Reunion, tomorrow.

This week my husband and I texted (by Skype) –  the first interaction we’ve had since his arrest, almost exactly 90 days ago.

It was good to talk to him, just for the familiarity. It was weird to recall how much of his cruel words I look past. For some reason, his abuse has always felt like love to me. Some strange part of me hears his hate and thinks ‘well, look how much he cares’ — I guess because it is negative, but it is still focused attention. (Cue the story of neglected childhood)

We basically have been talking on and off now for a few days. Mostly bad stuff. Mostly him blaming me for the arrest and saying it was planned and that I lied and yada yada.

I am well aware that he is paranoid, and that something goes very wrong in his head that makes his thoughts extremely different from reality. What disease is that? I don’t know. He fits no description. Maybe it’s something to do with his multiple head injuries. I have no idea.

And there comes that old feeling – that I’m the only one who will take take care of him, and I’m the only one who was born to love him. So there, I’m crazy too. hah!

I do feel really different talking to him – like nothing really rattles me anymore. So call me a liar, call me whatever you want – I don’t care. (I told him, actually, that I did not appreciate it, but I didn’t react to it, I just told him…. .)

It’s so weird that after all this, he is still just this steaming pile of…. blame.

So we will sell the house and we will move on, but in his head… it’s like there is no reality creeping in. He will continue to think I am his to abuse.

I married a crazy person. I knew I was doing it. I did it knowingly.

I read a strange thing the other day in the book “the verbally abusive relationship” — that people with a ‘compassionate witness’ to their suffering tend to become artists and empaths… and those who did not have that, become abusers.

He abuses, I feel sorry for him.

Fack. I don’t like that part of me that’s just like “come home, you fucking abusive idiot” and let’s ignore your craziness some more.

And tomorrow we meet at Starbucks to ‘exchange’ our daughter. So gross. I hate all of it. it’s gonna be super weird! At least I’m totally skinny! LOL. (((((The girls understand))))

 

10 ways to make your narcissistic partner really mad

Found this list in my notes today.

#truestory.

10 ways to make J mad enough to curse me out and go drinking:

1. Ask if he’d like a tomato.
2. Make brunch plans
3. Suggest going to a patio instead of grocery shopping
4. As if you can watch something on tv later
5. If you’re stuck in traffic, suggest not going to the destination that’s far and hard to get to.
6. Ask him to let you know when he’s not stuck on the subway anymore.
7. Make cranberry sauce without giving advance notice
8. Offer him a breakfast sandwich more than once
9. Be skeptical about a startup opportunity
10. Ask if he felt bad watching SNL without me.

It wasn’t until I realized my flaws were ‘the flavor of the month’ that I woke up to the reality: I was not perfect, but I was not at fault.

100 Followers, 100 Thank Yous!

Dearest YOU,  Blogger Community…. Thank You For Following! 

I never could have imagined that an anonymous blog could be so cathartic… and healing… and rewarding. It means so much to me! (Like, maybe too much? LOL)

100-likes-badge-wordpress

Fellow bloggers – you are AWESOME!!!! 100 Followers strong and every single follow has brought me more strength and more courage. 

Through you I am able to feel confident, where all my confidence had been lost.

Through you I am connected, where before I was feeling so isolated.

Through you I remember who I am and see the beauty of being-true-to-oneself through reading about who you are.

Through you I believe that a ‘better life’ is possible, if I believe.

Because of you I feel even more able to stand on my own two feet for the first time in my whole entire life. As long as I can be me, and you can be you – nothing can really go wrong.

I started this blog because I was quitting drinking in an effort to save my marriage. I was also going through the process of publishing my book (still am). And to top it all off, I was adjusting to a new life in luxury travel marketing at a pretty swanky organization (still adjusting, it’s a pretty intimidating world! We have yacht sized conference room tables! ).

But a few weeks ago, my life changed massively and permanently, and don’t think I would have been able to escape my situation without this blog in the background, and all of you somehow rooting for me? I have felt secure somehow, in this nest of non-judgemental bloggers who all have their own human struggles!

I have not regretted. I have barely cried. I have barely stopped mind you!! But I know I am moving in the direction of becoming a healthier, saner, more balanced person – and mother – who will be better equipped to give something back to the world for having gone through it.

In honour of you all I am going to start sharing some of the strength I have been gathering… tonight I’ve decided that I’m going to start volunteering at a women’s shelter. Through all of this, I have been aware that having a great job is a MAJOR difference between what happens to me next and what happens to women without financial security. I pledge to share this strength with others…. and help empower more people to say no to suffering, say yes to life…. and become the beautiful people they were born be.

 

Can love die? Can love be reborn?

Father’s Day today. And I got to be the lose-bag who doesn’t speak to her husband or father. Well… I took some chances today. (EDIT: Actually, they are the losebags for their choices. Not me.)

When we got the copy of the recognizance for J’s restraining order, it said that he could see our daughter if arranged through a third party (not what we were told originally). I gave it a lot of thought and decided that Father’s Day with mutual friends was reasonable and not something I wanted to withold by any means. So our mutual friends acted as that third party today, and since they too have a three year old daughter, I was able to drop her off at their house. I brought over the backyard swimming pool and they had a ball all day. When I picked her up this afternoon, I saw him – just his black t-shirt, crouching over to help our daughter with something. But now I’m haunted.

Addiction strikes. I’ve always loved his arms…… just one glimpse and I’m having fantasies of kissing him – the kind of kiss I know we’d have after a separation like this.

I am feeling weak and unholy tonight. There is something you lose in marriage in the way of desire for the other. Something that thinking they’re gone for good sort of brings back. God – how I miss the times… you know? The drunk times, the wild times…… many, many years ago. We were always a hot and cold, high and low, in love and in hate couple. But imagine that for a moment when it was good – we were hot, high, & in love. 

——-

Whatever J and I were leading up to last Friday; a couple, a disintegrating marriage, an un-couple — I think that us is dead. I’m pretty sure the combo of me putting my foot down, a night in jail, the scare of a lifetime, enforced separation, and the involvement of ‘the law’ — has all worked together to put that old marriage in its grave.

Good riddance, I want to say. But of course it’s never that simple. Does still wanting him like this mean something is alive?

I know that my own soul has moved past that person, that life, that relationship. What I need to do is open myself up to the idea that I will attract new things into my life that are a better and healthier fit. <— healthy thought of the day hahah. 

That sucky old me is gone. Feels like I went through a portal that day that I’ll never come back from. I came into my own. I feel different in my skin. Maybe it’s being away from him too.

Also realized what a co-dependant TWOT I’ve been…. never again.

And that version of him I’m sure is gone. I hope it is, anyway.

And that us – dead. Gone in all of it’s rightness and wrongness, beauty and harm.

If there is ever to be a new ‘us’ born, so be it – and it is my hope, in my heart, that our love might be reborn in some other configuration; one of gratitude and grace, acceptance and camaraderie. That’s the dream. Whether it’s possible between two people whose love went way south and way sour – I don’t know. Maybe we’ll be one of those couples that divorces and remarries. (Probably an hour with the son of a bitch would stop my romanticizing in it’s tracks, but hey –  what can I say?)

I miss my man. If not him, then some phantom or ideal which was – is – my husband.

I’m not feeling vindictive or vindicated, just kind of at peace. And mourning for two people who lost their love.

Heartbeats – the saddest, most romantic song of all time. Heard it while getting coffee this morning. Almost lost my shit.

And another that I’m thinking about today…

True Colours – CYNDI LAUPER
More than once, J would look at me with tears in his eyes when this song came on. It was a shared moment between us, this song – his way of saying thanks for seeing through his bullshit. He used to say music understood him better than people.

Who is he? Who am I? Why is love so complicated? I have been ‘finished’ with so many people before, never to turn back – or even care! I guess a part of me believes we can never actually divorce…. as long as our hearts remain tied. FACK.

You with the sad eyes…. don’t be discouraged….

TrueRomance3

My own two feet? Never met ’em. Till now.

It doesn’t really matter who you choose to love and love you, what matters is what you believe love is and isn’t, because you will explore that boundary. Love pushes you there.

Life pushes you there.

Once J and I had set our sights on each other, it was a done deal. We were the most in love, the wildest and craziest truest romance.

We watched True Romance on the plane ride home from our wedding in Mexico. We’re like that, we thought. Meant to be. I had found my Clarence Worley; dangerous, brave and all.

alabama-and-clarence

The first line of my wedding vow? (Don’t barf). I never dreamed I’d meet my perfect prince. But here you are. Standing before me in all your kindness and brilliance and strength…… 

(Did you barf?)

It’s ironic how many people get married without talking to each other about what love means to them, where the boundaries are, and what nurtures them vs. destroys them.

It’s even more ironic how many people get married knowing full well that something feels wrong, smells wrong, or just plain is wrong – but they can’t run, because it’s like a drug.

For me it was, anyway. On our first vacation together I was so HIGH on HIM that I thought he was slipping roofies into my margaritas. I felt so strange that whole trip. He barely noticed. He sort of glossed over me………. when I wasn’t drinking with him or gallivanting with him, I was extraneous. It was always his world, but his world mattered with me in it. That’s how he made me feel anyway. He showed me things and told me things and made me feel things I’d never even dreamed of.

I couldn’t believe that this handsome, six-foot, blue eyed, beautiful man had chosen me. And yes, he was a little ‘off’ in some ways, not everybody’s cup of tea, but I had a shine for him. Ah yes, the soft spot of having met your perfect match… the person who brings just the right lessons to your life.. those really complex parables that childhood has branded you with.

For me, it was the desire for love and protection from an alpha male. (Let’s say it together now… DADDY ISSUES… har har har… yes I know….)

Before J, my ex boyfriend was a very sweet, very neurotic man, we’re still good friends…. he was not the least bit alpha, and not the least bit capable of offering me any sort of ‘protection.’ His approval was nice, his friendship and companionship was very nice, when he wasn’t depressed, but something in me wanted that brute of a man. Indomitable, a force, someone who made me feel whisked off my feet.

Boy did J ever whisk.

When I left my ex for him, it was such a joke of a scene, now that I think about it. I was an idiot. I packed up a suitcase from the house that I owned with my ex and took it on the subway to some random station, and texted J – “Where are you Superman?”

Can I go back and smack myself??? I learned NOTHING from that break up.

I remember praying so hard that he would come and pick me up and my feet would never touch the ground again. We were in love. He was a whirlwind of a good time. We would drink and talk and drink and talk for hours. This was love. This was drunk love.

He never responded to my text that day. I ended up going to my parents with my suitcase. But later that day, I moved in with him.

waynes-world-bike-scene

D’oh! Why’d you go and do something like that Georgey??

I have never been very good at standing on my own two feet. Always flailing from this to that, not really being strong enough to be alone. Until now. Right now it’s all I want. And when all of this blows over, stabilizes, is all said and done……. I am going to publish my book finally, and then a second and a third… until my own two feet are the best gig in town. Imagine that. I must. I must imagine that.

XO,

strong brave new Georgey.

On Being brave, even if alone.

It’s been a long 5 days. Probably the longest of my life. It feels that way when every step is truly going to effect the rest of my life. A few of our close mutual friends have… not been calling, let’s say. Their silence has been challenging. I know that it’s probably not easy – these friends all have daughters – to empathize with my ‘marital struggles’ when they see a man who has lost access to his child. Fair. It’s not an easy pill to swallow.

I spoke to a social worker today who said that with ‘guys like this’ who blame and rage, it truly takes the anguish of being away from their family to take responsibility.

And about me – she said I’m doing good, I’m doing good things for my family, but I need to stop worrying about whether he does this or that. Need to stop being co-dependant and that I should go to Al-Anon. (Funny how the alcohol piece is coming back into play again, as it is still part of the cycle, and a big part of the accepting vs. not accepting behaviour).

I did what I did because enough was enough. And even though the results have been really severe and harsh, I feel like anything short of this would have caused harm to our daughter. She can’t be at the other of end of his tirades, she can’t and she won’t be now – because I have protected her.

*deep breath* It’s what I’ve been trying to do for such a long time. Separate from the marriage, the love, the relationship.

Before the incident I had called my mother-in-law crying my face off, driving in the car, feeling suicidal because I felt I had no choice but to live with his abuse forever. I wanted to die. It blows my mind, but that’s exactly what it feels like being stuck to a psychologically, emotionally abusive man who is the father of your precious child. There is no where to run, no where to hide – and no way to stand up and say stop – well, almost no way.

Today my MIL sent me an email that said ‘to know you is to love you’ and told me I was not a ‘mamma bear’ but a ‘mamma swan’…. with a picture of a swan protecting her baby. Her ongoing faith in me is like medicine for the parts in me that have been cracked and need to heal. She knows me, she knows him, she knows that good could come of this and he had to stop raging.

There’s something about standing on one’s own two feet that is so new and so strange to me. Just standing.

Not running. Not orbitting. Not escaping. Just standing firm and tall.

I feel my own goodness inside, warm and familiar – I have missed it. This relationship was from day 1 an act of furious self-forgetting. I wanted this life he offered me, this new world where the real me was like a small crumb that could be cast aside in favour of a fabulous but faux romantic union. We were the couple to beat…. so in love.

But I’m back. And I’ve missed me. A lot! I kind of like me actually!

I have this strange faith today, growing with every hour – that karma and light and justice might show up for me if I show up for them.

I may walk this path alone, but I am ok. I am so much MORE OKAY now. And doing the right thing feels so damn good, if really, really hard… still so good.

Ok.. enough of this serious. I leave you with the defence I’m planning against all evils coming my way:

(Think it’ll work??)  

Xo,

Georgey