Blurred lines – a.k.a. The Fog – Part 2. Only this time ‘the fog’ was engrossed with anger instead of sadness. It was an instantaneous switch and one that overflowed into every facet of my life, one that overtook me for years to follow. I remember almost everything verbatim, and yet the days blurred together into weeks, and then months. Expressing how enraged and ultimately, consumed by the hurt I was – seems beyond words. It was hard to express the hurt because that meant I was affected by it, and I didn’t want to be made an ass of anymore then I already had been. Beyond the shock of it came the hate – that’s what drove me more then anything. I never knew the depths of sadness and depression until Josie, and I never knew the depths of hatred and anger until this. The way my blood boils just recalling the details – reminds me of how real it was.
Sarcasm became my defense mechanism, whenever I’d get nervous or he’d ‘back me in a corner’ (not literally) I’d start to laugh because I felt as if I couldn’t defend myself, and sometimes it just seemed so asinine to me that I didn’t have a comeback aside from laughing. That would only fuel the fire to another level. It was a guaranteed damned if I did, damned if I didn’t scenario, no matter what the conflict was.
When he walked down the stairs that night, the only thing I could do without cracking him was using my go-to defense mechanism by asking if she was a good fuck. Then it was defense mode, with the normal comebacks of – what was I talking about, he’s done with me, this is bullshit – blah blah. I asked a few more times with no response before I stormed out of the house, with his phone, no shoes and half dressed! lol I think I was still half in and out of my body at that time, knowing, but not knowing what I was going to do next – ready to totally loose control and yet there was a part of me that kept thinking, be careful – there’s kids involved. I flew into their house about 9:30, she must have had a warning as she was sitting at the top of the stairs – unsure of what to do. From there, we ended up outside, where I asked – well, more like demanded and yelled questions that consisted of non-stop swear words! For whatever I reason, at one point I said ‘you’re pregnant aren’t you?’ She couldn’t give a confident no, and kept saying I needed to talk to him. I told her she was crazy for thinking he’d tell me anything, he was never going to own this or her. And I was right. I knew him like the back of my hand in every aspect and I knew how he was going to play it out. As I left, I was shaking so bad I don’t even remember the drive to my parents. I just remember calling them and not being able to breath because once the tears started, they were unstoppable – until the waves of anger flowed again!
My friend, Emily, had met me at my parents, I needed smokes before the gas station closed, so we went to get some. My mom had said to her before we left ‘don’t let her do anything except get smokes, and come right back here.’ I had no intention of ‘chasing her down’ – but let’s just the say, the stars literally aligned. As we were pulling out of the gas station, she drove by. Poor Emily – I kept screaming at her to catch up to her. Once she pulled over, I went to jump in the passenger side and she started pulling ahead, I was half in and out of the car, door wide open! I vividly remember going to swing with a closed fist and right before I made contact I remember thinking ‘don’t do damage, she’ll call the cops’. It was exactly like that, as if someone said it to me. I opened my fist and started hitting, as I looked up I thought we were going to hit a parked car so I got out, still screaming of course! Emily was pregnant and I remember looking at the terror on her face, like WTF just happened, but I didn’t care, I was just impressed that’s all I did to her! The next morning consisted of me showing up and telling him he had 2 hours to pack everything he owned before a moving crew of my own showed up. Needless to say, he did a pretty good job, on short notice. 😉 I took a week off work and the fun of the legalities had begun!
I found out she was pregnant within a couple of weeks which just added to the damage that I swore couldn’t have gotten any worse, but once again did! Even though there was no denying it, he wouldn’t admit to it, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Where as she had no shame, in fact she thrived off it. The next year or 2 was full of DRAMA, oh my gawd – it never stopped! Those months consisted of assault charges, blackmail threats, another child being born, bar bound nights followed by hungover days, minimal sleep, unable to be in a functional relationship because I didn’t know how, trying to hold my own while being scared sh*tless that his empty threats might not be empty and I’d lose my daughter, nasty things said on both of our parts, anger, tension and hatred. I coped in any way possible, smoking, booze, bashing, hating, counseling, workbooks, a social calendar as full as I could pack it and ultimately running, running from the pain while simultaneously being engulfed by nothing but . The thought of another loss of any kind put me into pure fight or flight mode. The picture in my head is getting beat to a bloody pulp and just as I’d start to get back up, I’d take another blow to the gut, followed by another one to the head and back down I’d go. That’s what it felt like, I felt like I’d make progress and then more stuff would arise. It was as if catching my breath from one kick to the next was literally impossible.
Crazy was an understatement of what those 1st few years consisted of. I became obsessed by it, unable to move beyond it, because I honestly didn’t know how. It drove me insane! I can’t explain what it’s like to know someone hurt you and everyone around you so bad, but the only thing you have is hearsay. Never having any type of answers, closure, apologies or sympathy – consumed me. The racing thoughts haunted me – how it started, when it started, where it happened, how many times it happened, what was true about any of my relationship with him or friendship with her, what would this mean for the kids, what happens from here – how can this be my fucking life?! This blurred fog all over again, trying to navigate through blindly. Hearing the stories and the hearsay and to some degree, actually wanting to know it, because it kept my fire fueled with rage and hate, ensuring he’d stay away and perhaps to some degree, me being able to play the victim this time. Like there – for all the times you made me look like the bad guy, acting like you did no wrong and I ‘wrongly’ accused you – you just tied your own noose and I’m glad people, even your best friends, finally see you for what you truly are. Did it make me a better for thinking and acting like that? No. It provided temporary satisfaction that I needed in order to cope, in order to literally make it one day at a time – because I was so scared – scared of him, scared of what was to come, scared that this nightmare, on top of the last one that I barely recouped from – was never going to end – or even worse – it’d repeat itself.
This seriously sounds like a ghetto ass Jerry Springer brawl – I’m well aware that this entire situation does – in fact we joke that we missed out on making bank by not going on the show! 😉 pahaaaa
With toxicity comes more toxins – they fuel each other after awhile. There are certain points, despite if there was a ‘final deciding factor’ that you can’t turn back, sometimes the only way to free yourself and each other from a tarnished relationship is to simply let go. And realistically, it doesn’t matter how we got there, or who did what – we were there long before this and we held on long after we should have, causing damage not only to ourselves and each other, but also our daughter. Either way, it needed to end – and this was the shit show of fireworks that guaranteed that!