Breaking Free

I had a lot of revelations recently. I started this year on a bad note and wallowed in self pity for days, calling out of work and afraid to leave my bed, swallowing klonopin after klonopin hoping i could erase everything in the past few months from my memory. And it wasn't working. When i walked into work i knew for sure I was going to be fired. I had a stack of unopened bills by my bedside from hospitals and my two maxed out credit cards and bombarded with phone calls from bill collectors. Everytime i drank to try to escape the darkness, I overdid it, to the point where i was blacked out but still fuInctioning and talking and doing highly embarassing things. I had made a pact with myself that if 2015 didn't change anything, I'd die by my own hand in 2016...a year...a year to make everything right and if things weren't in place than fuck it. I spent my days either going to work or sitting on the couch watching law and order svu. Looking at any guy who might be available and telling myself i had a crush on them and plotting how the whole relationship was going to work. Dying of this soul crushing lonliness that constantly weighed me down, as if i was wearing a drenched cloak, i couldn't move. And the sexual frustrations! The fact that watching porn or using a vibrator are nothing compared to actually being with a man. And one night stands are fucking pointless because after you've experienced making love, fuck, it's not the same, and they could give two shits if you get off or not. So I sat in front of my boss and he read off a paper all of my infractions and i sat there quietly, tapping my feet and fiddling with my hands as i always do when I'm nervous. He finally looked up at me, and i realized that he wasn't the enemy I made him out to be. Any other manager would have fired me years ago for all my infractions. I realized this man i dispised most of the time had probably stuck his neck out for me more times than I'll ever even know. And it also dawned on me that if i lost my job, not only had i officially lost everything, but it was my fault. It's my fault i maxed out my credit cards. It's my fault that i couldn't force myself out of bed. It's my fault that I've let time slip by through my fingers, living life on auto pilot and wallowing in self pity. One of the last times i talked to Mark he said it seemed as though i had made absolutly no progress since our split during the summer, and he was right. The only thing that had changed was that my love for him had turned to hate, but that hurt just as much as still being in love with the shadow of a person who no longer existed.

I cleared my throat and I told my manager, it's all my fault. I know what I've done is wrong, i know that i work for a company that is all about the bottom line and that i was not helping fullfill that and i know that he is just doing his job. I told him that I knew I was on very thin ice and I haven't been trying hard enough. I thanked him for sticking up for me and giving me one last chance to prove myself. I told him i knew what the consequences were for my actions and that i wouldn't blame him if he fires me the next time i screw up because i would do the exact same thing. I told him i didn't deserve it but i was grateful for it. He seemed satisfied, understanding even, sympathized with my current situation but still stern. I walked out shaky, relieved but at the same time afraid of what would happen if i fell apart again. I had no idea where to begin to pick up the pieces of my life...

It's been a very slow process. I decided to pick up a book instead of turning on reruns of law and order. I started slow, reread the Harry Potter series, very distracting. The next day i threw all my bills into a box, made a list of every single one of them, put my other financial responsibilities on a piece of paper like rent and car insurance. The list looked overwelming, especially looking and the 700 dollar hospital bills, so i put it away and waiting for payday, i put the list out of my mind. Next came taking care of myself. So many days i'd slouch off to work, no make up, no jewlery, sometimes not even washing my hair, wearing all black or just some plain old conservative t-shirt. No. No more of that. If i look good, if i put in the effort, i feel good.

yesterday was a milestone for me. I woke up early for a psychiatrist appointment. I haven't been sleeping well, I drink a pot of coffee and smoke half a pack of cigarettes everyday before i even think about eating, and generally I'll eat about one meal a day, usually fast food. I woke up and went through my routine, coffee in hand along with scrolling through my twitter feed. but something felt different, and i couldn't explain what it was. It wasn't happiness but i also wasn't sad either. I had bursts of energy that I hadn't felt in so long, i felt like i could do anything. It felt as if something that had grip on me, something that had been holding me back for so long was no longer in place. I reached out to some of his friends, to see if a connection between them could be reformed, and one of them responded with such a frenzy to spend time with me. And i began thinking, how do i explain my absence? how to i explain the times that they arrived at my house and I stayed in my room? How to i explain the nights where i got so drunk and hugged and told them how much they meant to me after showing even the smallest form of affection? And it hit me.

It was overwelming. I never thought that I really had any true beliefs in anything. I'm an agnostic for godsake, torn between even knowing if there is a god or not. But i realized that Mark had instilled a belief in me from the very begining and I've been carrrying it around for all this time. He convinced me that he is a good person. That is always right. That he was the good guy and I was the bad guy. That if he told me that I had done something wrong that was it, it was fact. And all of those "mistakes" that i made in our relationship weren't mistakes...i did nothing wrong. Why did it seem like i was flirting with his friends or too affectionate when i was drunk, because if anyone showed me even the slightest sign of affection i clinged to it because he wasn't giving it to me. why did i not call my old friends or my family? because of the barrage of phone calls and questions and suspicions when i walked through the door when i got home. He blamed my depression for everything but i was sad because of what he was doing to me. My emotions, my thoughts, my worries...all of them were wrong, he told me that!  Everytime we fought, he won and I'd lie there defeated every single time, kicking myself for being bad, like a fucking house elf from Harry Potter.

I remembered so vividly, the night i was at my moms house drunk. we had moved in with his parents and i was not adjusting well, afraid to leave the house, felt so isolated and so weak and just so depressed. And all of these emotions spilled out of me after the right amount of cocktails and suddenly i was rumaging through every cabinet in the house and swallowing any pill i could find. When the ambulance came, i was on the stretcher, out of my mind delusional, feeling as if i was in a dream, and Mark stood above me having just shown up. And as i begged and pleaded for him to make it stop, he smiled at me. And for so many years i thought that that smile was just his way of trying to calm me down, but i could see that smile more vividly than i had ever seen it in my life and it was malicious. He had me right where he wanted me. i had made the "mistake" that was going to help him get whatever he wanted for as long as he wanted. In the hospital, i wasn't working on a way to get myself happy or improve my life, my list of goals were ways to try to make this mistake up to him, to fix, to be better for HIM. And when i got out, he gave me a list of terms and conditions than told me to give him head to make it up to him, and i obliged! He's had me under his thumb for six years. He is malicious, he is controlling. He made me become a person i dont even recognize. And even after months of being out from under his roof, with little to no contact, i'm still afraid to leave my house or call my friends or fucking love myself. I didn't hate myself because i was a bad person, he told me i was a bad person. He told me how i should behave, and it became a core belief that it was impossible for Mark to be bad. And once i recognized that belief and held it up to the facts i have in front of me, after staring at the divorce papers that were sent to me THE DAY BEFORE OUR ONE YEAR WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, and remembering being a third wheel as our dates became rondevous's with Christy, as i sat back and watched their affection for each other bud in front of my eyes....fuck! A good person doesnt' do that. He doesn't run off with the bitch who betrayed his wife's trust even when he says he still loves me. NO!

And the thing is, i have no idea if any of this was intentional...but does that matter? And i could almost hear myself laughing with delight as i watched this belief crumble to the floor...I was free. I was told this many times but time and time again he proved to me it was false...but I had been right all along. Finally, i feel like I'm free to actually be me, to live my life...and it feels amazing.