Please Don’t Love Me.

I fall in love and I fall harder than anyone I have ever met.

I push those people away from me almost as quickly as I fall for them.

Please don’t love me. It will only cause you stress, worry and eventually grief. I am dying, quite literally. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but long before you which is something a love should never have to endure. Loving me means taking care of me (or at least trying to while I furiously yell “I CAN DO IT MYSELF” at you and you look at me with a completely helpless expression), it means watching me have seizures in my sleep and when it’s not the seizures, it’s the night terrors. It’s being there through my bad days, the days when I cannot get out of bed-whether it’s because I am in pain or because I am too depressed to give a damn. It means being there for my good days when I have energy and am happy but you will still have that gut wrenching feeling in the pit of your stomach because you know that this isn’t going to last as long as we would both like it to. It means I will be a burden on you. I will lash out at you like a wounded animal, I will need but refuse your help and I will cry sometimes. I will hurt you and hold you back from everything you could accomplish.

I want you to love me, but I can’t let you love me because if I do, in the end it would have all been for nothing. I will go and you will be here alone. It’s because I love you, that I don’t want to put you through this.

It takes a very strong person to be able to truly love and faithfully spend the rest of my life with me “in sickness and in health” and all that jazz. It’s a person that I do not believe exists. It’s not your fault and I’m sure you are absolutely perfect, but there is someone, somewhere that will be able to have a long and happy life with you, and you deserve that.

So before you love me, stop and think about what that actually means.It’s easy to say love is blind, and that you don’t care about all of that, or that you are the exception. But 5 years down the road when you have dealt with more than your fair share of my bad days, you will look for someone else, someone less complicated. You may keep it from me and stay out of guilt, but eventually it is bound to happen, and I can’t blame you for that.

I’m easy to love, but hard to love forever.

And maybe you could, maybe you could look past all of my flaws and hard times and maybe you could truly love me. Maybe you are the exception and maybe I will get better, I can’t really say for sure. I used to have hope, but it has been proven time and time again that hope is a very dangerous thing.

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I Wonder as I Ramble.

I wonder what it would be like to not feel this way anymore. Maybe I just want to not feel anything anymore. No mania, no depression, no aches and pains, no love, just nothing, only numb. That’s what depression medicine always did to me. I almost miss those days.

I wonder If I love you more than you love me, or sometimes I wonder if I don’t love you enough. Perhaps it is falling apart, maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Maybe it was and this is just another one of “God’s” tests. [You can give up, God. I don’t care much for your tests.]

I wonder if I am not doing enough to make you happy, If you would be happier on your own. At what point do I stop trying-or do I ever- to make you happy. You used to come home from work and be happy to see me, you said I made it all better. Now when you get home you barely look at me, I’m just here for decoration, your maid, your cook whatever I am to you.

I wonder if I’m imagining all of this and over analyzing, yet I wonder if you feel that way. Am I so terrible? So ugly, fat, disgusting? Why am I not enough for you? will I ever know what Is enough? Will I ever be enough?

I wonder if I am a good wife who is under appreciated or a dead beat who has been lied to for five years.

I wonder if you would notice if I was gone or am I just that insignificant? Do I really mean so little to you?

I wonder how after five years together you still don’t know anything about me. You don’t know that I like salad but hate lettuce on my sandwich, that my favorite color is teal, that I don’t like large crowds, that I am terrified of escalators. How is it even possible when I know so much about you, every little quirk like and dislike, I notice.

I wonder if you will ever care, or if I’m holding on to something that just isn’t there anymore. I wonder what I would do if you ever told me the truth.

 

I

Armageddon

ArmageddonIt was the same old shit different day. My husband and I were heading out of town to visit family. The sun was shining, it was warm outside. We danced in our seats and sang our hearts out to the radio, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen. I asked my husband to pull into the nearest gas station so that I could buy a Bob Marley’s Mellow Mood tea and a pack of cigarettes, my two crutches that I have yet to kick. I knew they would calm me down because surely it was only the anticipating anxiety of seeing every one again. All the questions, “When are we going to get a grandbaby?” “Are you still following that diet?” It never fails and I hear it at least once each time we visit. He let our dog, Shelby out for a quick potty break, the cigs did the trick and we were on our way again.

 

I called my grandma and told her I would see her tomorrow because we were attending a wedding today and were going to spend the evening with my sister, nephew, Vinny, and brother-in-law, Billy. As we pulled into the drive My brother and his family were there along with my mom and a few of my sister’s friends. we chatted a moment and set up my cousin for the group of kids she had to babysit before all heading off to the wedding.

After the ceremony everyone was all smiles. The building was beautiful, tall and elegant. We waited outside on the large balcony while the bridal party took pictures. Inside the caterers were busying themselves setting up the tables and food. The bride was leaning over the railing of the balcony when they first hit. Everyone looked on in terror as she fell to the ground breaking her neck instantly. people swarmed around her and chaos broke out. I grabbed my mom and my husband just as the second hit took out my sister who was casually flirting with a groomsman. The three of us ran to the car followed by my brother, sister-in-law, and Billy. My brother and his wife took a separate car and we sped off towards my grandmothers house. The closer we got the more realization set in that the things attacking the wedding had attacked the whole town as well. Houses were burning and bodies lined the streets. The man on the radio said to take cover in a basement or cellar America was under attack by an unknown group. When we finally arrived it was obvious that we were too late. My grandpa was in the driveway and my grandma on the front porch both appeared to be dead. It hit too fast and they must have been trying to see what was going on. We started to turn around when my grandpa cried out for help. My husband and billy jumped out of the car and raced over to him. they tried to remove the branches holding him down when another branch broke loose and ran straight through my husband’s head. Billy screamed and apologized to them both before turning and running to the car. my mom and I held each other and sobbed. She had lost a daughter, her parents, and a son in law. Not only had she lost them, but she watched them die. Billy drove as fast as he could back to his house but slowed when we saw my brothers truck. a semi had rolled over on top of them. Nobody said anything our whole bodies were going numb.

Half of the house was smoldering and caved in the swing set in the back yard was crushed and under it you could see tiny hands and tiny feet. I heard Billy pray that Vinny wasn’t under it when it happened. The three of us ran inside. My cousin sat in the chair one of my sister’s many wall decorations was sticking out of her chest.

we searched everywhere when I heard whimpering coming from the basement. SHELBY! I ran down the stairs to see Vinny curled up in the corner with Shelby on top of him.

“she pulled me down the stairs Aunt Marisa, she hurt my leg.”

I could no longer hold back my tears I was so happy to see my dog and to see that she had saved my nephew from the terrible fate we had witnessed. I grabbed him and hugged him. I instructed him to stay there and I called up to my mom and billy to come down stairs. My mom came down and she was completely inconsolable but billy never came. We would have to save the explanation for tomorrow because we needed Vinny to stay calm. We turned on the radio in the basement.

“….Please head for safety, find a basement, cellar, or crawl space. We now know that we are under attack by alien life they have attacked our planet as of right now we know that pollution from earth is harming their planet and their mission is to destroy our buildings They are not here to kill us, I repeat they are not here to kill us, please take shelter.”

 

I am so sick of night terrors I could scream. Who dreams this shit? Who’s dreams are that detailed?!?! now you know why I’m an insomniac.

Gaining Freedom The Final Installment of “A Troubled Past”

freedom-1

Chad didn’t die that night, though there are still nights I wish he had. The terrifying nightmares of him finding me and killing me, my husband, a future child, or anyone else because of me makes me feel ill. I would have called as planned the next morning if he hadn’t called me 50 times before I woke up. His last voicemail said that he was driving and was going to run his car into a pole and kill himself. He was drunk I could tell from his voice, so, being fed up with his dramatic threats at ending his life I called the police this time. I knew he was going to jail and I didn’t care. I was relieved.

The police arrived at Bailey’s door. I described Chad in perfect detail along with his car and license plate number. While I spoke with the officers, Chad called me 48 times. The officer asked if I wanted to press charges against him for harassment and I said “not today, officer, He’s going to be in enough trouble when you find him driving around intoxicated.” When they left I went back to Bailey’s extra bedroom and curled up in a ball. It was probably an hour later when I received a call from Chad’s mother.

“Chad has been arrested for drunk driving, and has 3 different warrants out for his arrest. He failed his drug test for probation and hasn’t shown up for them for the past few weeks. He’s going to be in a jail for a long time.”

I cried. Not because I’d miss him, not because he’d hurt me, but because I was finally free and I didn’t know how to be free. I was excited, scared, happy, and still in disbelief that this was really going to be over.

I dated around for about 2 years. That doesn’t seem too long in the grand scheme of things but it was long enough. I dated a guy who later confessed he had slept with a man and wore my clothes when I wasn’t home. He also turned out to have a pretty nasty drinking problem which is something I just couldn’t deal with after Chad. So, long story short that relationshit didn’t last long. The I dated a co-worker. He was a normal guy, he was nice, funny, and took me out on actual dates. It was a really nice change of pace for sure but there wasn’t much of a connection so, I hooked him up with my best friend. That might sound weird but, they really hit it off just as I expected and are actually married now. I owe him a big thanks actually, though that would be awkward considering he’s married to my best friend, but he was the first guy post-chad that actually made me feel like I was worth something, that I didn’t deserve to be shit on like that, if I hadn’t started dating him, I’m not sure how long it would have taken me to grow back my backbone. Then one night at my friend’s house and a couple friend requests on Facebook changed my life for ever. My friend “introduced” me to her friend, David, on facebook and that’s where the story ends. He was a tall, goofy looking guy, cute, but goofy none-the-less. He was in college in another town but he came up and took me out on a date. That was almost 5 years ago, and we have been together ever since. He is my perfection, he’s the perfect combination of stubborn and laid back, asshole and lover, he would never lay a hand on me in anger and very rarely ever raises his voice with me. He’s just an all around great guy, and he has his moments as I’m sure you’ve read on here but everyone does. I love my hubsters :).

The End. Thank you for reading A Troubled Past.

 

A Troubled Past: Breaking Chad

meth

Keep in mind all names have been changed.

To Start from the beginning please click the link below to go back to the “A Troubled Past” page.

https://lateniteramblings.wordpress.com/category/a-troubled-past/

    I bet you’re expecting this to be some kind of confession where I claim that Chad was comparable to drugs in the fact that I couldn’t quit him. It’s not too far from the truth but alas, you would be incorrect.

My constant begging with Chad to quit smoking weed and doing cocaine seemed to be doing the trick. For a while I stayed with him purely because I knew it was the only way to keep my family and myself safe. Chad had literally written my name on a bullet and had access to some very powerful weapons. If he wanted to kill me, he certainly could without a problem and he was just smart enough to possibly get away with it (if he had been sober). My instinct for survival slowly transformed into something else. I (thought I) was seeing Chad for the first time in my life completely sober. No cigarettes, no alcohol, no weed, and no cocaine, just Chad. We had a new relationship that consisted of trust and love which of course was a nice change of pace from finding a random woman’s pink lacy thong in my bed. Even when I was suffering with eating disorders my ass was far too big for the XS piece of string. Anyway back to the “good times”…..

I was working at a popular restaurant as a waitress/manager and Chad was working for his family’s company while he and I were living together in an apartment. One very cold day right after my birthday, Chad picked me up from work and took me to see the Christmas lights in the park. I didn’t want to go, I had been working for 18 hours and my feet were swollen and sore. I bitched and moaned the whole way when suddenly he stopped, got down on one knee and pulled a rose from his coat. He had bought (with the help of his parents) a beautiful engagement ring and placed it in the center of the rose. He went on about how much he loved me and wanted to spend his life with me and all that jazz. That would be so disgustingly romantic had I not worked 18 hours, had a shower and not been standing in the freezing cold and snow. I said yes took the ring and headed to the car. I honestly thought things were looking up and that we had worked everything out, that I didn’t need to worry about him getting mean anymore because he was clean and sober now and our lives would be perfect together. hahaha boy, was I wrong!

The first part of the year went well, I went to work everyday and got a ton of overtime hours and with the money chad was making at work I knew it would be no time at all before we had everything we ever dreamed of. There were a few signs here and there that I overlooked. He had “started” smoking cigarettes again and even though I told him I could deal with it as long as he smoked outside (I smoked again too at that point but never inside). A couple times I had come home and found a butt floating in the toilet or on the incense burner. The house never smelled like smoke so I let it slide chalking it up to him coming home on his lunch break and doing what any other lazy guy would do when it’s cold outside. As time went by Chad seemed to work later and later each night. One night I had had a seizure from the stress overload at work and he wouldn’t answer the phone so, I called his mom. “Chad hasn’t worked for us in well over 2 months, Marisa. I’m sorry, I thought he told you? His dad caught him getting high on the job.” I shouldn’t have been surprised at all, but of course silly naive me, my jaw dropped. I waited for him to get home and when he did all hell broke loose. He swore up and down he had been smoking his pipe (tobacco) and his dad didn’t believe him. He didn’t tell me because he knew I would be mad but he had been working for one of his friends in construction and cleaning apartments. I wanted to trust him and believe that everything was all good, but I knew in my gut that none of his stories were adding up. I knew that I just had to deal with it, I knew Chad was a ticking time bomb and I had to bite the bullet and wait it out until I had a way out. over the next few weeks I had noticed our apartment building smelled awful, like rotten eggs or sewage. When I mentioned it to Chad he had told me the city was working on sewage lines nearby and that was the smell though he claimed to have barely noticed it and blamed it on my super-sonic smelling. His behavior began to change, he seemed more on edge and didn’t come to bed anymore he would be up playing video games when I went to bed and still in the same position when I woke up. Almost like he hadn’t moved at all. My days slowly became more and more ritualistic. I woke up, got ready and left for work (chad was usually gone) came home after work, cleaned up the messes chad had left me throughout the house, dishes, video games, controllers, random food on the counters…etc. I swear the neighbors that lived beneath us probably hated me and my vacuum more than anything else in the world. I am a cleaning fanatic and well, Chad’s random strips and balls of foil strewn about the house was enough to drive me insane. I remained completely unaware of what the foil was being used for, I knew you could make little makeshift pipes out of it for smoking weed but other than that I was clueless. Another month of this went by before Chad came home and broke down in tears. “I’m going to jail,” he said. I wasn’t entirely shocked I knew that a while back he had gotten caught stealing while we were on a “break” and he was on probation. He told me that he had a random drug test and that he had smoked weed a couple nights ago to try and go to sleep. While I was pissed I tried to remain calm, I told him one of our friends tested positive for weed a while back and they had only gotten a warning. Chad jumped up and grabbed my arms and started to shake me. “YOU STUPID B**** IT WASN’T JUST WEED OK? I’M GOING TO JAIL FOR A LONG TIME!” My heart stopped. I stayed as calm as I could hoping this wouldn’t escalate I was far too tired to fight him tonight and black eyes don’t suit when you work with the public. “METH OKAY?!?! HOW NAIVE ARE YOU!?! THE PLACE REEKS! THERE’S FOIL EVERY WHERE, I DON’T SLEEP AND I MAKE MORE MONEY THAN I EVER DID AT MY PARENTS SHOP! GOD YOU ARE SO STUPID YOU MAKE ME SICK!” Then as if to add dramatic effect he turned into the bathroom and puked uncontrollably while I grabbed my purse, work clothes and car keys and bolted out the door. I knew if I went to my moms, my grandmas or my sister’s he would find me so I circled around a couple different neighboring towns before I stopped at my friend, Bailey’s house. I knew it was safe. I worked with her, her building had security and I made sure they didn’t allow anyone up without calling first. He didn’t know her that well let alone where she lived and I had parked in her parking space under a car port but he could have followed me. Nothing surprised me anymore. I called my grandparents, my mom and my sister to make sure their doors were locked and to not answer the door for Chad. It didn’t take much convincing due to the fact that they all hated him. Bailey was my manager at the restaurant and she said if I didn’t feel up to working I could stay at her place or she could drop me off with family before work to avoid Chad seeing my car out and about. However, If I did want to go to work, she had devised a plan for that as well, I would ride to work with her and switch jobs with her, she would take my place on the floor and I could stay behind the scenes doing food count and office work. She would alert the authorities that one of her workers was in danger and that we needed assistance if he should show up. None of that was necessary though. At about 2 am I received a phone call from chad, I debated not answering but knew there was really no point he would continue to call until I did. His immediate reaction was to ask me where in the F*** I was. I Replied with a calm but clipped, “What do you want, Chad?”

“I WANT TO KNOW WHERE MY F***ING WIFE IS!”

“I’m not your wife chad,” I said, “what do you want?”

“F*** YOU! F*** THE RING AND EVERYTHING ELSE!! F*** YOU BITCH!”

“Alright, is that all?”

“GET YOUR ASS HOME NOW!”

“No, Chad, I’m staying here tonight.” I remained as calm as possible because that was the only way to deal with his rage. Otherwise he would just get worse and worse, by pretending that I wasn’t worked up or angry at him, he saw me as weak, he thought he could bully me into waltzing back into his web of abuse, when that didn’t work he would start the waterworks and the “I love yous” and “I will kill myself if you don’t come home” Bullshit he used to throw at me.

“Marisa, I took a tranquilizer and I don’t feel so good.” He had calmed down at this point and he sounded drugged, but Chad was a good actor. “Please come…” There was a pause in his whining followed by sounds of him vomiting again. “Please just come home I think I’m dying.”

I swallowed hard, I knew he could be telling the truth but I stood my ground a little while longer. “No, Chad, you are not dying I will stay here on the phone with you until you fall asleep.”

“I’M F***ING DYING AND YOU’LL STAY ON THE PHONE? SERIOUSLY? YOU WANT ME TO DIE!!!” He was yelling but it was coming out as a slurred whisper-yelling mess. I knew he had actually taken something and he could very well be dying on our couch right now.

“Shhhhh Chad, calm down I’m coming.”

When I walked in the door of our apartment the putrid smell of vomit made me gag. Everything in the apartment was overturned and broken Chad was sprawled out on the floor of the kitchen, pale and drooling. I touched his face. He was cold but still breathing his heart was still beating, he opened his eyes and for a second there was only white as he fought to roll them forward to look at me. “I’m sorry,” he said “I’m sorry I hurt you, I hurt my mom, and I hurt my sister really bad.”

I could feel my blood run cold. When Chad and I were on a “break” His younger sister told me he had molested her when they were younger and that she was in therapy. Chad had claimed over and over again that his sister was in therapy for a psychological condition in which she fabricates stories and lies constantly. I didn’t believe him, but I had pushed the thought from my memory. Until now.

I bent down next to him and whispered “your sister’s stories were true? You did that to her?”

He nodded his head while tears streamed down his face “yeah, I really hurt her…”

I stood up and looked down at this vile disgusting shell of a man before me. He was a drug addict, abusive, manipulative, controlling and now a child molester. I had to fight once again to hold back my own vomit while I struggled with the fact that he had touched me with the same hands he had used to touch his sister. He looked up at me completely unable to move, his breathing rapidly decreasing. The “right thing” would have been to call the police, an ambulance, or his family, but I wasn’t the “right thing” kind of person when it came to abusing children. I picked up his phone off the floor, turned it off and placed it on the counter out of his reach then turned and walked out of the apartment locking the door behind me.

A part of me wished he would die he did it to himself, I didn’t kill him, I just didn’t save him. The other part of me figured if he did make it through the night he would still end up in the hospital and then in jail away from me, his sister and anyone else he could hurt. I made up my mind that in order to clear my name I would call him in the morning to check on him then, when there was no answer I would call the police and tell them I’m afraid he did something stupid after our fight. Play innocent, play dumb.

And that’s exactly what I did.

A Troubled Past: Adolescence [PT 4] The Wrong Path

wrong

To Start from the begining please click the link below to go back to the “A Troubled Past” page.

https://lateniteramblings.wordpress.com/category/a-troubled-past/

That should have been the last time he hit me. It SHOULD have been the end of this portion of the story, but of course it wasn’t. Though I would like to think of myself as a very intelligent person, this mistake (or series of mistakes) cost me more than I care to admit. When Chad left me there bleeding out and sobbing it should have been proof enough that he was more evil than a man could possibly be. It should have proven that he would kill me or someone else with out a second thought and that he would have no remorse what-so-ever for doing so.

But it wasn’t enough.

I called chad two weeks after I lost our child to tell him that I had been pregnant and lost the baby. I don’t know if he didn’t believe me, didn’t want to admit he killed it, or just wanted to deny everything and make me feel weak. He simply said “It wasn’t my baby, it was Ryan’s and proceeded to not talk to me for another 2 weeks. Of course the baby wasn’t Ryan’s. I had only slept with him ONCE not to mention it was the night before Chad had beaten me, It hurt to think he truly thought I cheated on him. I started cutting ties with all of my friends (guys and girls) and even most of my family. I quit my job and that was when Chad must’ve decided that I was isolated enough to continue -what I call- a “relationshit.” We continued to date all through high school. What should have been some of my best memories are tainted with his hate, and his manipulative behavior.  Our prom night was one of the worst days of my life. He picked me up and we took some pictures with my grandparents and at his parents house. He smelled like weed and his eyes were completely bloodshot. I wasn’t very knowledgeable of drugs and how a person reacts so I had assumed he had only smoked pot. At the prom he left after only an hour and went out to his car. I thought I would have time to dance with a couple of friends before he came back (He had made me sit at a table the whole time). So I started dancing with Erikia, and a couple other people when one of my guy friends asked to cut in. At this point I was so mad at Chad that I didn’t care if he saw me dancing with a guy. If he wasn’t guna dance with me someone else would and besides what could he do in the middle of the gym in front of every teacher, student and police officer? So I danced. Chad came in the room and it all kind of got blurry. I remember him pushing my friend and grabbing my arm to pull me out of the school. He held on so tight that he left bruises on my arm. he threw me in his car with my white prom dress shut in the door and drove the 40 miles to his grandma’s house. Chad had been living with his grandma, He thought his parents were too strict and he didn’t want to follow their rules. He wanted to smoke pot (among other things), trip out on cold medicine, smoke cigarettes, and drink. He claimed the unfinished basement as his “room.” His grandma had trouble walking up and down the stairs so she rarely came down to check on him. When we got there he took me down to the basement and threw my pajamas at me then went in the other room and opened a bottle of vodka. I should have kept my mouth shut and waited it out until morning and just got the fuck out of there. Maybe I should have went upstairs and asked his grandpa to take me home. What ever I SHOULD have done, I didn’t do. Apparently turning to hysterics and screaming at him wasn’t a good idea.

“Who the F*** do you think you are, Chad?!?! You can’t just throw me in the back of your car like a dead dog and drag me down to your dungeon. I’m going HOME! F*** YOU AND F*** PROM AND F*** THIS DAY!!” I screamed at him like that for maybe 5 minutes before he snapped. I saw the look in his eyes before grabbed me and I tried to run but I couldn’t within seconds his hand was wrapped around my neck and I was inches off the ground pressed against a wall. He grabbed something off his dresser and pushed it hard to my throat.

“F*** ME?! F*** ME!?!?! ARE YOU F***ING KIDDING ME?! I’LL F*** YOU UP B*** I’M GOING TO KILL YOU AND THEY WILL NEVER FIND YOUR BODY.”

He pushed-what I later realized was a knife- harder into my throat and I felt blood dripping down my shirt. This is where they say fight or flight kicks in. there was no choice for me I had to do both. I kneed him in the stomach and ran up the stairs, I almost made it when he grabbed one of my heels (I had changed into my pajamas but put my shoes back on because of the gross basement floor). I fell down but my shoe came off and I reached down and grabbed the other. I proceeded to beat him with my high heel shoe and then gave it one good last throw at his face and started running again. I desperately tried to call my friend to come pick me up but just as I started to tell her where I was my phone was ripped from my hand I ran as fast as I could until I was sure he was no where around I slowed to a walk and finished walking the rest of the 20 mile trek to my house.

Though I hate to admit it, that wasn’t the only time I walked from his grandmas to my house, the last time this happened it played out in almost the exact same way only I walked the 20 miles in snow with no shoes on, in my fuzzy shorts and tank top (pajamas).

………………………to be continued in A Troubled Past: Breaking Chad