Navigating The Unknown

I tell ya what, hindsight is a real bitch. Im grateful for it just the same. I haven’t spent much time reading my past posts. I think for a while I was still too close to it all. Lately, I have been thinking about the past. Exactly one year ago I packed up my car and drove across the country. A critical and defining moment in my life. I was terrified, I was depressed and I was about to go through hell. 

I think I knew what was coming on that drive. I wanted to take my time and enjoy it. He was driving in his beat up truck in front of me. I have a feeling he was sober. I only think that because he was nasty and miserable each time we stopped. We were going to stay at my moms for two weeks. The closer we got the more the dread crept in.

It rained every day for those first two weeks. He would take the dog to the park and come back drunk. He got sassy with my mom. The lying was worse than ever. We moved into the house. He was mad about the rain. He was mad about the way my dad helped us move in. He was mad and he was drunk. The next two months escalated into rage and anger I’d never seen before. Cruelty toward me that was unmatched. I had no friends, he isolated me from my family. I was his one and only target. 

I just re read my posts from that time period. I wish I could go back in time and hold that girl and tell her how okay it would all be. How everything that felt so impossible then would fall into place. I have a new job. I have a wonderful relationship with my mom. I lost weight. I haven’t solved the worlds problems, but I love waking up in the morning. 

In my life 

there will be far too many thunderstorms

to surround myself with people

My weight is always on my mind. I have been a size 6 and I have been a size 12. When I am happy, I tend to be smaller. When I am anxious or sad, it goes up. I workout, I restrict and sometimes, I obsess. Right now I am in the middle. But last year, I was probably pushing a size 14. In the last 6 months I’ve lost about 20 pounds. 

I’ve slept with my fair share of people. But when it comes to relationships I have only had a few. I’ll take my clothes off without hesitation. It has taken several guys by surprise. How comfortable I am to be naked. They say that most girls they are with are more shy at first. That’s just who I am. Here it is. Take it or leave it. Get turned on or don’t. I can’t change it in this moment. 

What they don’t know is how many times I’ve heard the same thing. You’re beautiful or you’re sexy but I can’t imagine how hot you’d be if you lost X amount of weight. 

I think that’s why some girls are shy about taking off their clothes. It makes them vulnerable. I’m beyond that point though. I’m not vulnerable, I’m numb. Being affectionate, now that makes me feel vulnerable. How I look in the mirror, that changes with the seasons. How I inherently am, that stays. 

Everyone has their own shit, I get that. It’s just a fact that some people have heavier stuff than others. It isn’t a competition. You adjust to what you’re given. You grow, adapt, develop. Sometimes though, that shit shapes you into something. I’ll never forget the first time someone pointed mine out.

It was my boss. I was managing the front desk and she managed operations. She was probably about 8 years older than me. We both had a dark humor and sarcastic way about us. We got drunk one day and wandered around town. We ended up in a candy shop then a liquor store. I was at a point in my life where I was 24 and sad. I drank too much, ate too much, slept too much. I used men to validate me. 

So we were drinking on my front porch and she looked me dead in the eye (something that makes me uncomfortable) and said,”I have them too”. I was confused. We hadn’t been talking about anything that would make that make sense. I asked her what she meant. She told me, I have sad eyes, just like yours. I noticed it from the moment I met you. She told me that sometimes, when we meet people we notice something heavy about them. It’s true. I’ve noticed it in other people. I didn’t think other people noticed it in me.

It makes sense though. Every man I ever dated has told me similar things. I’m hard to read. I overthink. I need to just open up to them more. In the end,  I think people say they want someone with depth. We like to think we can hold the heavy shit other people have been through. We can sit through it and love them for who they are and what they’ve been through. We can relate. The truth is though, most people can’t. The idea of someone dark is romantic, but when someone bright and shiny comes around, she’s the girl you want.

I get it. I have damage that’s as mental as it is physical. How can I ask someone who has never experienced that to sit with me? How can I ask them to choose me over someone with less? I work on my shit. I try to be better. I love like nothing you can imagine. But I’m afraid to reach out and grab someones hand. I’m afraid to say I love you. I don’t know how to look someone in the eye and make them feel like they’re my world. 

I get quiet when I’m angry. In my mind, I’m screaming. I think nasty things. I rarely speak them out though. That anger eats away at me though. The anger is easy. Then I get sad. That’s a whole different beast. I’m sad now. I feel lonely. I think it’s finally hit, I don’t know people here and working from home makes it hard to meet people. Dating, well, I hate dating.

When I think about my life a year ago it gives me goosebumps. The bad kind. The worst kind. Reliving what happened is like watching a scary movie. You can see where it’s going. You know bad things are about to happen. Yet the girl in the movie keeps going. She walks right into hell. That’s what makes the movie good. That’s what makes the movie worth watching. My life isn’t a movie though. Looking back at what happened, my life didn’t even feel like it was worth living.

I have a hard time coming to terms with the fact that any of it happened. That I became a person I couldn’t recognize. I gained weight, I lost friends. I had nothing. I was low. 

The nightmares started when I was young. My little brother would always die and I would see it but not be able to help. I would run but get there too late. I would hear him calling, but I was trapped. I would wake up yelling out or crying. Sometimes I knew I was dreaming but couldn’t make myself wake up. They started when I was 12 or 13 and happened pretty often until college. Then, they just stopped.

Every now and then I would have a nightmare. I would wake up, heart racing or screaming. I couldn’t usually remember them though so it was fine..

They started again. Usually, I am in Colorado. I am in danger or I am stuck there. I am waiting for him and hoping he won’t be drunk. THen he shows up and he is trying to hurt me. They have been awful. It is new though, that I am the one in danger. 

There are things I subconsciously try to forget. Memories that hurt so much, my mind just automatically erases them. There are time though, where something brings it all back. For this memory, it was just a song. At one time we had thought it would be our first dance song. Listening to the words just reminds me of how incredibly broken we were. The fact that I realistically considered marrying him makes the hair on the back of my neck stand. Back to the memory though. It’s a bad one.

It was the night before we left to move east and we were spending it at his parents. I had done everything to get us out of the apartment. I worked from home at my new job while cleaning and packing. He took the day off knowing it would be hard on me. He didn’t help at all. He cleaned the bathroom for 20 minutes and disappeared under the guise that he was going to start packing his truck at his parents. When I got to their house he was buzzed. Did his parents notice? They had to. They didn’t draw attention to it though so I thought maybe I was just being hard on him.

That evening his dad got crab and steaks to make as a big going away dinner. I was meeting my friends at the dog park to say bye to them and their dogs. I hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to anyone since he hadn’t helped pack and was drunk every night that week. I didn’t want him to come but he did. He was pretty sloshed at this point and my friends were quick to say goodbye since I think they all could tell. 

I was upset as we rode home and sad. He picked a fight. When we walked through the door he started screaming at his mom and left. we waited for about an hour as the food got cold. He finally came back. Wasted. He yelled and screamed for about an hour more than finally calmed down. His mom was crying and so I was. He stormed out and his dad followed. His mom looked me in the eye, drunk herself, and asked “are you sure you’re ready for this”. I said no.

I should have told him not come but we had rented our place. We had packed our bags. I didnt know what to do. 

When he came back in with his dad, his dad said he had a surprise. He had learned how to play the song on the guitar and he sang it for us. He said he couldn’t wait to play it at our wedding. It all felt so surreal. I was heartbroken. I knew there wouldn’t be a wedding. After that display, how could he think there would be? I get it though, the unending hope you have for someone you love.

I taught myself how to do most things on my own. My schools labeled me as trouble and didn’t try. My parents weren’t around. I was passed through the system and no one really noticed me. I’m dyslexic. I couldn’t read until third grade. I was memorizing easy books just to get by. So what I learned was, if I wanted to learn- I was on my own.

I watched friends threaten to run away from home. Pack a bag with snacks and a shirt only to come home two hours later. I wasn’t going to make empty threats. I started planning young and at 17, I left. I didn’t look back. I went to college, something my guidance counselor said I wouldn’t do, and got $13,500 in scholarships each year. I spent my summers working internships in the west. No cell phones, no clue. Just learning. I learned the hard way mostly. I failed and I took what I could from it and I grew. 

I graduated college and left for Colorado the next day. I remember sitting alone in an apartment there frustrated because I couldn’t put something together. I bought a $20 toolbox on Amazon (it’s hot pink because that color was $5 cheaper) and I put it together myself. I had to change the locks on my door and couldn’t afford $80 to have it done. I bought a $15 door knob and did it myself. I’ve done it for several friends now too. I taught myself how to do my taxes, how to interview, how to get jobs I am not qualified for. I love to learn because you never know when you will be stuck in life and what knowledge will be needed to get out.

I appreciate the highs because I have felt the endless depth of the lows. I know how dark and how deep I have gotten and even when I thought I was at my bottom, I understood it could get worse. So I ride the high like it is nothing I have ever seen before or will see again. 

I’m in the high now. I have been happy for weeks. I am excited about my future. Nervous, but excited. I went on a date and I didn’t cry, or think about my ex or feel dirty. I am not cheating. I am not a whore. I am rediscovering a life worth living.

It was only four months ago I was on the floor begging a god I didn’t know if I believed in to take me out of this world. Only 16 weeks ago did I think I had no future. No happiness. No escape. I wish I could go back to that sad and scared girl and tell her it would be okay. I wish I could undo the pain I caused myself. I learned though, lord did I learn.

I went on a date and it felt like Cheating. I was cheating on my ex. I was cheating on this new guy. I was cheating on myself. The truth is, I just wasn’t ready. We went to dinner and we spent five hours just talking. He went to kiss me at the end, I pushed him away. What would my ex think if he saw me? He’d call me a whore. An ungrateful slut.

I got in the car and I cried. I miss my friends. I miss Colorado. I miss myself. The guy I went out with wanted to see me again. He was excited, I was hesitant. I told him I am going to be moving in the next few months to be about 1.5 hours away. Ghosted. Just like that. It’s karma really. 

I tend to only write when I am sad. I have been like this my whole life. I get things out and it feels better. If I don’t, I just keep thinking the same things in a loop. Eventually, I like to look back and see if I’ve made progress. I have. Alot of progress. 

We don’t talk much anymore. Still more than we should but not nearly as often. I don’t entertain him when he talks about getting back together and it doesn’t make me sad to say so. I once wished so hard that he would tell me he wanted a better life, to hear him make plans about his future. He tells me now and I just don’t care. His future and mine aren’t connected. 

My therapist says I am going through with withdrawal. It’s hell. She wants me to talk to him less. I had been working on this and we do talk less than we were but she still says it is too much. I have set boundaries but he keeps pushing them. She said when he says he misses me or talks about a future with an “us” I need to shut it down. So yesterday, I did. I haven’t heard from him since and all I want to do is call him. 

I am sad and it is confusing. This is why it is withdrawal. Even though we broke up and he moved back to Colorado, we were still hanging on. Each time we called and the other answered, we gave each other hope. My brain rewired to adjust to not seeing him, to not holding him. It hasn’t adjusted to not having him though. The talking, we are hurting each other. We are holding each other back from moving on. I want to move on, he doesn’t. 

My therapist talked over some of his tendencies with me and it scared me. She described how he probably believes the stories and lies he tells and anyone who questions it is perceived as a threat and therefore could be in danger. It makes me feel uneasy. If I start to shutdown this future he thinks we had, will he come find me? Will he get aggressive toward his parents? I didn’t sleep well last night because I kept thinking about it. 

I think sometimes our expectations can set us up for heartbreak. Have you ever seen an active alcoholic stand up in front of a room and tell you that they were throwing their life away? Tell you about how everyone in their life tried to help them and couldn’t and so they lost anyone whoever cared. They lost everything and everyone, but they continued. Have you ever heard of that or seen it yourself?

Probably not. 

Have you ever heard someone stand up and talk about their “Ah- Ha” moment? The conversation or the time where things were so low that they looked at themselves, I mean really looked at themselves, and decided to clean up. That maybe some people left and in the end, that helped them see what they were missing. That rock bottom that became the solid foundation upon which they built an actual life. Have you ever heard that story?

You probably have.

This is the expectation I had.I had seen it movies. I had seen it in AA. I had heard it at the dinner table. People tell these stories loudly and with pride. How they overcame the odds. Think about that though, because I never did. These are uplifting stories, because odds were that they would fail. The odds were that their rabbit hole was dark and deep. Bottomless. I didn’t consider that some people may not have rock bottom. I didn’t consider the alternative because the stories about the people who don’t come out on top are whispered. They are shameful and they usually end in heartbreak or death. 

My expectation when we were together was that I would say something or do something that woke him up. That he would see something or live through an event that scared him sober. Even when I knew I would leave I thought maybe that would help him turn it around. Losing me, seeing the toll on his parents, losing friends, freedom, a job. Something would have to be the straw that broke the camels back right?

I left Colorado for many reasons. To have a safe place to go. To maybe go somewhere with more career opportunities. To find more affordable housing. One of my big reasons was to leave 9-10 months of winter behind. The snow started in September and most years didn’t end until June. I left because of the snow.

Sometimes, we have a few good days. We talk once in a while but the conversations go well. We end up talking a little bit more. He seems honest and open. He seems like himself. I let myself open up to him just a little bit more. It always ends badly. So why do I do it?

I sent him a text tonight. I typed it out. I deleted it. I waited a few minutes. I rewrote it and sent it anyway. He hadn’t been drunk today. Then a call. The edge is there. I hear it in his voice. I tell him goodnight before he wants thte conversation to be over. I hang up. Then he responds to the text I shouldn’t have sent. One similar to what he has sent me. One where maybe I am opening a door. I made a mistake tonight. 

When I think about my time in Colorado, there are so many memories. I changed as a person there. I went from being a 21 year old party girl to a professional. I was responsible, I had cultivated relationships both professionally and personally. The whole time I was there though, I knew I would leave. I never pictured that I would leave the way I always do. Running away. I thought maybe this time I would be running toward something. Not escaping the life I created.

Moving to the east coast I knew would’t fix any problems he and I had. I had hoped he wouldn’t come with me. Once I knew he was though I had this hope for what we could be. As much as I knew his issues were not a geography issue, I thought maybe a change of scenery, breaking patterns, may help. 

When I think of our home here on the east coast my heart breaks. How we had these plans to explore and discover. The first week when he wasn’t drunk all the time and how we would sit at our kitchen table and talk. All of the could have beens, all of the should have beens. Those kill me. 

Even as I type though, I know the dreams I had for us were all my own. I was making plans and he had no idea. It wasn’t fair. I emotionally left him a long time ago. I talked to my mom about him the other day and she said something like, well it isn’t like you ever considered marrying him. It hurt because I had. I had thought about it all the time. Sometimes I thought about the way it could be and I would get excited. Then I would think about how it actually would be, and I would be filled with dread.  

I hope one day it hurts less to think about that place we had here. We were only there for two months but it felt so much longer. My future is so uncertain right now. I don’t know where I will be next week or next month or next year. It is scary and sad. Sometimes the plans we made come creeping in and I remember the times we would drive around just talking about a life that wasn’t real. I knew it wasn’t real but I wanted to believe it so much.