That’s exactly what he said. He has something really special. A surprise actually and the whole day planned. I’m excited at this point. Making plans for that Saturday. Trying to figure out what it is and I think to myself it would be so nice to finally be with a good guy that cares for me and is willing to put in the effort. Does he have a trip around the city planned? Is he going to pick me up and we’d go out of town? Did he buy something cute to wear? What is this special event he has planned? Are we going to fly out of town, maybe? I don’t know. So I find a babysitter for the day and I think about all the fun possibilities. Zip lining? Helicopter ride? Cooking date? He won’t tell me.
This is my ex. We’ll call him Jeff. Jeff begged me to give him another chance. Said he cares about me and we had good times and he regrets what he did. I said, “I don’t know…” You can fill in the… Just think of all your past relationships and why they ended and all the reasons why you don’t want nor should you get back together with the person. And think of how they literally have to climb out of the pits of Hells to even have you consider touching them again. That’s how my relationship with Jeff ended. So,when he told me he had a special day planned I was really excited. I thought maybe he is serious? Maybe he really does regret leaving that woman’s underwear under his bathroom sink and fucking the workout buddy from his gym? All of which he denied. He has no idea how the underwear got under his sink and doesn’t remember the texts messages he sent about fucking that girl with the nice “ass”.
After everything I went through and am still going through with my other ex.and the mess that has become my life this day was set up to be a very much needed reprieve.
Then Saturday came. I got up did my general morning routine and you know what. After working all week, I decided I didn’t want to go out. I know. I know. You’re thinking why? Jeff is wealthy, lives in a high rise, owns part of a pharmaceutical company, is a great dad…yeah he probably cheated, but why not give him another chance?
Because I don’t feel like it. He called later and asked if I could go out and I said,” I couldn’t the babysitter backed out.” And guess what? He says, “Aw man” with his Texas drawl, “I had the day planned. I was thinking you could come over here and I’d make a nice dinner and then we’d walk around uptown.” Ha. Yup…so his great date was for me to spend two hours getting pretty to see him, paying for a babysitter, just to drive 40 minutes to his place and then eat a lukewarm meal. Then walk around town so he could feel good about touching my ass in public and showing everyone I’m his.
I stayed home with the girls in my pjs that night and played minecraft. After working all week until late that was really the best night I’ve had. And my big kid liked it too.
Medication for anxiety and depression further victimizes my mind. Why should I have to take medication because other people treated me like shit and abused me most of my life? Why should I have to hurt my mind and my ability to remember things because other people were assholes. It makes no sense. If anything they should be the ones taking medication for their illnesses and lobotomizing their brains. You know my memories make me sad, but I’m going to be strong and I’m not going to let the pharmaceutical industry poison me anymore.
Did I ever tell you that that I love the fall? The way the crisp air hits my lips and fills my lungs with pride leaves me with a reassurance that you are by my side.
Did I ever tell you that I can hear your plan? The way the leaves fall tumbling past the cool breeze shows I should never fear what you have in store for me.
I still want to cry when I see the pictures of myself in the hospital and think about having her alone, being in the hospital alone. No one visiting. I just…I just need to be ok with all of this. It’s not about strength; it’s not about doing the right thing;it’s about trying to be happy with my life. It’s about finding or being grateful for the things I’ve done for myself. It’s so hard when I have a baby that is very needy. Sometimes, I just want to leave her in the room to cry. I hate babies. I can’t wait until she’s four.
Finally, she’s asleep.
I hate when people ask me if I have support. All the times she and I have gone to the doctor’s or hospital that stupid question comes up I think, “Do I look like I have support?! I’m here alone, idiot!” Why even ask the stupid question? It’s not like anyone’s going to do anything about it.
My daughter has GERD. It could be worse, much worse, but it’s difficult doing it by myself.
He wants to come around and babysit a couple of days out of the week, but I don’t even want to see him sometimes. I let him come over because I need a break or I’ll snap. I don’t know if it’s worth it.
I was over his place this weekend. I went upstairs to shower the next morning and saw a picture of him and the new girl on his floor. She’s stunning. Even more so than the last. perfect symmetry. So from yesterday, until today, I’ve had to keep telling myself, “I know I’m not beautiful and it’s ok. Beauty does not make someone faithful. Lack of beauty does not make someone else cruel. My life is the way it should be. The way I always knew it would be. Just accept it.”
So I accept it and I let him do what he wants. Then go home and bury it, not think of it. Ignore it. I try to bury the memory of him putting a bag over my head while 5 months pregnant and asking me to kill myself. I bury him getting another woman pregnant after leaving me and telling me he wants to have a family, a life with her and their kids. I bury the panic attacks I have when these emotions peek through after months of nothing and not thinking about my past.
You can’t change someone and it doesn’t matter if they treat someone else better. It doesn’t matter if they would never kiss your stomach and talk to your child. It doesn’t matter that they will never tell you they love you or pretend to be faithful or lie to you. It doesn’t change who they are. And it doesn’t change that I will always be lonely with only my children and demons to keep me company.
I really hate sleeping sometimes not because I’m closing my eyes and missing out on the world, but because of what happens sometimes when I close my eyes. I haven’t thought of my first love in a year and I spent the past two days dreaming about him. I dreamt he was getting a divorce from his longtime girlfriend.
I thought of him spending time with my daughter again and the three of us together. I cursed his memory too. All the horrible arguments. His total control over me. His unwillingness to be supportive or positive or to love me. I kept telling myself, “Don’t miss him.” “Don’t think about him.” “He was horrible to you.” “Remember what he said to your daughter? How he treated her? She was traumatized by him.” “She hates him.” I kept telling myself to not care, but I couldn’t help it. I looked him up online.
He married her. The filipino model. She looks beautiful. Her dress must be at least 20 grand. He looks great in his suit. I compare myself to her. This week it happened, I assume, because the wedding photos were posted…two…days :sigh: ago.
He was horrible to me. He tried to atone for it while I was with someoneelse. I was afraid of him. Truly afraid of him by that point. Listening to his voice made me have a panic attack, but I kept talking to him…forcing myself to try to change how I felt towards him. I couldn’t. He proposed to me. The only person to have done so properly and he did it right where we broke up, right where we first dated…God so many painful memories and I can’t stop thinking about him. Why does it still hurt 5 years later?
I guess it’s because of the child we lost that summer.
Just like I waited for him to leave me two years ago, I’m waiting for him to leave her. I know I should be proactive about this, but I only have him. I’m being selfish, I know.
I spent yesterday morning at his place just to see him ignore me and text the whole time; presumably a girl. We went out to eat lunch and sat in silence.
I told him, “It’s pointless for you to eat with us.”
He asked, “Why?”
“It just seems like a waste of your time.”
That’s all we are doing is wasting our time. Once Jennifer takes him back, he won’t ask to see her. I don’t want to keep doing this. It makes me want to cry when I’m with him and he’s somewhere else.
I think when babies smile in their sleep they are dreaming of a never ending river of milk or snuggling up in the womb.
She’s getting pretty feisty with my boobs now. I imagine she’s thinking of obscenities to call my boobs when they don’t give her the amount of milk she wants right away. Her facial expressions and how she flails her arms about in anger are so funny. I wonder who she will become?
He’s been calm lately. Met up with us twice. It’s only a matter of time before his tantrums start again and he makes me upset. I’ll try not to think about it for now . I’ll just enjoy the momentary peace between us.
I still hurt. I wish it would go away. I hate that I’ve regained some of my ability to remember easily. It’s been a few years since I’ve been on celexa and ativan. It worked for me. Too well. It allowed me to be happy, by trading in my fantastic memory, the ability to recall perfectly what it was like to kiss an ex for the first time. I would remember how I felt in that very moment, the electricity up and down my spine (the same way I felt when I first kissed him), the feeling of their lips and skin. I could close my eyes and remember their hands on me, around my waist…
But without the ability to remember, I could forget my pain, stop ruminating and move forward. I could also forget my present.
It allowed me to stay with him in the beginning. It allowed me to quell my anger, expectations, moods, desires. It pacified me. I was happy.
Honestly, I love how I feel when I’m on it. I haven’t taken my meds and I won’t for a while. It’s a difficult sacrifice, but one I’m willing to make for her.
I will have to go on them again, eventually. Then I’ll no longer be able to remember phone numbers, events or conversations and I’ll forget my past, and I will be happy.
God, I miss being kissed.