Let’s spend a moment talking about the man who has been predominately by my side for an upwards of nearly two years. I don’t know how or why I’m even thinking about sharing these things I ponder with you, but I need an outlet.
I met him, in a situation that anyone could guess wasn’t going to work. Long term rehab. He was odd. Didn’t talk much, eyes always set in one direction like a fox hunting it’s pray. He has beautiful eyes, but they are so wide and open, it’s bothersome. He has a normal, man haircut that never grows too long. Preppy, casual outfits that don’t tell you one thing about him besides that he cares what people see when they see him. He wear glasses, plain as all get out, and does everything a way, that he himself will forever do it. He is messy, strangely neat WHILE being messy, constantly dropping things on the floor while nodded out on sleep meds with a cherry longcut dip diluting in his saliva to destory his gums and take the teeth along for the ride. His pills stay with him, all 15 prescriptions from lithium to baclofen, to suboxone. I don’t agree with what he takes, but that’s not for me to press. I once came upon what could have been a minor disagreement over a new suboxone prescription at walgreens without my knowledge to a mountain from a molehill that trapped me under it with more questions. More about him, he doesn’t show emotion about much of anything, only about things that mean discomfort to his life, appointments being moved, scripts messed up, family gatherings being punctual, and of course me. Myself and the idea of me being with other men is not something he likes to think of. This idea is simply unacceptable, to him I am his and only his until I die. He may not say it like that, but i fear that’s how he means it when he says he loves me.
I’m sorry if my blogs seem so down, or under the weather. I started this blog because I’m drowning in questions and contorted reality. I’m living in my own fucking prison and some days I lie to myself about how bad it is.
I question if my relationship is what’s wrong, or is it just me? Did I cause this?
We had abuse after abuse come up in this relationship for a while. I cheated on him over a year ago, around the 3rd month we were together. I was wrong, I took advantage, I felt unwanted and acted out. I’m not excusing that I slept with another guy and ruined the trust that was just forming, but my “boyfriend” saw me twice a month. We barely knew eachother, and every time I told him this wasn’t what I wanted because he gave me almost no attention at all aside a five minute phone call at night, he would tell me how much I apparently meant to him and please give him time. I did. Once I came home from a womans halfway house I began driving out to see him and he would sometimes ignore me, so I drove 70 miles for nothing. He left me in Niagara 50 minutes from my house without a car so he could smoke k2. I was unaware that he had been purchasing synthetic marijuana as much describe it, he was supposedly four months clean. My best friend had been hooking up with a guy on parole that was selling this k2 and here my new boyfriend is pretending he is coming up to see me only to be going behind my back to buy drugs. Eventually I find out, what the newest issue was. By the time I had figured it out he had graduated k2 to a half and half with real pot, and cocaine as well. When I drove up, he was out of his mind. Someone who talked very little, now babbling like parrot about things I know nothing about.
His ex girlfriend is dead, she overdosed in bed next to my boyfriend two years ago. I met him a few months after this event. While strung out on cocaine and crack he repeatedly called me her name one night. I took a shower and noticed her soaps tucked away in the shower basket. I wanted him to open up to me, my biggest desire at the time being and now I was getting everything. I wasn’t even sure if what he was saying was true. Mind you this man was living in a men’s supportive living house while smoking crack. Me being a year clean at the time, begged him to throw the paraphernalia out sleep it off. He decided to take a ride with me to my home. He slept like a baby that night for many hours into the morning… The following morning I attended outpatient and did a drug screen while he had my car only to come back to him smoking crack he got in an unknown town in twenty minutes. I underestimated his abilities. Pat on crack was nice Pat, he was just a mess of words and pieced together fragments of sentences, but nicer. I took him home and when I settled in he asked me to stay, I decided against it but he had taken my keys and said they were misplaced. I decided to stay and wait the night out, but I awoke to him covered in blood without a phone. He crawled on top of me, dirty, bloody, restless and needy. I told him to clean up before touching me and he refused to get off me, his tears rolling on to my face. I have never smoked crack and I never want to after these episodes. I just wanted to leave…
I was put in jail for Pat’s crackasode. He battled with a judge on the phone about me doing nothing wrong, but I wouldn’t be disrespected and threw my wallet at the judge who then put me away for a week. A week is nothing though. Pat went away to rehab.
While Pat was in rehab I met a guy, who was going to meetings as well. We took our kids to the park and had a lot of fun while I started my first weeks of nursing school. Sadly, once Pat returned home I decided a friendship with a male would be a problem and I ended it. Pat was happy, he looked amazing, his body was beautiful and he looked so fucking healthy. His mind was settled, it was like he had slayed a dragon that had been catching up to him for years. He moved into a halfway house where I would visit weekly. For once we were in love, so I assumed. We were touchy and romantic, we kissed and joked, we shared money, we did everything we could together with my daughter included. Sadly all things came to an end around Christmas.
I admitted to pat that I had cheated in the third month of our relationship. He did not take this well. First it was tears, then it was anger, lots and lots of anger. January was the first time he put his hands on me, after a month of arguing over me cheating he threw me on the ground and yanked me back and forth by the collar of my shirt. He had one hand grabbing my hair and gritted his teeth while he spit on me. Then he stopped and cried again, I was scared, but I knew I had caused this.
Months go by, my school work is suffering because the abuse didn’t stop, but the reasons why did. He decided he had the right to rip me around like a rag doll, and switch from good to bad in minutes.
Pat has not gotten better, or worse. He just doesn’t care anymore. When I leave him he comes here and cries to me about how can I disrespected my 💓 heart and leave him when he knows I love him and only him. Our sex, is absolutely amazing and always had been, but it’s the only thing he does right if at all anymore. I’ve been gathering resources to safely leave, but it’s hard. I do not want to be alone. I love the nights we spend holding each other in bliss. There’s always a morning though, and I’m always afraid of it. I just cannot live like this. I am a good person with a good career and I’m constantly put down to nothing. My depression is spiraling out of control and I turn to work to deal with it. I dontd know how I feel.