to show up at my work and tell me he couldn't be without me, that he wanted me to come home. Naive, I know, it very rarely ever works out that way. I imagine I was just having a hard time accepting that it was over. Monday passed, Tuesday came and went. Wednesday I picked up an extra shift, still not wanting to be alone, it was terrible when the club was slow because all I had to do was sit and stare at the phone. I guess the old adage about the watched pot never boiling is true, because I tell you 6 days of watching that phone did not make it ring. Thursday passed into Friday, and we actually had decent business. I was just headed back up to the bar after dropping a round of drinks when Matty hollered that I had a phone call. My heart literally fell to my stomach, and I began to shake. I was terrified. I thought he was going to scream and yell, and curse me out. I just wasn't sure I could handle that. I slowly walked over to the phone that Matty held out to me, feeling as though I were getting ready to grab hold of a snake that was surely going to bite me. A full minute later I managed to reach out, forcing myself to put the phone to my ear, and croak out a hello. What happened next will be burned in my memory for the rest of my days, I honestly believe that I will relive this phone call on my death bed. He didn't scream, he didn't yell, he cried..........umm wait what the hell just happened.
I listened while he cried into the phone, saying all of the things I had wanted to hear that first night, or even the next day. But why did he have to wait a week?? A week that I had spent torturing myself, putting myself through hell. I had cried myself to sleep every night, and woke up feeling like crap because of it. So by the time I received this phone call I was confused, and yes, a little angry. I am not very good with emotion, my own or other peoples, so I as angry as I was feeling I caved. I told him to come get me, and I went home. How could I not, we had been through so much together. When the relationship was still fairly young, I got pregnant. I was terrified to tell him, I thought for sure this would be the end. It wasn't, he was amazing about it, he said he would stand by me no matter what. Sadly, before either of us had time to get used to the idea of a child, or even figure out how we felt about the whole thing, I lost our child..........it took me 2 days just to type that sentence. Again I thought this would be the end for us, but no he stuck by me, and helped nurse me through the whole ordeal.
So yes, I went home. The only problem was things were awkward and scared. He was everywhere I was all the time. I couldn't even take a bath without him sitting outside the tub, not outside the bathroom, I mean he sat on the floor outside of the tub while I took a bath. I started to feel like I was suffocating, and the tingle of a panic attack started inching it's way up, I needed time. With all of the raw emotion still swirling around, things were very tense. I made it all of 2 days before I finally broke, called my best friend Kurt from Michigan to come get me, and prepared to leave. It was his birthday, and yes I realize that I am about 45 kinds of an asshole for that, but the panic had taken over. I was not operating with a full deck by that point, not to mention I hadn't taken my medicine in well over a week. I take Zoloft for several reasons, one being for my anxiety. Before Kurt got there the Ex and I cried, he got down on one knee and proposed. I told him I needed some time to think, packed what little I had grabbed from Matty's when I had come back, and we left. I had been waiting so long for our relationship to move forward, so long for the confirmation that he really did want to spend his life with me as much as I did with him, but it felt desperate. I didn't want to stay and be engaged because he thought it was the only way to keep me. I wanted it to be a happy thing, not something born from fear and desperation.
So much had happened, and little did I know at the time, it was only the beginning. I went home, to Michigan, to try to piece together all that had just happened. I should have stayed with him, I should have married him, or I should have just stayed gone, but I didn't.......................Stay tuned for Part 3: Transference
I apologize for how lengthy this post became, if you made it through, I would like to say thank you. Thank you for braving this journey into my past with me. It is funny how even though it is my story, it is really telling itself, and taking me in directions I had not thought to speak about here.This part was harder to write than the first, and the next will be harder than this one, but I am finding a strange kind of therapy from writing it down and getting it out. I hope you will join me for my next installment, and I promise to try very hard not to write a novel next time. I hope you have a wonderful weekend!