Well hello anxiety my old friend. I would offer you a drink but I don’t really want you to stay. So instead of listening to my crazy thoughts, I thought I would have some fun with them and throw on some Lady Gaga, and see what happens.
So currently, I am out of wine and am used to having a few glasses a night. For the past 5 years. I admit to being an addict. My problem is when I indulge, I over do it. Dance, sex, rocks, all to just forget about being in the real world. Fortunately I have chilled out over the past 3 years.
Being with a destructive, verbally and mentally abusive partner for 7 years really changes a person. You either see it and get out safely with maybe a few hiccups here and there, or you get out the bad way. I had to get out the bad way. He was a demon living in the little heaven I had created. Always slithering around trying to manipulate those around him. Including me. He was attached at my hip at all times. Everywhere I went, he had to go and everywhere he went, I was obligated to go. Every text that came in, he had to know who it was and playfully want to see what it said.
When I started to complain that I was paying all the bills because he wasn’t working, he told me it would all be ok, That he “had something in the works and that he would be working soon.” And I believed him. Every…time. 7 years of, “I’ll be working soon. I’ll kick the drug habit.” Blah Blah Blah. He was an addict. I wasn’t. But here I am 3 years later with an alcohol addiction because A. My FAMILY is an alcoholic,and B. If I didn’t drink with him or his psycho piece of shit sister, I was excluded. They would spend all day drinking and smoking meth, while I worked and took care of the household. No I did not smoke meth with them.
As a matter of fact, reflecting on things, he was never sober the entire 7 years we dated. It started with weed (but everyone smokes that,) alcohol, mescaline, ecstasy, acid, mushrooms, meth, cocaine, and where it all cycled back to, alcohol. The drinking is was out of control for him. He and his sister would fight so hard, doors were broken and fists were flung. I always just stood in the corner in fear. The first time he put his hands on me was during a fight with his sister.
They were screaming at each other at the top of their lungs on the back patio at 2am. I was desperatley trying to get them to go inside before someone called the cops. He was in her face ready to hit her and fooshily stepped in. He did not hit me but he grabbed me and threw me into the wall. Stunned, I didn’t say anything. I just stood there and let him deal with her. The next morning, he was making breakfast and had gone to get flowers. And when he bedded me, it was on his terms. Whether I wanted it or not.
Now imagine that manipulation on repeat every month or so. The final straw was when he decided to move out of state. He chose to leave me and wanted me to give up everything I made for myself. I refused. He left anyway and I felt finally free. I attempted the long distance thing way more than he did. The day he left, was the day I realized what had been happening to me for the past several years.
Party city. I was at the bar all the time with my friends. Getting smashed and singing karaoke. He was getting pissed because I wasn’t answering my phone anymore. Not getting online. Not being in his control. I tried to break up with him while he was away but, he wouldn’t let me. He cried, and cried, and cried some more. I told him I would think about things. Then, I totaled my car.
When my car hit the wall, I just remember thinking I was gonna die. But I didn’t. I woke up and had no idea where anything was. My phone was on the passenger side floor so I grabbed it and dialed 911. My phone died 4 seconds into the call. Next thing I knew, there was a man knocking on my window telling me I needed to get out of the car, NOW. Kind gentleman and a friend pryed the door open and helped me out. They kept screaming my care was leaking fluid everywhere, so I immediately thought of action movies where the cars are exploding. Once I was out of the car, kind gentleman asked me if there was anyone I needed to call, and the only number I could think of was, his.
My dad picked me up from the hospital at 3am. He seemed hurt that I had not called him first. I tried to explain to him at that time, that the only reason I could remember His number was because I felt it had been forced upon me. Dad didn’t say anything. 2 days later, He, drove into town. I didn’t want him there. I was uncomfortable and felt unsafe the enitre week he was here. He always wanted to “talk about our future.” But we had done that so many times and he never held up his end of the bargain. He made me go to the bar 3 days after the accident. Said it would be good for me. No, it wasn’t.
Some good came out of the accident though. The place I had currently been working at gave me a REALLY hard time about taking time off, so I needed a doctors note. My PCP didn’t have anything for 3 weeks, and I had a couple friends working at the old PCP office I had been to years before. I was given an appt the next day. My note was given, I was told there was an opening in the front office, and I put my application in right there. He met everyone I knew there. He did not like Love very much. I got the job.
He went back to his job in another state, and I went back to my old ways once I healed up. The day I met Love was at a The Walking Dead party. Naturally, I was dressed as a zombie. I remember thinking, “this guy could be trouble.”So I flirted a bit with him. Little did I know, he knew the people I knew, and we ended up at Denny’s, sitting across from each other. We talked a bit, and I couldn’t help but be very attracted to him.
My thoughts were on Love for a few days. Then I didn’t see Love for awhile. A couple months later, we ran into each other at free comic book day. I think we were both dressed up. I can’t remember because the only thing I remember from that day was how he looked. Love was dressed as Jorelle from Superman. I have photos from both of those days. Thanks to a good friend who loves to take photos. I got a facebook message that night..
Time for bed. Anxiety is better now. Maybe i’ll finish this story next time I am feeling anxious..
Only In The Darkest of Minds 