This is Why I'm Single

 I haven't dated in over two years. I'm not really sure when I would even find the time these days. They say that you make time for what's important, and I guess it's just no longer important to me. 

If I'm being honest though my apathy started before I even became pregnant. I found myself going on dates only because I felt that my window for having children was closing. I was so frustrated by the whole thing at that time that I was having conversations with friends about adopting. I was discussing with my therapist about the notion of getting knocked-up from a one-night stand or marrying someone I didn't really love since 50% of divorces failed anyway. 

So I basically saw my pregnancy as a rescue. It felt like I was taking my life back into my own hands. I had been sitting around waiting for something that felt entirely out of my hands. I found myself competing with younger women and caring way too much about what men thought about my life and my looks. It was miserable. 

Granted, I was still incredibly freaked out when I learned the news. My baby's father is a complete useless abuser that is a terrible excuse for a human being, but he's mostly just a glorified babysitter at this point. Life is all about tradeoffs, and I'm still sure that my only other option was to have no children at all. 

Of course, I had no idea what the future was to hold at that point. 2 cross country moves while pregnant. Fleeing with my newborn to a safe house. Fighting child services for my infant, losing my sister, and essentially becoming a single mother of two within 3 months of giving birth. 

It's really hard to look back on the nonstop trauma of the past two years. It's really hard to feel so alone in all of it. I think about how much nicer it would have been to have a supportive significant other, a shoulder to cry on through it all.

But I've come to understand that the idea of that person is a mirage. That person just doesn't exist. Not for me anyway. And that's mostly why I decided to give up on dating. Every man I've ever loved, or even respected, has turned out to be a total mirage. Behind the facade is always lies. 

Life truly is about tradeoffs, and I've made the decision to trade the lies for peace. I can't imagine worrying about a relationship in addition to everything else going on in my life. I can't imagine worrying about what lies I'm being told, who he's cheating with, what porn he's watching, what scheme he's hatching, or how he's about to screw me over. 

I'm busy cooking and cleaning and driving my kids all over creation to doctor's appointments and play dates and school functions, remembering to give them their daily medications, laundry, meal planning, Amazon lists, therapies, naps, teething all while juggling my own full time job and managing a rental property and dealing with District Attorney's from my ex's many domestic violence charges, handling my sister's estate and my niece's complex medical issues. 

I just couldn't imagine having to manage a man either. It's a good thing I'm not desperate. I'm apathetic instead. 

I just decided...I've given dating over 20 years of my life. I've given it so much energy and money only to come up short every time. I've never met a man worth keeping around. Even if it was hard to let go in the moment, it was the best thing for my life. Regardless of the men, it's more about giving myself back the control.

These men like to run their mouths about how women are gold diggers, but are also too independent. They say they want a woman who doesn't sleep around but also can give a blow job like a porn star. They don't want to spend any money, but also don't want you to have any money of your own because that would make them feel like less of a man. You get the idea. I have tried to turn myself into everything they want and have found myself in a proverbial Cirque de Soliel trying to be what they want, but also seem to come up short. 

Instead of continuing on like that, I just have to accept that I won't have that kind of love in my life. Because the other option is frankly too exhausting at my age. 

Chasing after love has caused me to fall behind. Years ago, I gave up my retirement fund to a previous relationship. I gave the money because I thought the man would eventually be my husband. And that's what a wife should do right? So now, I don't really care what a man thinks about my financial position (which has bounced back beautifully, thank you very much). Because I'm the one that has to take care of me. 

Finding a man, and a man in good financial standing at that, is not a given. But it is a given that I will have to continue to pay my bills and put food on the table for me and my family. Even after I'm dead, whenever that may be, I'm going to have to provide for my family and pay my bills. These are all recent lessons I have had to learn the hard way. 

I know there are plenty of my ex boyfriends and even former friends who are feeling satisfied up on their high horse reading this. I unfortunately had friends who encouraged me to stay in bad relationships and I cared too much about what they thought. My abusive ex likes to tell me that I'm going to be alone forever because his abuse is all my fault. 

The good thing is that finding a man to marry is no longer my measure of happiness. In fact I have found more happiness in eliminating that possibility from my life. My friends used to talk about how I would act so different when I was in a relationship.  I think I always felt like I was compromising. I always felt like I was trying to convince the guy to be a good person...like I was using him as a reflection of myself. If I'm being honest, I never felt like he was good enough for me and no one else could see it. all they saw was his facade. 

Even though I've had a really rough couple of years, I'm happier than I've ever been. I have more purpose and direction. I laugh more and smile more. My children bring out the silly side of me. They bring out things in me that I never knew were there. 

Instead of taking selfies and photos of the dog, my phone is filled with photos of the baby learning to walk, and my niece showing me her new silly dance move. Instead of Friday nights spent dating, my Friday nights consist of pizza and playing board games. If I do have free time, it's spent sleeping. 

These are normal parent things, but my point is that that's what I'm supposed to be doing at my age. I'm not supposed to be going out to bars to get hit on, begging for someone to notice me. I'm not supposed to be getting wasted to get lose enough to kiss someone at the end of the night. 

I lived that life. I did all of that before I had kids. I danced. I partied. I kissed. I was noticed and seen and heard. I am happy with the life I lived prior to kids. I traveled the world. I experienced a lot of fun things. I'm so glad I got to do all of that before I had kids. But I don't feel the need to keep doing it. That is no longer my measure of happiness. That is not what lasts. 

So I've closed the door on dating. It didn't pan out in the way I've expected. But I accept it and am choosing to forge a new path. That doesn't mean that my life has any less love than anyone else's. As I've written about before, I've discovered that love exists in so many different forms. I'm still clinging to love, but it's the love I've created. I'm no longer chasing after love and begging someone for it. 

I'm not sure if the purpose of this is to wrap this "blog" up. It's been almost 12 years. But I suppose, this is truly why I'm single. 

What a life

I'm so glad it happened. I don't need to stay in that past place of my life. I'm just glad it happened. I got to be as wild and free as I wanted. I got to do the fun and adventurous and dangerous things so many don't. I got to live it. The ups and downs and highs and lows. I've done it. I'm lucky I got to be the beautiful smart soulful girl chasing the wind. I'm lucky I got to live and climb and smell and taste my way to through best and highest places. I've gotten to spend a million dollars and see the inside of a jail...in multiple countries. 

The best part is that that I got to become better than I was. Every year I got better as a human. I learned to love more and to live more presently and respond more vulnerably than I did years before. I'm more honest because I've experienced more dishonesty. I'm more compassionate because of the compassion I've been shown. I also take less shit than I did before because I've been given so much and passed around just as much. 

What a life. I'm so grateful for my life. This person. This body. This mind. This climb.

Jesus loves me. Everyone else thinks I'm an asshole.

Just when I was finally ready to move on from my narcissistic abusive boyfriend....it was a mountain of 2.5 years...yes, not 5 months or even a year...2.5 years growing and gaining the strength to walk away. I finally did. It felt so good....like I could breath...which is miraculous because I used to say that when I was away from him it felt like I was holding my breath. I would get his call or text, and it felt like I could breathe again. I finally realized that I was actually suffocating. He put his hands around my throat one too many times, I guess.

But after 2.5 years I walked away. I was forging a new path forward.

Until just days ago I found out that I'm pregnant. It's his. I have been deeply desiring children for so long, but not this way. Not in the most imperfect way possible.

I needed to know so desperately that right after buying the test I went to my car and peed in a cup. As soon as the test revealed my future, I broke down. Pregnant. So many emotions. It was true bewilderment. 

More than anything I was wishing that I had a mother to call. I wished that I had a mother to call and be excited. I wish I had a mother to call to tell me what to do next. Instead I was alone Googling all of my questions. 

Instead of feeling excitement, I feel alone. I thought I was alone before but I am more alone than I have ever been. I don't even have enough people for a baby shower to take place. 

I called my therapist. She didn't answer. Texted me later and said she was with her family out of town. I told her the news, and she texted, "Do you want me to call you later?" As many times as she has reminded me that she's a resource for me outside of the office, she's just not. I'm her job. That's it. That's ok. I understand. 

Just like I understood when my friends said they were too busy to celebrate my graduation. And like how I understood when my brother said he couldn't be there because he didn't want to wear a mask. Or how my sister can't be there for me because she's hopped up on pain pills and in pain all of the time. 

Or how my friend can't visit me because she spent all of her money. But her stripper co-worker says she should make some money by stripping. 

I grabbed dinner with a friend last night. I told him my news. Eventually our conversation led to him saying that though I profess to be a Christian I don't live like it. He's an atheist.

Earlier that evening I saw an instagram post of girlfriends who were out celebrating another birthday without me. I had not heard from them in months except when they made excuses to not attend my graduation but grabbed drinks together that same night. I sent a text to one of them, "I'm getting the impression that you guys don't want to be friends with me anymore." I have not heard back, but the message was loud and clear. 

My friend at dinner told me that maybe I should look inside as to why I don't have friends. As if YEARS of therapy paid out of pocket and numerous books and prayers, oh and that one ayahuasca retreat didn't bring me enough soul searching. Thanks for the advice. 

Then there is the shame I'm going to receive from Christians for having a baby outside of marriage without considering that I'm 36 and not in a relationship. If I don't have a child now, my chances are getting pretty slim. But hey, I should have just prayed about it right?  

I keep replaying the words of a friend from my early 20s who got married at 21 and went on to have 5 (or 6) kids. I got pregnant at the same time she was newly engaged. She told me that I was jealous of her, and Gd was blessing her with a marriage because she followed the Lrd and I didn't. I ended up having an abortion. 

And I think about specific friends who were completely unforgiving and showed no empathy when I got myself in this abusive relationship. I hid the relationship out of embarrassment.

So now this little baby is going to expose all of my sinful living and this abusive relationship that I've lied about and kept going back to like an opiate. 

No one will stop to consider just how completely alone I am. They will just cast their judgement and opinions and move on with their lives. They won't consider the shame they have put on me. They won't consider that it will pass onto an innocent little baby that I deeply desire. 

I won't have a baby shower. I'll spend 9 months trying to hide from everyone instead of it being a special time in my life and being proud of the life growing inside of me. I'll be in the delivery room alone because there is no one to be there. And I'm not sure anyone other than an Uber driver will take me home from the hospital. Not sure how that will work with a car seat. I won't have a partner to help me when I'm healing. I won't have someone else to change diapers and get up in the middle of night so I can sleep. I won't have anyone to celebrate the first birthday or take the photos or rub my feet. 

I suppose that will be my "just deserts" for living in sin and fucking an abuser. That's what I get for walking away from parents who were abusive and made my life miserable. That's what I get for walking away from friendships that did not serve me. That's what I get for cheating on my previous boyfriends even though no one ever stopped to ask me if I was happy. They just told me I SHOULD be happy. That's what I get for not being happy.

That's what I get. I hope you are enjoying my sadness. Because what did you expect me to do with your judgement? Did you think I didn't notice? Did you think I didn't hear it or feel it? 

I can only say that I've been alone for a long time now. Even with you in my life, I'm alone. You don't call or text me to ask me how I'm doing. You aren't a shoulder to cry on. Hell, when was the last time we even spoke? 

The few that I have called to cry have made me feel foolish. You took my vulnerability and mocked it.(and you wonder why I stayed in an abusive relationship) I'm sorry I can't recite all of the mainstream feminist bullshit mantras about being strong and "empowered" to make myself feel better. I'm tired of looking at myself and knit-picking myself to death in order to figure out why I'm not good enough to be loved and respected and cared for. I'm tired of being in one-sided relationships with people....giving and giving and giving...only to be alone when I need it most. 

I know in a few years when my baby is born and everyone who just used me for a good time has left my life, I'll find a way to hold my head high again. Until then, Jesus loves me. 

Scar

You just fuck with me. and fuck with me. and fuck with me. and come up with new ways to fuck with me. and fuck with me. like a fucking scab you pick at me. pick. pick. pick. And now I'm a fucking scar. because of you. and all of your fucking and picking. 

Math

That moment when you realize that you weren't in a 2 and a half year relationship. It was really a 5 month relationship and a 2-year break up.

This is why I'm single. Again. Still. 

Moving Forward

I did a thing today. A big thing. I'm admittedly emotional about it.

You see when the new year came, I knew it was time to get into therapy. Therapy gave me the courage to end my relationship and take a long hard look at myself. I read over some of my blog posts from the last couple of years. It was evident that I was carrying some deep anger. All of my blog posts from the last couple of years have had a negative, even vindictive tinge to them. 

Additionally, my behavior in real life had gotten out of control. I purposely hit other cars with my own to "teach them a lesson". I punched a previous boyfriend in the nose. I put holes in walls from throwing things, and have even been charged with "criminal mischief" (undeservedly) from an act of anger. I knew I was out of control and needed help.

My anger was like a plague. Anytime I would think about what I was angry about it would feel like big angry waves crashing all around me. It felt uncontrollable like the violent energy of the sea. I was genuinely scared that the anger would never end, and would eventually consume me. The truth was that I was already consumed.

Therapy taught me that anger is always the secondary emotion. My true primary emotion was deep deep sadness. And I had been carrying this sadness and pain for so so long. I used the anger to keep me safe from any perceived threats. But now, the anger was no longer serving me. It was just creating more and more pain. 

I wasn't operating as an adult woman. I was just a hurt little girl. I had to grow up and move forward. In my mind's eye I turned to that hurt little girl and said "I have to go now, and you can't come with me. I have to go be someone different, and can't carry you and the baggage anymore." It didn't even matter what the pain was about or who that little girl was, they had become dead weight.

I took the time to sit with the sadness, but I also knew I had to say goodbye to my old friend. The relationship I had with that hurt little girl, though it had protected me many times, had turned toxic. There was no way to keep her and move forward too.

It was from that place that I began to take steps forward. Other pieces began to fall easily into place. Never had I understood the notion of respect. I could not wrap my brain around what it meant or what it looked like. That also meant I didn't understand disrespect either. One day, I read a definition of it in a book, and it immediately made perfect sense as though I had heard the concept for the first time. 

I began to look at many relationships and events that were happening in my life and began to say of it all, "That's disrespect. That's disrespect, and that's disrespect too!"

I began to explore the idea of setting boundaries. That meant following through with those boundaries and creating consequences of violating those boundaries. It also meant setting boundaries for myself. I'm still working on that.

Most importantly, I began to listen to my body. It told me everything I needed to know about what emotions I was feeling. Because the only emotion that truly seemed familiar to me was anger. But as I listened to my body, I became less reactive to the anger and more accepting of all the other emotions I never allowed myself to acknowledge previously.

So as I sat with my therapist and recounted the date I had the previous night, and a light turned on for me. The guy was nice enough. He was not an Alpha Male type, and I could tell he did not have many dates. He was laid back, and seemed genuinely interested in me. 

We met at the park initially. He brought pizza, and I brought wine and a blanket. We sat and talked and enjoyed the Caprese salad on our pizza crusts as the sun went down. 

Eventually, sunset turned to night, and we were still talking while I sat there shivering. He asked me if I wanted to go to his apartment to keep talking. 

While at the park he had already begun to make physical advances. He put his arms around me when I was cold. It felt like a sweet gesture and a promise of what was to come.

Once at his apartment, we put on some music and continued to talk. Somewhere along the way I think he had too much to drink. I had only a couple of glasses of wine while he switched to whiskey once we were back at his place. He began slurring his words, but still seemed coherent.

We had been at his place for about 15 minutes and were chattering away. I was sitting on the sofa, and he was standing in the doorway of his bedroom when I heard a familiar noise. I have significant hearing loss and have hearing aids that I did not have on so I wasn't entirely certain what I heard. So I kept talking.

Then I heard it again. The guy apologized under his breath and then went to the bathroom. I could not believe it. He was farting right in front of me! They were long farts. He was not trying to hide it either. He was just letting them rip. Though I said nothing, I was pretty disgusted. This was a cardinal sin I was not so sure I could excuse.

However, I have my manners, and they told me to ignore the whole thing. He came back to the sofa and kissed me. I did not mind and kissed him back. His kisses became more aggressive to indicate that he was looking for more of a makeout scenario. I kept thinking "But this is a first date". I don't even kiss on a first date! As I tried to politely slow him down and re-direct him back to conversing, he would eventually always come back to kissing. I looked at him a couple of times during the exchange, and he had a look of rejection across his face. Maybe it was the picture he painted in my head of his mother with her lack of care and abandonment of him, but I knew the rejection was not about me. The rejection ran deep, and he was visibly wrestling with it. It was painted all across his face. 

Then he managed to roll around on top of me and ask if he could "go down" on me. So I said, "No. It's a first date!" I kept saying it in a light-hearted way so as to convey my lack of judgement for his request but also try to give him some context. He asked again and even tried to pull my pants down. I said no multiple times before he stopped. 

Eventually, I told him that it was late, and I should leave. He kept trying to get me to stay another hour. When I refused, he tried to bargain and ask for half an hour. I had to tell him no multiple times. I felt like I had to pry myself out of his hands. It didn't feel domineering, but more desperate than anything.

The next day I recounted my date to my therapist. Strangely, none of what I told her seemed to bother me. This all seemed pretty normal to me...except the farting. The guy liked me so of course he wanted me to stay, and of course he wanted to be physical with me! He's a guy!

Her response caught me off guard. She mimicked my body language I used when telling her the story. She recited my very words back to me. This was a man who did not respect my requests. This was a man who did not respect my boundaries. This was a man I felt it was my job to tip toe around to make sure he didn't feel rejected. Why were my desires and my boundaries less important than his? They might have been less important to him, but more importantly I saw that they were less important to me. I put his desires ahead of my own because subconsciously I thought they were more important than my own. 

Whoa. How many times have I done that? And what implications did that have in my life? Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. 

I proceeded to defend him to my therapist. He was a nice guy. He didn't seem like an abusive type. He was just drunk. But she asked me why all of that even mattered? He didn't listen to my request, and my biggest issue that causes me pain is not feeling seen or heard. This guy did just that! He didn't see or hear me! So what does it matter that he's a nice guy? 

Over the next few days I thought about what she said. I knew I had a decision to make. Not about whether or not I would see him again. It was about whether or not I was going to move forward. Was I going to keep making excuses for people who disregarded me? Was I going to keep putting others' desires and opinions before my own? Was his satisfaction more important than mine? Was his voice the one that mattered? Shouldn't my opinion matter most to myself? 

A choice had to be made. I texted him and told him that his behavior bothered me so I couldn't see him again. Truly, he was a nice guy. But this was about something so much bigger than him. This was about taking a step towards becoming the woman I want to be. And in order to become that woman, I have to do it differently. I have to make decisions that I respect. And that is way more important than being liked, or having a boyfriend, or making decisions that others respect. 

I haven't figured it all out, but I'm on my way. I've made the decision to move forward, and that really is the most important thing. I'm not angry about it. I don't judge the guy. I actually believe him to be a nice person who has his own issues like we all do. 

I'm on a journey to find myself though, without the pain and baggage. I'm hoping to find empowerment. I'm hoping to feel more in control of my destiny than ever before. I'm hoping to dream of new things other than being loved by others. 

I'm hoping. I'm dreaming. 

They say it's not about the destination but the journey. The journey is beautiful, but the destination is myself in it's truest form. I won't stop reaching for her. I won't stop dreaming of her. Because that's where the sunshine is. 

Abuse

Most of you don't know. Some of you know some of it, and others know more. No one knows it all because that is what abuse does. It isolates. It hides truth.

I can't hide anymore. 

For the last 5 months I have been in an abusive relationship. 

I know that I have posted photos of fun adventures, lots of smiles, and a handsome man to boot. But I have spent the last 5 months being manipulated and degraded and gaslighted and abused.

Many of you are probably wondering why I posted the happy photos then. Well, I'm 33 with no strong family ties, no close friends, no children, and a slew of failed relationships. At my age it's easy to feel like your relationship status puts you into a caste system of sorts. Single. Married. Divorced. Etc. We all have our own judgments about the types of people who fall into each category. That's a blog post for another time.

At 33 you start to wonder if you'll ever find someone with whom to make a family and spend your life. Your standards start to dip. You no longer require too much. You just simply want to be loved, and seen and heard. 

In case you're wondering, these are really hard words to write. It's hard because I've heard from so many people things like, "Once you stop looking, they will find you" or "It's better to be single than to be with the wrong person" or "It will happen for you one day". To those of you thinking those things or any variation thereof, I say, shut the fuck up, please.

I made my life look great on social media because I want people to believe that about me. I don't want people to see my loneliness, my fear, my grief, my frustration. Because those feel like an endless ocean of dark water that if I step in, will consume me and from which I will never return. 

And if we're being honest, no one wants "Negative Nancy". That's what some friends used to call me. No one wants the neediness and the anger that doesn't end. No one wants that person across their news feed. As my this ex would say, no one wants me to be my actual self.

So when a handsome man comes along and sweeps you off of your feet you want so badly to believe it. You convince yourself that if you just give a little more and try a little harder it can really work. You tell yourself that relationships take work. You have to learn to communicate with another individual and if you can just figure that out, you'll have a successful relationship and be happy. I set out to do everything differently than I had in the past. I was fully committed to learning this person so I could be a great girlfriend.

And then there was the first time the name-calling started. We had been out with friends and had a late night in the city. We had been drinking, and I was having difficulty finding us an Uber home. I walked up the block to see if I could locate an Uber, and I realized he had walked off in his own direction without me. Immediately, when I called him to let him know I was on a street corner in the early hours of morning by myself he began to say things. "You're so stupid" "Fuck you" etc. 

I became angry and probably said a couple of things similarly back to him. I finally found an Uber and made my way back to my house. I told him to pick up his stuff, and we were over. Once he got to my house he continued in person calling me names like "slut, cunt, bitch", etc.

I was stunned. I could not believe this person who had been amazing and magical and said such flattering things to me for the first month could turn into a monster so quickly. What had I done so badly to piss him off?

But the next day as I started to miss him, I began to make excuses....We had been drinking...I said mean things too... I walked away from him too...Maybe it was an off night...I get angry when I drink sometimes too...

He was certain I would never talk to him again after that, but I wanted to give him another chance. We all deserve a pass sometimes. However, now I think back to that night, I realize that I should have walked away then. All of my friends told me that if he was doing that only a month into the relationship, it would only get worse. They were right.

The part I think that makes me the most susceptible to accepting this behavior is the fact that I have messed up relationships in major ways by also allowing my anger to get out of control and say things I don't mean. I have done some terrible things in relationships and have received numerous passes for my behavior. Ultimately, much of my own bad behavior has led to ruined relationships and hurting people I care about. So I truly want to give the forgiveness that I recognize I have also needed at times.

We fell into a cycle, and the behavior continued. Things would be great for almost a week, and then there would be a huge blow up. Our fights never seemed to be about anything real though. He would blow up over seemingly innocuous things. Because I said something he didn't like. Because I acted too emotionally. Anytime I ever tried to come to him with my emotions he rejected them. He didn't want a Negative Nancy. He didn't want me.

We would have a discussion, and he would say something I didn't understand. He would reply to my confusion by saying he would explain it like he was speaking to a 5-year old. I would try to explain myself and use an experience from a previous relationship as an example, and he would get up an walk out of the room. He would respond when I told him that he was acting ridiculous by saying that I was "stupid as shit."

We couldn't ever talk about how his words made me feel. He had to turn it back around and accuse me of the same behavior. But because it was me instead of him doing it, that made me worse. He would call me names. When I called him names in an effort to defend myself he would use that as proof that I was guilty of the same behavior. But I was always worse. It was unladylike. No guy wants a girl to speak like that. I used too many curse words for a girl, though he would rarely make sense because he used the "f word" so much during one of his lectures that I could not understand what he was saying. But somehow, I was worse still. 

There were multiple occasions he left me in the middle of a restaurant or a bar and made me walk home by myself. There was one occasion that he threw me out of his house along with all of my things in front of his best friend. There was a camping trip at the lake where he took me paddleboarding and called me a "cunt" so no one else could hear him.

Then last weekend we went to Aspen. Everything was going well. We spent the day biking and walking around the town. That night we had plans to go dancing. I began driving us and using Google Maps to navigate my way from Smowmass to Aspen. I made a wrong turn. As I was turning around he was telling me that he knew the way, and I should ignore the app. I said no, and he called me stupid. I responded, "We're going this way, dickface." (Needless to say, I never take being called stupid well) He began to call me a barrage of names...stupid...idiot...I'm a joke...I'm a loser...no man wants me. So I said that we were going home. He told me to pull the car over. He was planning on making me walk in the cold in heels over a mile uphill back to the hotel.

I pulled the car over, and he continued to yell at me, ordering me to get out of the car. I refused. He then grabbed my neck to choke me. He quickly released but got out of the car to come around to the driver's side to physically pull me out of the car. I still resisted and refused. As the insults continued I became enraged. Needless to say, I don't take physical assault well, either. I stepped on the gas. I drove his car right into the ditch...on purpose. Negative Nancy was released just for a minute.

He went into full meltdown mode. I got out of the car and began walking. By that time, it was clear that walking in the cold was the safer less painful option. He hopped into the driver's seat while his passenger door was still open and began trying to get the car out of the ditch. He ended up getting it further stuck and bending his passenger door to the point that it no longer functioned as a door just dangling off the side of his car.

As I walked away, I looked up and saw police lights coming down the hill. I was sure they were coming for us.

Throughout the following days, I became hyper emotional. All of this anger bubbled up within me, and I had no idea how to get it out. How had I let myself be such a fool? I began researching signs of emotional abuse, and it turns out that I was a match. As I read more and more the anger and sadness enveloped me. I learned what the term "gaslighting" meant. I learned that I possessed every symptom of emotional abuse, and he exhibited every sign of an emotional abuser. 

I'm embarrassed to say that I still hung on. Maybe I just had a way of pressing his buttons. Maybe if he could see how much he hurt me. Maybe if I confront him with the evidence. Maybe if I just wait for the perfect time to tell him how I feel. 

So I patiently waited about a week. I let him sleep next to me. We watched TV, and I let him borrow my car while his was in the shop. I told him I loved him, and carried on like normal. But I found myself in my alone time emotional, feeling like I was going to explode. 

Finally, I asked him politely if it was a good time to talk. He said 'no' like always. I told him that since he was on call over the weekend and there was no guarantee we would have time to talk, a sunny afternoon spent outside was the best place. I wasn't trying to fight, but we did just have the cops called and serious property damaged the weekend prior. 

I began by stating that the relationship had turned abusive. I began by telling him that there is no way to move onto the good stuff and work on learning to communicate better when there were temper tantrums and name-calling and abuse. As I spoke, the tears just overwhelmed me. The anger and the hurt that had been sitting for so long just below the surface had risen up. All I could do was cry. 

I am rarely the one crying in a relationship, but I can say I have never felt so frustrated in a relationship. I honestly felt like I had tried everything. My tears were me at the end of myself. 

I found myself holding onto one thing. I told myself that if he could acknowledge how he hurt me, there was hope. I wanted the relationship to work so badly. I felt like we had all of the bones of a great relationship if he would just care and try. As I continued to talk through my tears he became frustrated. He didn't want to listen. He wanted to talk. I sat there begging him to just listen to me. Begging. I explained that I had so much emotion pent up with no one to talk to hoping to find the perfect time and place for him to listen. I needed him to hear me so badly. The relationship depended on it.

It never occurred to me that there would never be a perfect time and place because he never cared about me. He didn't want to hear anything I had to say. He only cared about himself and what he had to say. He wanted me to know that in spite of my tears, I was still worse.

He walked away as I sat there sobbing from over 5 months worth of abuse. That was probably the best thing he could have done for me. It hurt, but I knew I had given him his last chance. The one hope I was holding onto was snuffed out. 

Now I'm sitting here wondering where this leaves me. Who is this person I have let myself become? Am I that desperate? I'm embarrassed. Everyone told me to leave him, and I couldn't find the strength. What does that say about me? My struggle to maintain my dignity led me to become what many would call "crazy". I'm sure if he was telling the story it would be a tale of a bat-shit crazy girl who "never wanted to hear about herself" (he told me this daily). 

But I kept posting the happy photos. I kept suggesting more trips and more self-help books and couples therapy. I kept ignoring my feelings. I concluded that men aren't supposed to care about those anyway. 

So I'm writing to tell you that I'm broken right now. I'm writing to tell you that I feel so alone, unloved, and un-worthy of love. I'm writing to tell you to never trust what you see on social media. I'm writing to tell you that abuse is sneaky and real. I'm writing to tell you that it takes time to heal. I'm writing to tell you the truth. I'm writing to get it out. Hoping that writing it will get the anger and sadness and grief out of my body, on the outside of me instead of the inside where it's destroying me.

I'm writing to tell you that the hardest part has been that there has been no one to talk to. My family and friends told me to leave him, and became frustrated with my yo-yo relationship. They want to tell me what to do without listening. They don't know how to spot abuse. They don't understand why I kept going back. They didn't really try to understand either.

They also know me well. There is indeed two sides to every story. I have not been perfect in the relationship. I KNOW how to push someone's buttons and make them angry. If I could make a living at button pushing, I would be rich. I guess that's where things get tricky and sticky. It's easy to overlook abuse because there are two sides. But I found myself acting out in strange ways...calling names...damaging his stuff...in an effort to hold onto my dignity. What kind of person would I be if I didn't put up a fight? 

But abuse is so much more than that. It's the person telling you things happened differently than what you remember. It's the person telling you that you shouldn't tell the couples' counselor everything. It's the person telling you that being in the relationship is your choice, but it's also your only choice. It's the person telling you that you've never been engaged because you're such a terrible person. It's the person telling you that you're just too sensitive. It's the person telling you that you're always angry and that's why they don't love you. It's fake apologies just to get you to shut up. It's the threats to leave if you don't let them do what they want. It's the "tit for tat" in every conversation.

Abuse is even more than that. Abuse is telling you that no other person has made them feel like this. It's telling you that you would make a great wife and mother. It's telling you that you're so beautiful (a "9" to be exact). It's great sex, and fun nights out. There's deep connection and plenty of things in common and intense physical attraction. There's so much good mixed in with the constant domination and scrutiny in the background. It's having a calm conversation and the straight face when he says, "I'll fuck you up" over this very blog post.

So here I am scared to post this, and much of my words are for my own documentation purposes. I know he won't like it, but my emotions have become uncontrollable. My behavior has become erratic. I am fluctuating between sadness and rage. I'm embarrassed and don't want pity. But I also don't have a fucking single person to talk to. I'm not talking about a one-time pow-wow. I'm talking about someone to express this deep-seeded rage that won't end. I'm talking about when I talk to him and don't know if I'm crazy or he is. I'm talking about feeling so completely alone in this, because I AM. I so so so am. And writing this is the only way I have to get it out. But it just feels like I need to get it out over and over and over again. There's no one for that.

That's abuse.