Wednesday, July 31, 2013

The Depth of Grief

The depth of our grief is really the expression of our love. Tonight, the depth is bottomless...endless... and overpowering. I feel like I'm clinging to the edge of my sanity tonight, and the grief is winning.

Who am I, without these strong women in my life? Who am I, without the man I thought was the love of my life? Who am I, childless and alone? Who am I, music blaring against empty walls in vain effort to fill this space—this gaping, wide open space that echoes back at me, a mirror to my pain?

It’s everywhere—in every breath, every sob, every word—I am a lost child, wandering in a black forest. I have shrunken back down to my four year-old self, unable to guide myself out of this darkness, and so, here I sit—paralyzed with pain, the intensity and depths of which I have never before experienced. I wish I could pull my heart right out of my body, because I think that might hurt less than what I'm feeling right now.

I am lost, afraid, and alone.

This is a perfect time to call on God. Or all of the spirits that I know are constantly around me. Or all of the above. It’s a prime moment to ask for guidance and help, yet God feels so far away.

I know that’s my own ego, getting in the way of my faith…

This grief makes me weak. So, so weak. I can barely lift my arms, let alone my head. My body is just here… existing in a slump, my eyes heavy and sad, my heart firmly rooted in the pit of my stomach, my legs useless extensions, and my will completely defeated.

My story is written all over me.

Perhaps one day, my story will be one that’s uplifting and hopeful, inspiring and full.

But tonight, I find myself wondering why I am still here… 

(No, I am not going to do anything stupid... and yes, I know that everything is temporary, including feelings like what I've express here tonight...)

Friday, July 19, 2013

Things Happen in Threes...

I’m sitting here in my apartment, in my favorite big chair, with my feet up. Most of the time, it’s a comfortable position for me. Most of the time, it’s a place I love to sit. I love my fairly small, slightly cluttered home.

But right now? After what’s gone down this week?

I feel sick to my stomach just being here.

On Wednesday morning, my boyfriend David hopped in the shower. Because he recently loss my trust (again), I’d taken to going through his phone from time to time (usually with his knowledge, because I did it right in front of him).

I had noticed that he’d been leaving his phone in the car or completely out of sight an awful lot lately, and I took the opportunity of him getting into the shower to grab the phone and look through it.

I saw two unread text messages from a phone number with no contact name attached.

They were the only two messages in the thread.

I read them and forwarded them to myself.

Yeah, that’s right, I’m going to share them. Because this sort of behavior deserves to be outed, and why not in public? I’m feeling a tad irrational, anyway… and I have nothing to lose, because I’ve done nothing wrong.
“And I love you which is why I want you to be sure of your decision. I don’t want you to have any regrets.
Just know that if you decide to stay with her, it won’t affect your job. I don’t make scenes.”

I didn’t really say anything as I left. I was incensed and I also needed to leave for work. I figured we would have the confrontation when I got home. I didn’t even want to look at him.

So, I left for work.

I sent this text when I got to work:
It must be so hard to live a lie.
I went on, saying I was surprised at his silence, and eventually I got his reply:
“There is nothing to say. I did not want to hurt you and that is what I did! I am the worst kind of person, and I am ashamed of myself. You are my best friend and I did not want to be such a bastard. I am so sorry!”
That’s the last thing he sent me.

When I got home from work Wednesday evening, I walked into the bedroom and immediately noticed that all of his watches and necklaces were gone.

I stopped in my tracks.

I walked to the second bedroom, where his closet is.

Most of his clothes were gone.

I stepped into the bathroom.

Most of his toiletries were gone.

I felt all breath expel from my lungs. My stomach instantly tied itself in knots.

He’s gone.

Just like that.

All the rest of his stuff—furniture, DVDs, TVs, kids’ stuff, and not to mention all the stuff in storage—he just left it.


Just like he deserted me—the best thing that’s ever happened to him (according to him, unless that, too, was a lie).

A flood of emotions made me woozy and I tried to call him.

No answer.

I left a pretty nasty message.

And then I called back… and left another nasty message.

And then, because I figured he would probably never listen to those messages, I texted him basically the same things I said… mostly expletives and confirming that Kevin Wheeler was right when he called him a pretty nasty name (starting with the letter “P”).

The last thing I sent him:
You have until July 31 to contact me, arrange to pick up your things, and remove them. If your belongings are not out of here by the 31st, I will consider them my property since I will be paying rent on them. The locks will be changed first thing tomorrow.
Honestly, just changing the locks helped me feel better.

I didn’t sleep Wednesday night, not more than a couple of hours, anyway.

And of course, the whole relationship has been flashing through my mind. Things he said or did, or didn’t say or didn’t do, that I should have seen as red flags or warnings or something… and I just didn’t.

I am fairly certain I’ll never hear from him again. He is highly averse to confrontation, and I’ll leave it at that, because that’s the nicest thing I could possibly say right now.

So, not only am I left with all this stuff…

I’m left with all the shattered pieces. The pieces of what I thought our relationship was. The lies. The masterful manipulation. The cheating.

And since we started having a rocky time somewhere in the window of mid or late March, I’m suspecting that’s when the affair began.

And if you remember, my sister was killed by a drunk driver on her way home from work on April 29th.

Also remember, my mom passed away on November 29, 2012.

And so, less than three months after my sister’s passing, I have also lost my relationship of nearly two years.

Yes, we lived together since about April 2012.

Yes, we’d planned to get married. We had even picked out rings.

They say that things happen in threes.

And I believe it.

David had been hiding so much and acting so weird lately that I had already found myself questioning the longevity and viability of our relationship. I found myself asking, “Do I really want this?” Uncertainty had already crept in.

So in some ways, it is a relief that it’s over so quickly.

And I know I’ll never get answers, because even if he suddenly overcame his intense aversion to confrontation, it’s not like he would actually tell me the truth, anyway. A liar who is so mired in the manipulation and lies is not going to suddenly tell the truth.

And so, I have to create my own truth from this situation.

And so, here is my truth:
  • I gave him so much of myself. I gave him my heart—no holds barred. I loved him big, and this will take some time to work through.
  • I believed in him, when no one else did.
  • I believe that he has a good, beautiful, and tender heart.
  • I believe he is terrified of revealing his true self to anyone, but especially to himself.
  • I believe he feels condemned.
  • I believe he is a Master Manipulator. But I also believe he is the most masterful at manipulating himself.
  • I believe he is in a very destructive, downward shame-spiral, and I hope he allows someone healthy to be there when he hits bottom. (It won’t be me.)
  • I taught him what intimacy, trust, love, and vulnerability look like and feel like.
  • I taught him how to speak to his kids like they’re real people, not as if they’re still 4 year-olds.
  • I showed him what it’s like to have a safe place to fall.
  • He was my soft place to fall.
  • He was safe. At least until he changed.
  • He was always tender and loving, except when he was sarcastic and saccharine.
  • Being in his arms was a heaven like nothing else I have experienced.
  • I feel so deeply betrayed… sick-to-my-stomach betrayed.
  • I have been through too much in the last 8 months. Hell—in the last three years…
  • My family loved him. My friends loved him. Even my therapist liked him.
  • I believe he may be a compulsive liar. He conned everyone… my family, my friends, and me. He even conned my therapist—and let me tell you, she isn’t happy about that.
  • I believe he may have cheated on me more than once. (As if an affair lasting 3-4 months isn’t enough.)
  • I believe he may have cheated on every woman he’s ever been with since his first marriage broke apart.
  • I believe he has built a life around lying and carefully crafting lies to always leave himself a way out.
  • I believe he loves his kids, but he makes stupid choices without thinking about them and how it will impact them and his relationship with them.
  • I am angry and hurt at the way this is bound to impact his kids.
  • I am fortunate to still be welcomed in their lives.
  • I adore them so much.
  • I know that I will be all right—better than all right, honestly. I’ll thrive.
  • I believe that he left five of the things he left quite deliberately. I believe it was his way of telling me good-bye, his way of saying what he could not otherwise say.
  • I believe he loved me with all his heart.
  • I believe he still loves me.
  • I believe that his most divine purpose in my life was to help me through the initial crisis phase of losing my mom. He was simply amazing to me during that time. Totally, unwaveringly supportive. That was a precious gift to me, a real and divine gift, and I will forever be grateful for that.
  • I believe that scared him too much, that intimacy scared him too much, and I believe he could not handle it.
  • I believe that after my mom's death, the way I opened up even more really threw him. I think it overwhelmed him, and he didn't know how to handle it.
  • I knew he was sabotaging our relationship. I could feel it happening, and I even asked him about it… I just didn’t know the extent.
  • I love him and I am deeply in love with him. I am dumbfounded, confused, and shocked. 
  • I believe he is a good person. I believe he's actually so much better of a man than what he has ever been able to recognize. He just makes terrible, hurtful choices because he doesn't believe in himself. 
  • I will always love him.
  • Even though I hurt deeply... I know he is hurting, too. 
  • I am worried about him.
  • Even with all of this—the good and the bad—I have received so many gifts. I have received messages of support and love… prayers… positive thoughts… all kinds of good.
  • I am grateful for the support I’ve received.
  • I know I am loved.
  • And I love myself.

My therapist called me yesterday. Exasperated, she said:
“Well, I guess when someone tells you over and over again that you’re too good for him… believe him.”

(I believe him now.)

I hurt.
Oh, how I hurt.

When you’re with a liar, it’s hard to know how much of the whole relationship is a lie. I could drive myself totally crazy with remembering precious, tender moments, and then wondering whether it was real or just an illusion.

And I probably will do some more of that…

But hopefully not tonight. I am really tired, but I have the urge to move some furniture around, too.

I really, really thought he was the love of my life…

I am utterly heartbroken.

And as I mentioned to someone today—I don’t have a whole lot of hope right now.

But I do have faith.

And, I am loved.

And that will get me through…

And besides—I have some super positive things to concentrate on, like my recent trip to Maine, and a bit of good news that a few of you already know of, and the love I have in my life, and at least I didn't marry a liar, and my cats love me, and I have good taste in music, and my dad reminded me of a family joke in the midst of my emotional despair and it made me laugh.

This life is at least not boring, right?!

Now, excuse me while I go cry in my wine…