anger

Blurred Lines

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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!

D-Day

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I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus the past few weeks for a few reasons, but as I’ve tried to move forward with this subject in a few drafts, I couldn’t get it to piece together! It came to me that the reason being was because I was trying to modify it. I wanted to sugar coat it, I wanted the portrayal of it to be in a ‘decent’ format and a ‘mature’ demeanor. Or, perhaps just skip over the facts leading up to ‘it’, I preferred to just to skip to the aftermath of ‘it’. But the thing is, that wasn’t the truth of the matter – that wasn’t real life then – while it was actually happening. I was wanting to block the rawness and pain that followed it, I wanted to edit the story and downplay the events and emotions. I didn’t want to have to see how clearly the signs were there and ask myself (as I’m sure many others will be thinking while reading it) “what in the f**k were you thinking – it was so obvious?!” But that wouldn’t be the true story and it wouldn’t be my story or perception. So, as nervous as I am to see how this may come from my hands, I see now that it needs too – in the rawness and realness in which it was felt then, despite what it ‘looks or seems’ like. I guess that’s part of writing – the vulnerability of it all, things are always clear from the outside – but this was my truth, from my perception – it’s a part of my story – and maybe I need to allow whatever comes with it, the anger, hatred and blame to be felt as it was then.

I always knew when things were off, I could feel it, his distant demeanor and coldness spoke volumes. He was far easier to read then he realized – it started with the blaming and knit picking of anything he could think of, then drinking more and talking less. He was more irritable, and then the threats would start pouring out, like “what would I do if I didn’t have him, I’d never be able to make it on my own. Or how I’d have to move back in with my parents and he’d take our daughter – he’d start playing things out, trying to plant a seed in my mind that I would be screwed when things went south – knowing the end was in sight. It didn’t take long for me to start asking who it was, which only led to more fights about how I was turning it around on him because I wouldn’t take responsibility for the fact that I was wrong. I would try and leave it be, knowing damn well I’d either break and kick him out or it’d surface – and I’d still kick him out. Either way, he’d never be the one to leave, he always knew he could push me to my breaking point – it worked out well to play the victim – that his girlfriend kicked him out –  but also gave him the free reins he was hoping for. After a month or 2, that got old and security sounded again. So, back he’d come. I’d hold my own for awhile, keeping him at a distance – but he’d find the damnest ways to wiggle himself back in. And, I’d allow it, never fully letting it go though, it just added to my own insecurities, bitterness and unhappiness. “Forgaven but never forgetten” was what I’d always say – but that wasn’t the truth – it couldn’t be – there was too much damage done.

In hindsight, to say I was surprised by the actions and events that followed was assanign – given the people involved, there was nothing surprising at all actually! But, still, I allowed myself to be shell shocked. The straw that broke the camels back, the spade of spades – the ultimate finale was 6 weeks after we were married, when I found out he had been having a 5 month affair with my uncle’s wife. 6 weeks that were anything close to a “honeymoon” status!  That’s right people – a new meaning to ‘Hollywood marriage’ being that we managed to beat Kim Kardashian – we didn’t even make it 75 days! ha 😉

I would be lying if I said she was ‘welcomed’ in the family from the get go. For as young as she was, we knew very well what her past consisted of. The way that her and my uncle met, wasn’t exactly ‘stable’ by any means and everyone was all around nervous to see how this would shake out. Josie hated her, she didn’t hate very many people – but she wasn’t budging on this one! She had done some things to Josie that were far from nice – but we told her she needed to get over it and maybe she’s changed – besides, he’s happy and oh yeah – she was pregnant! So, we all decided we were happy for him – that he had found such happiness and decided to give her a chance. She blended fairly well into the family – but there was still something about her that people always had their guard up. She was a good mom – they both seemed happy together, they were clean and she seemed to do less pathological lying! lol

The spring of ’09 consisted of spending alot of time with her, my uncle and their 2 boys, it worked out great considering they lived a half a mile away and the kids could play! Her and I would go for walks and she’d show up quite frequently just to say ‘hi’ with homemade goodies or suppers. Always calling to ask if we wanted to go have supper somewhere – he’d  generally say no and I’d talk him into it – just like she knew I would. We all had a ton of fun together, having fires, taking the kids on rides, fishing, grill outs – you name it. When they say ‘keep your friends close, your enemies closer’ – she did that perfectly! The more involved they became, the closer we got. I remember him coming home shaking that May, saying that my uncle went after him – saying that ‘he better not come near his wife again’. I was so floored and confused, why would he say that – what was he doing that he’d make that accusation? I remember watching him pace outside, scared shitless – he knew his days were limited. I remember thinking as I looked out the window, “is there something more to this, this is so weird.” When he came back in he said how my uncle was trashed and probably messed up on something again. They planted that seed well to avoid any eyes on them and whether or not that was the case, still didn’t excuse what they were doing. When I asked her about that situation – she said how bad it had been and that she needed to leave, that he was in so deep with booze and probably more that she can’t take it anymore – he’s lost his mind. Then there were things that started matching up, like I’d see him with a beer or people would comment that they seen him out and I’d think ‘oh shit, maybe she isn’t lying’.   I remember having a fleeting thought of ‘did you get him back into it, knowing this was his downfall and you could blame him and bolt?’ I was so embarrassed I even had that thought and dismissed it. She would have him take their kids home to bed and she’d stay and wouldn’t leave, finally I’d be tired and go to bed, again, like they knew I would. The interesting part was, I knew something was off with him – but she was good that I didn’t suspect her until right before things went south. I had a random fleeting thought, but once again dismissed it, because she never wavered – it was quite impressive actually! Blind as a bat I was at first. It came to the point that I made several comments that I wish I had included her in the wedding as I had gotten very close to her. Puke.

About a week or 2 before the wedding we were laying in bed and I said “do you even want to do this – I feel like something is going on and I don’t like it” he hesitated and said “I have something to tell you” – but it wasn’t that. It was something else he knew I’d hate and was hoping that’d be his way out. I said – OK, we can deal with this – I’m not happy about it, but I guess I still feel like you’re not here or into this. From there it went from we can’t back out because people have already done so much for us and there’s so much money invested to he’s just nervous. I gave him the option a few times to back out, I didn’t care what was invested – there’s no point in following through if there’s something more – but he couldn’t bring himself to say it and I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger either. I didn’t want to make an ass out of myself if it was just nerves and besides, I had already postponed the wedding a year, because I was nonfunctional after Josie. So, he reassured me it was just fine.  I had told her I got him Metallica tickets for a wedding gift and was so excited to give them to him because it was his favorite band! When he opened it at rehearsal dinner that Thursday, he barely reacted, I was like “hellooo – it’s fricken Metallica – we’re going to see Metallica!!!” He said – “I know – cool – thanks!” Again – I was thinking what the fuck – that’s it!? Later to realize she had told him. He sat in the bar the night before, I had no idea where he was until my parents said they were both down there. She brought him home late and trashed and I was so pissed!

We got married on D-Day (which I just realized last year HA!) It was blacker then hell with torrential rains from beginning to end that day. Beautiful the day before and the day after – but that day was terrible! She sat in the 1st few rows at the wedding, I can still picture her, I remember the look on her face when she walked in and thinking, that’s an odd reaction. It was one of disbelief and almost like she could vomit – like he’s going through with it, now what. My uncle stayed sober and drove us home that night, we were trashed and she kept saying they should stay for after bar. The rest of us said no, we were shot and her not being happy about it. Unreal what you observe, think and ultimately know without ‘facts’ and yet finding yourself needing something concrete in order to justify it, isn’t it?

Things calmed down for a week or 2 and seemed to be possibly mending. He started pulling back when she would call and ask and I was getting irritated because I wanted to go do stuff, but he kept blaming it on my uncle, how messsed up he was and wasn’t going to forgive him for making that accusation. I began to realize how much I was sleeping days away again and feeling just plain shitty, so without telling him – I went in and got my meds switched, hoping perhaps if I was feeling better, we’d start doing better.

On July 14th, I decided last minute to chop my hair without telling anyone, hoping I’d feel better and he’d like it. When I walked in and said “surprise!” he asked what the fuck I did that for. That’s when I knew there was more, of all the shitty things he had done, he never downgraded me (in an obvious way) for all the weight I put on, he never commented, he never told me I looked like shit, that I should or shouldn’t eat this or that, or that I should be going to the gym with him etc. And for someone that thrived off of his looks and body image – it was kind of surprising he didn’t! But this was on a different level and one of the few lines he had never crossed. I knew he was doing everything in his power to have an out and I wanted to know why. That night, as he put our daughter to bed, I went through his phone. The only thing I saw from her was “when do I get to see you again?” This was my own ‘D-Day’ – one that not only affected me on so many levels and in so many aspects of my life for years to come – but also my entire family as it was more then just me involved. For myself, my uncle, the 3 kids directly involved, my grandparents, my parents, my dad’s business (since he worked for my dad and was one of his lead guys), aside from that, they were very close, the ripple effect it had was beyond one household. After reading that, I felt like I was having the 1st of a few out of body experiences as the anger and emotions started to overcome me. It was a whirlwind, not knowing how I was going to approach this. So, I waited until he came down the stairs and from there shit hit the fan – and it didn’t stop hitting for the fan for a very, very long time!

Apples to oranges

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APPLE TO ORANGES

“Whatever happens to you, belongs to you. Make it yours. Feed it to yourself, even if it feels impossible to swallow. Let it nurture you, because it will. “ – Cheryl Strayed

There were many years I truly believed it was impossible to take any more blows. I was sure that there was no humanly way possible to survive them if I was forced to take another hit. I thought I was the only one that endured that kind of tragedy and pain to the extent I did and within the short amount of time that I did. In the same breath I’d find myself looking around and thinking ‘don’t complain, it can always be worse, you have so much to be grateful for.’ But I was wrong – about most of it.

Maybe by constantly feeling as if I had to bury it, that I wasn’t ‘allowed’ to complain, vent or cry about it – I was only making it worse. Maybe feeling like my circumstances were less then so many others or that I didn’t have the right to feel and think the way I did, only prolonged my healing further. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I had alot of safe havens and wonderfully supportive people in my life (God only knows they listened to me like a broken record of the Titanic song replaying over and oveeeeer!!  Even though I had those outlets I was still always thinking I didn’t have the right to feel bad, sad or mad about certain parts of it. And more importantly I think the focus of those venting sessions were being placed on things and people that, at the time I thought were the issues. Primarily because I couldn’t say what I was actually thinking, or perhaps I just didn’t allow myself to go there mentally. It was as if the only emotion tied to her was sadness and the only one tied to him was anger. I couldn’t be mad at her or sad over him because it wasn’t her fault she felt that way and I couldn’t cry about someone who I was supposed to be happy I was rid of. It’s as if it’s ingrained in us to always remember ‘it could be worse’ or ‘at least you aren’t them!’ So, while I had outlets, I was always playing this game with myself that I needed to quit, needed to get over it, needed to stop thinking or feeling certain things as they arose. So, instead I’d go back to my default emotion and cry or rage depending on which one it pertain too 

There’s this constant comparison in our world that we always need to shut up and just be thankful. While gratitude is important, burning our stories and emotions surrounding them, only further suppresses what is already there. We have every right to endure them in whatever manner we need too in order to work through them. It’s as if we can better justify what’s going on in our life at the time by doing things such as self talk like ‘get over it’ or ‘just be grateful’. Maybe that’s why we endure those relationships for far longer then we ever should’ve allowed, wallow in guilt or pity towards others, staying bound to their ways, or stay in our own hellhole of a prison, induced by depression and self hate for years beyond what was needed. Maybe by just owning it and feeling every terrible aspect of it, we’d be able to move through it faster.

Now, 8 years after her death and 7 post separation, I’ve had to relive every dirty and sickening detail of both. And each time they’ve resurfaced, they’ve come back at a greater intensity because of it. So, maybe you should scream into your pillow when you need too, cry in the middle of the store because you thought for a split second you seen a glimpse of them, laugh because that song that just came on triggered a memory. Maybe there isn’t an answer for everything, maybe we need to feel it for what it is because it’s our story. Maybe the constant comparison is doing nothing but driving us all deeper into a state of hell and oblivion. Maybe instead of thinking we’re entitled to all the material things around us, we should realize we’re entitled to our emotions surrounding our circumstances. Maybe then there’d be less holes in the walls or terrible things said and done, maybe there’d be less depressive states, less cheating, less hate and anger. Maybe if we’d just allow ourselves to act or react at the time that the actual emotion occurs instead of telling ourselves how ridiculous we’ll look crying for no reason, or screaming in our car at a red light is taboo, the only ones we’re hurting is ourselves.

Healing comes from within, and it comes from no one but ourselves. Maybe when we just being a little truer to our emotions as they arise, truer to our journey and hardships as they cross our paths, maybe we can move forward – for real. It’s OK if you feel like your world is falling apart on account of a break-up, or that you won’t survive if you loose your parent to a disease, or that you can’t possibly face another soul in public after an embarrassing charade at the local saloon or that you’ll be a let down if you lose your job. It’s OK because I know what all of them feel like.

 When you look at the grand scheme of things – it’s terrible right then and there, but then again, it was terrible in 9th grade when the opposite sex turned you down. It was terrible when you rolled your car in your driveway (oh wait, maybe I’m the only one that’s ever done that ahahahaaa) It was terrible to get the rejection letter to your college of choice or first pick job. many have been terrible in your life, and at the time, they needed to be and were warranted for their own reasons, but you survived them too. Maybe the trick to surviving has more to do with being OK that things are shit right then, and less to do with comparing our story to the next persons. Maybe while saying our ‘gratefuls’ we can also curse and cry about the things that aren’t so great. Either way, it’s worth a try to allow yourself to feel every corner of grief, of loss, of the unknown, of being scared shitless, of anger, rage hate, fear, sadness and love all at once! (Yep, there are days it happens just like that – one big ball of ‘holy shit – I’m laughing through my tears while punching my pillow! As different and unique as all of our stories are in so many ways, maybe our reactions behind them aren’t as crazy as they may seem, or not to the extent that we feed ourselves anyways.

Continue reading Blind Faith

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Demons Within

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Anger – you dirty SOB. You are the root of so many things and rest in so many of us. You control, blame, hate and cause so much damage on a physical, mental and emotional level. This battle really is within ourselves. Stage 3 – bargaining and anger. I hate to admit it, but they became 2 very good friends of mine!

The funny thing about anger was, I didn’t realize  I hit that emotion until years later. There were very few times I remember being angry at her, and when it did arise, it was always short lived. I was far too consumed by guilt to be angry, after all, I felt as though it was largely my fault that she decided to  leave. The amazing thing about anger that I’ve noticed is, it’s rarely directed at the actual cause or source of where it’s been festering. Instead, it overflows into other aspects of our lives, and that was exactly the case here. For me, it primarily overflowed into my home life and job. It came through in various forms, but it was most blatantly directed at my fiancé at the time. Why you ask? Why not!? I mean, it was his fault I never did half of the things she wanted me too. It was his fault that I said ‘no’ to her every time she asked, it was his fault I felt too guilty to even ask if I could. It was his fault I ever thought I had to ask to begin with, or feared a fight would stem from it. It was his fault he didn’t understand it, at least not to the caliber we felt it anyways (according to me). It was his fault he had 3 siblings and I didn’t. Blame and anger are identical twins. Where you have 1, you’ll likely find the other. The finger that points outwards is never as powerful as the 3 pointing back at you!

I had just started my new job 2 weeks prior to her death, and I’d have to admit that a fair amount of anger was also taken out on the patients, in a non-obvious way. The only thing I could focus on for years after was how our Oncology patients at least got the opportunity to say goodbye. Every time I roomed someone or knew another person was going to hospice, that was my jealous thought towards them. As far as I was concerned, at least they had the chance to get their affairs in order, to say all of the things they wanted too, do the things they wanted, kiss and hug them before putting them in the ground – in fact – they had no idea how fortunate they were! A terrible comparison but it was the truth. It was my thought process, I was so jealous of those that had that ‘one more day’. I hated and resented them for getting the one thing I couldn’t have.  That was my anger. I was pissed this was now my life. And even more, I was pissed that I had to look at myself in the mirror, reminding myself of all I did or didn’t do. I hated myself for the responsibility I felt. But, who else was I going to blame? I had all I could do to just function and attempt to half ask cope, the hell if I could handle taking responsibility for my own actions, therefore I would reside in this god forsaken hell hole of my own pain and suffering. 

It didn’t come through as direct ‘anger’ in the form one would think. I wasn’t throwing shit or screaming and yelling – I just turned cold and bitter and more continuously resentful. My sarcasm in general increased, I internalized more, kept making myself stay buried in the hell that I honestly didn’t think I was going to come out of, or perhaps secretly didn’t want to. As years and other circumstances in my life unfolded, anger became my closest friend. I began to let others dictate and influence me in ways that only drove me deeper. I learned to cope with more self destructive habits, always wanting the temporary escape. It’s funny what a demon anger is, what it controls, how it’s expressed and even more fascinating – is how it’s justified. How we force ourselves to succumb to the depths of it.

Now bargaining – that one I had mastered within a day! I would’ve signed any contract with the devil and there were many lives aside from hers I was willing to exchange! There was next to nothing I wouldn’t give to just at least just be able to apologize. But then again, that’s what everyone says in a time like this, right? Aren’t we all great bargainers? It doesn’t even take something tragic to start signing away our souls. I mean shit, I was making deals with the devil for a pair of Girbaud jeans for Christmas by the age of 10!  Sacrifice my dog for a CD player? Pfff, if that’s all it takes to say I own one – consider it did! Ha 

Why is it that when shit starts hitting the fan is when we decide to hit our knees? Then the real begging, pleading and bargaining begins, and the stakes are high! Ever wonder why we wait until things have hit that point to start looking up? Why do we need these life altering circumstances to force us back into reality? To force us into the here and now, to reevaluate what and who is most important. Only then do we understand another’s pain and truly empathize with their story. Only then do we recall the damage we’ve done onto others and then swear that you’ll never inflict pain on another soul again. Just like we swear off drinking after waking up with a bad hangover. 😉 It’s these times that make us take a look around at what we’ve had sitting right in front of us the entire time? But then again, if we couldn’t be grateful when we had it, what makes us think we deserve to keep it?

Continue reading 4th stage, 4th letter – D.

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