Posted by sunny10 on May 6, 2005, at 11:13:35
My dearest SO,
I tried to talk to you about the way I have been feeling last night and, as usual, I got emotional, then the topic got switched mid-point, et cetera.
When we first met, I was “afraid of taking our friendship for granted by going on the trip to New Orleans with you” because I didn’t want to give you the wrong idea- I didn’t want a long distance relationship. You told me that I was being silly and that whatever happened, happened. I trusted you. I invited you to stay at my home when none of the family would know you were there. I trusted you. You were living in the mountains and going out with your friends to bars et cetera where I knew you’d be talking to other women. I trusted you. I was telling you all about what the mental health facility had been teaching me about developing higher self-esteem and that creating boundaries was an important step to becoming a stronger person. You told me that you were all for it; you had been in relationships with weak women and you wanted a relationship with a strong woman with a mind of her own. I trusted you.
We explored some of our “issues”, anger, fear, et cetera, even went as far as to do worksheets together. When it came up that one of my fears was that I had been married to an alcoholic and that I was a little nervous about the fact that you drank every night after work, you agreed to stop drinking for a week just to prove to us both that you didn’t have a problem with alcohol. You told me that you had given up drugs months ago and that you knew that you had outgrown that lifestyle and were beginning to become concerned with your overall health and welfare. I trusted you. We were in this thing together.
We moved in together at the house because we were together every night anyway, whether at your mom’s or my apartment with my son. It didn’t make logical sense at the time to spend rent on two places when we were together all of the time and were happy being together all the time. I moved in with you because I trusted you and I trusted in “us”.
Somewhere along the way, you stopped being happy being with me all of the time. You pulled away physically and emotionally, and told me you just needed some space to do your own thing. I heard you when you said you wanted time to listen to music by yourself, to exercise by yourself, to work on your motorcycle by yourself. I knew that you liked your time alone and respected that. I trusted you and I trusted in “us”.
But then, after a “workout”, I found a little ziplock bag of cocaine in the basement. The glint of light off of a CD case up in a rafter where it obviously didn’t belong led me to it. I wasn’t looking for it. I trusted you and found that you had deceived me. We had a fight. You were coming down off of the drug (not in a good place, mentally); I had just found out I was deceived by your “private time” (I wasn’t in a good place, mentally either). You said you never wanted to do it again, but you had told me that before and hurt me, emotionally by going behind my back. I became unsure whether I could trust you if the drug was THAT difficult to stay away from after you said yourself you had no interest in doing coke again.
Then we were out at the pub one night. Some guy was waxing poetic about experiencing all things in life- drugs being one of them. So I told you that I had re-thought my position, and if the drug high was that important to you, I wouldn’t give you a hard time about it, but that I didn’t want it in the house where I had to watch you become someone else (felt like I was cheating on you- you were such a different person while doing them), and that I didn’t want my son to ever walk over to visit and see that in our home. I had thought that I was being reasonable about it, but applied a boundary that protected both me and my son. I was being the strong person that I had promised you I would be. And you said that you didn’t want to do it anymore (after you realized that I wasn’t actually accusing you, as you originally thought when I started the conversation) anyway, so it wasn’t an issue.Then I found another little ziplock bag full of cocaine- your Colorado drivers license was hanging out of your pocket in the laundry basket. It's not even a valid license anymore. When I reached in to find your wallet to put the license back in; boom, another little bag and I knew that you had hidden yourself away in the den ignoring me the night before for a reason. You hadn’t wanted to talk to me or let me see your eyes. You had lied to and deceived me again.
So a little time passes, all the while I am more paranoid as you pull away more and more. No doubt I was acting strangely. You taught me that you lie, hide, and deceive when it comes to cocaine. So every time you went to the basement or the office, I was afraid I was being made a fool of again and I thought that you didn’t care about our relationship anymore because you suddenly didn’t care about your own health and wellbeing anymore. It felt like you were purposely choosing a short life of drugs over a long life with me. I was devastated. That’s where my "accusations from nowhere" came from… They were just bottled up for so long inside me because I really just felt that I couldn’t talk to you about it. Every time that we had talked previously you said that you weren’t going to do it anymore. Whether you were lying to yourself or just lying to me, I don’t know. So I “freaked out again” as you put it. Refrigerators were thrown, a motorcycle was dumped, you told me that “we were over”. But we made it through another fight, because I love you and I believe that you love me.
This may be difficult for you to understand, but my Major Depressive Disorder has a long cycle of about five to seven years. As you know, I had just passed out of one of those cycles when we first met. I am capable of many coherent “non-freakish” years in between. But I’d never had to deal with the heartbreak that is drug addiction before. I was not freaking out because I suffer from depression, I was freaking out because I am in love with an addict. Recreational drug users do not hide, lie, and deceive- that is addictive behavior. I am truly a babe in the dark in this regard.
And then you switched your “chemical du jour” to rum and/or tequila. As the empties started piling up faster and faster, I started getting scared again. I thought, “okay, let’s discuss this further AFTER we get back from New Orleans, ‘cause he’ll probably get so pickled, even HE’LL know that he needs to knock it off.” And when you mentioned that very thought to me right before we left, I was relieved.
I was happy that we had an understanding that I would go back to the hotel early in the evening and that you would go out raging and woman-ogling with your buddy while I was happily snug in my bed, or the Jacuzzi. We discussed it more than a couple times. It worked perfectly well the first evening, then suddenly it was Friday night and every time we agreed to go back to the hotel, you got a second wind and wanted to do “one more thing”, then another “one more thing” and I was stone sober and tired. I just wanted you and you friend to stay out without me- I just wanted you guys to just let me go back to the hotel.
After you verbally attacked me in the street and I grabbed your shirt to try to get you to talk sense with me, I just told you to go back out with friend; I was heading to the hotel. It was a straight line and, frankly, I was so hurt and angry about what you said that I knew no one would come near me- with the look that I knew was on my face!
I was surprised to hear you guys walk into the courtyard five minutes after I had already been there. I was sure you were going back out. I continued straightening out the room; hanging clothes up, folding others in the bottom of the wardrobe. I was sure that you’d just do some drunk yelling and then go back out. I thought that once you left again, I would be able to go to bed and in the morning, the silly argument with one drunk person and one sober person would be a distant memory of silliness.
But, wow, then you started attacking my character. You told me that there was no way in hell you could live with me because I am “just a total freak”. That I “have no friends because you are too much of a freak for anyone to be able to stay friends with”. That even your mother said she knew you wouldn’t want to spend the rest of your life with me because I am a freak. I reacted by telling you that I simply didn’t feel up to watching you ogle other women when you were drunk- that it was demeaning; especially when you would point them out to your friend right in front of me. Like why should your friend care about my feelings, either, when you obviously didn’t. I wasn’t a freak at all, that my feelings were just hurt and that I was tired. And I begged you again to just go back out with your friend if being out was so important. I walked outside to have a cigarette and give you a chance to cool down some, but you followed me out. You said, “what, are you STILL here? Why don’t you get the hell out of here?” So I followed you back in the room to ask you why you couldn’t just go back out with your friend…
And then you told me to get the hell out of the room. You couldn’t stand to look at me. “We are so over” you said. So I did the only thing I could; I started packing my things up. I thought I would ask your friend to switch rooms for the night, still thinking that this would all seem like a stupid argument in the sober light of morning. You started laughing at me and asked me, “where the hell do you think you have to go? You have nowhere to go, you’re just a freak. Get lost.” So I told you that I planned on asking your friend to switch rooms with me and you said, “why the hell would he do THAT? He’s MY friend, not yours, you freak. You don’t have any friends, remember?” But I was packing my bag anyway because I knew that nothing I could say would make any difference; you had already started pushing all of my buttons- I was devastated that you would invoke your mom’s name as thinking I was a freak. You did it to manipulate me; you knew we were very close. So I just shut my mouth and kept packing- doing a horrible job because I was so upset.
And then you came up behind me and put your left arm around my throat and used your right hand to tighten the left arm. I couldn’t breathe. There were little white dots dancing around the edges of my vision and I knew that I was going to pass out soon. I don’t evn know whether you stopped, or whether I elbowed you, or HOW the air got back into my lungs, but suddenly you were telling me to drop the hanger I had just taken a shirt from before I lost my air. You had your fists in the air and told me to drop the weapon and make it a fair fight. My mind was swirling… a fair fight? He’s a six foot two male, and a 180 pounds, approximately… I’m five foot five and 116 pounds… How could that ever be fair. I swung the hanger in a large arc and told you not to come near me. But you did. I hit you with the hanger in your side. I was protecting myself, but I was so shocked with myself for actually hitting you that I hung it back up. My mind was swirling, “how did it come to this?? I was just tired… He had a friend to go back out with…. Why is this happening?” And when I went to the bathroom, still trying to collect my stuff and clean up behind myself, you grabbed me by the front of my shirts in a fist that you brought up to my face and started shaking me. I was so frightened. I was just so frightened. I just had to leave that room as soon as possible.
I’m not sure what gave me the strength to plaster a civil smile on my face and kindly ask your friend if he would switch rooms… shock, I guess. But he just said, “what’s the matter with you, anyway?” And I knew you were right; he was your friend and he wouldn’t have believed me if I told him what happened anyway, so I went to the office. I sat by the pool for a little while. You didn’t come looking for me. My cell phone didn’t ring. You didn’t have one apology to offer; nothing. I became more scared because you apparently WEREN’T sorry. Maybe you were so furious that “your girlfriend made you look bad in front of your friend” that you would kill me. So I moved from the pool area and hid in the hotel’s front dining room on a couch in the corner. I asked the night porter to call me a cab. I got in the cab. I got out of the cab at the closed airport at about 1 am.. Still no phone call from you to apologize or even see if I was safe. I called the airline and paid $110.00 to change my ticket to the earliest flight out. The earliest flight was six hours later. I sat up in the airport's waiting area for the time to pass. I cried, I withdrew into my head and my fear, I cried… over and over I cried while the night cleaning crew watched me. Still no phone call from you. I became convinced that you were hoping that I wasn’t safe- that I was dead in an alley somewhere, and that when you found out I was still alive when you got home, you would come after me and kill me yourself.
I was in shock. I was extremely frightened. I was surprised when I turned my phone back on after I had had to turn it off during the actual morning flight and found a message from your mother of all people. Someone whom I had just recently promised NOT to talk to about any troubles I had with you because I respected the fact that she was your mother.
So when she told me that you had called her “in a panic and worried for my safety” because I “just freaked out, left the hotel” and that you had “no idea where” I was I became convinced that you were setting me up to be “the girl that disappeared without a trace”. A crazy girl who just up and disappeared for no reason- just that I was crazy. Then I was scared AND mad. I had NOT planned on telling her any of this stuff. I had been hoping that you would call and tell me it was all a mistake; that you’d had way too much to drink; that you didn’t even know what happened and that you were truly worried about me. All that time that I had sat in that airport, my love for you was giving you an “out”- that you could say that you were too drunk to even know what were doing and that it would never happen again and should never have happened in the first place; that it was completely unacceptable and you were more sorry than I could ever know…. Blah, blah, blah. But after the phone call from your mom, I was more scared of you. She had ended the conversation by saying that she would pick you up at the airport; that I needed to let her know where she could find a key to let you in to grab some of your stuff and that you would be living with her for a while “until we could figure out what to do”, but that I had to know that she promised to call you back when she heard from me to let you know I was safe. She’s your mom, and besides, I told her that you yourself hadn’t even made any calls to my cellphone to find out if I was safe and that you probably would have not had to worry her if you had even tried to call me. I asked her if she wanted to view my cellphone recent calls/messages for herself. I was very angry and scared. She asked me if I wanted her to come over to chat and I told her I was exhausted and needed some sleep.I went next door and talked to the landlord's mother (she was the only one home) and asked her to have the landlord call me about switching the locks because I was so scared of you. This was after you left that first message on my cellphone (I was sleeping) which only asked for me to call you back to let you know where a key would be. Still no apology, no actual worry in your voice, no nothing. Completely devoid of emotion. That complete lack of emotion had scared me enough to consider switching the locks.
But then your mom came and visited with me on Sunday. Before she left, I gave her your key and she asked where I would be. I just said, "I’ll be around… when I see his truck leave behind you heading towards your house, I’ll come back." And then she said, “But what will you do it he doesn’t leave?” and totally freaked me out. Changing the locks wouldn’t do anything if the person I was afraid of was in the house… so I called the landlord back and said that your mom had changed her mind about taking you back to her house as she had originally told me. There was no point on changing the locks- I needed out of the lease. I was scared to death of your emotionless voice and that you had almost killed me already in that breathless headlock. You’d talked to me before about knowing who to call if you wanted someone to “simply disappear”. With your tone of voice like that and complete lack of remorse, I thought I was going to “simply disappear”.
I was still operating on pure fear, shock, and adrenaline. I got out of the house with all of my clothes, shoes, and toiletries in that state. I got to my brother’s house with my cat and was still in a state of shock. My brother and sister-in-law worked very hard to pull me out of the state I was in. I would get home from work and go sit with the cat in the basement and cry every night. And every day I would get up, go to work, go through the motions, look for a temporary home for kitty (because their basement was dirty and unhealthy. I was scared she would become ill.), and look for a place to move to. Then get home and do the whole thing over for the next twenty-four hours.
I’m sure it was probably my emails to your mother that finally made you understand why I wasn’t returning those cold, business-filled phone calls. The one time I HAD talked to you, you said that what had happened was completely normal and that I had overreacted. I’m not sure it’s possible to over-react to losing your oxygen to the point of beginning to lose consciousness. And every time I heard the voicemails, there was no love in them, no hurting like I was hurting. It made me cry just to listen to them. I thought that we were completely over in your eyes and that you still had it in your mind that everything was all my fault and that nothing unusual had happened- that my fear was entirely in my head. That you didn’t do anything to make me that afraid. I was so happy when you actually called and said that you were sorry; that you knew you had lost control; that I had every right to be that afraid; that you wanted to go to counseling together, and separately, to work on putting ourselves and our relationship back together. That you loved me and were sorry that you hurt me and scared me so badly. That maybe starting over while living apart was the best thing we could do to make an even better, stronger relationship where we would communicate with each other instead of bottling things up inside.I was so happy. It is all exactly what I want. But it is now two weeks since that conversation and nothing is being worked on together at all. I would like to discuss what we each expect of the other. I know that you have asked for some time. I would like to know what time period you have in mind. It is a boundary for both of us. Setting up the rules that we both admitted to not knowing last night. If we decide to speak on the phone twice a week and see each other once a week, so be it. I’ll know what it is you need right now and won’t be plagued with wondering “what’s ok”. And I wouldn’t bother you by “talking too much”- sad to think we could never talk enough before you even moved here…but so be it. You want space, and I’m prepared to give it to you, but with clear communication and understanding on both sides.
We need to set some boundaries about :
-time spent together
-phone calls
-letting each other know what we’re up to during our non-working hours (to re-build trust)
-when we will start individual and couples counselingAnd after last night’s conversation, I felt it behooved me to point out that I have not always distrusted you – it was definitely a learned response and I am just as eager as you for both of us to work on making it go away. It is literally giving me a stomacheache.
I do not take you for granted at all- although for me right now, it is in an unhealthy no-boundary way—I have been letting you call all of the shots and it’s making me confused and unhealthy.
We both know that I do need you to help me learn to trust you again. You have to learn to earn it and I need to learn to see when you’ve earned it. I think if we can create some of those boundaries (or ground rules), we can START to make some headway in that direction.
That’s why I wrote this letter about what happened from start to finish from my point of view- so you understand. (And I would LOVE one from your point of view so that I can understand better where you’re coming from).
And I wrote it to give you some examples of healthy boundaries that should help both of us be less confused.
And I have to confess; honesty being the only name of this game, that the patch is not working. I think I need to be a little less stressed before giving it another go. I have not given up the idea of quitting smoking, but am forced to admit defeat at the moment.
I will try again after we get a chance to discuss some of this and get some ground rules in place so I don’t feel so stressed out and lost.
I love you. You know me; I am way too much of a fraidy-cat to ever give us a second chance after being scared so badly if I didn’t love you. I miss the way we used to be. I miss our walks at the Wissahickon. I miss our evenings out on the deck. I miss Happy Hour at the pub (and that’s in spite of the leg aches from walking back up that hill to our house!) I miss you greeting me with a hug and fake sex in the kitchen as a way of saying “hi, I missed you today while working hard at the job”. I miss the sensitive you and the sweet you and the sweaty you and the funny you.
I wrote everything I wrote here in order for you to see things as I saw them. And that despite all that I wrote, I want more than anything to make things work between us.
If it makes you feel any better, even if you decide we’re not worth the effort to fix, I’ll never have sex with anyone else again. There is no one that I would let get as close to me as you have. And no one could ever replace you.
I truly hope you understand the reason I wrote this…
I love you,
poster:sunny10
thread:494515
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20050419/msgs/494515.html