I met him and fell head over heels…so cliche’. Two weeks later, even though I was reluctant, I agreed to go in on buying a trailer home with him. It took a week or so, but before the end of our first month together we owned a home. That is when everything fell apart. I found out at this time that he suffered from depression, anxiety, bi-polar disorder, and others, in my totally non-degree holding opinion, multiple personality disorder. I found this out through a series of events that I would rather not dispose of publicly. I myself battle depression and anxiety, but through years of council I feel like I have them in a manageable state. I could not turn my back on someone because they suffer as I do, and even more than I do.
I stayed, even though he made me cry. I stayed.
Arguments quickly escalated. For the first time in a long time, I was fearful when an argument began. Arguments were inevitable. Communication was breaking down before we had a chance to build it up. Everything crashed. Violence and anger rose.
The day after my birthday, he ripped down the decorations he had hung for me. I cried as I picked up the mess and threw it away. “Why pick it up? I am just going to throw it around again!” He said as he whipped the garbage bag around. I cried harder as I swept the mess. He laughed as he said, “When you cry you sound like you have Down Syndrome.” He had been abandoned by everyone he ever thought cared. I had to stay. Can’t you see? I had to stay.
I stayed, even though my heart had shattered, humiliated. I stayed.
He came home late. I wanted to cuddle. I felt so alone. When we cuddled I felt like we could be okay, like we could survive. He took a shower and promised me my cuddles. He got out of the shower and a friend had text him. The friend had a birthday gift for my kid that he could purchase. He wanted to leave, even though I needed him. I wanted to be selfish. Stay. Please stay. Only to cause a fight. At 3 AM he left. After he left and returned, we fought. He held a pen to his throat. I couldn’t see. My glasses on the table by the couch as I had wanted to sleep there. There was a sound like the pen broke the skin. I called the cops. It was determined that I was crazy. That never happened.
I stayed, even though I was insane, selfish. I stayed.
He had a way with words. Somehow I knew I was in the wrong, always. Admittedly, I went through his personal messages. I sensed something. (I would like to think that my grandma guided me here, but I just knew I had to.) For the last month he was talking to an old “friend.” “I secretly miss you everyday.” “No one could ever replace you. I know that now.” “My Twinflame.” “I miss us.” I was going through hell for this man, and he was giving the words I longed for to another.
I stayed, even though my heart was betrayed. I stayed.
There was a female that had been his friend before me. They “hung out and watched Naruto and she would give me blow jobs.” His words. I was not okay with them hanging out anymore. Every time we fought, he made a public show of it on social media. She reached out, “Message me.” “Talk to me dude.” I told him to just go ahead and talk to the whore. I was over it. Over everything. My heart was done. “Are you that intimidated by me? I never liked you anyway. Don’t get in between my friendship with him. Know your place.” I ignored her and confronted him. “She is just upset. She wants her friend.” I was in the wrong again.
I stayed, even though he stood by someone who wasn’t me. I stayed.
A week later, maybe two as time began to slip away from me, we celebrated my son’s birthday. His kid got an attitude and put him in a mood. When he came home and started in at me I decided I was sleeping on the couch. A ritual I had become accustomed to.
I can be complicated. I am not the easiest person to live with. I have been all but single my whole life. A boyfriend here or there, but single. I am set in my ways and it is going to take an incredible person to tame me. I am not innocent, but I was never cruel. I was loyal, to a fault. I made mistakes. I got upset at typical things, and made to believe I was crazy. It was not normal. It was not okay.
He confused a story of a deceased friend once saying three years ago and once saying four. I asked, “Was it 3 or 4 years?” He snapped. I had disrespected his dead friend. He yelled at me like I was nothing, in front of my son. I told him I would be gone tomorrow. A threat I had made before but I stayed. “I’m happy you’re leaving. I hope your son doesn’t end up like you. I am glad he is leaving and getting away from you.”
I couldn’t forget. I can’t forget. I wish I could help him. I wish I was strong enough to help him.
This time, I left. Even though I was broken, weak, uncontrollably saddened, and defeated. I left.
Writer’s Note: Those that know me, know who I am writing about. Please do not give him any trouble. There has been so much pain with everything already. I am simply writing to start my healing process. He has another truth, I write mine.