The Facebook farce

54 likes, over 6000 views and 20 comments to congratulate me on my newborn. Number of visitors to the hospital…0. Needless to say I drove us to the hospital and home. I knew I would end up having her alone, but I’m still hurt over it. It will take a bit for me to heal from that memory. It seems like the bad memories just never end.
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Progress

I miss walking through the sea of Manhattan. Walking through the streets surrounded by so many people, observing, seeing and not being seen…that’s when I’m my happiest. After the baby is born, I’ll have to take a trip with the kids.  Being around everyone is like a warm blanket. Dallas is too empty during the day to recharge me.

My mind is quieter today for some reason.  I still think of my past, but it’s with a healthy amount of detachment.  I’m not reliving it as I think. I was able to make it through the day without randomly crying too.  If I can keep it together for the next three weeks that would be ideal.

I’ve admitted a lot to myself lately. Although I want attachments, my attachments have come with a negative price (disrespect, taken advantage of, career lost or put in jeopardy) and so, it’s not worth reaching out to others.  I have to become stronger somehow in order to function normally in social settings, but I don’t know how and I don’t want to.  Whenever I try to show my strength it’s like I get hammered down again anyway. Maybe I’m meant to exist without adult connections? At least it didn’t hurt as much today. I hope everyday it gets better and better until my solitude fulfills me with inner peace.

 

Accepting defeat

She texted me this morning because she found an email from me on his phone. The email had screenshots of his text messages telling me that their son is not his and that he is not in a relationship with her. They were old text messages from June of 2014.

I took her texts as a sign that he was home and told them both I was heading over there to get her things. When I got there he lied and told me he wasn’t home.  I could hear him upstairs and his car was outside.  So I texted her and asked her to tell him to put our daughter’s things outside. He did begrudgingly.  For some reason he wanted me to not talk to him for a few weeks and wait for him to calm down so we can talk.

There’s nothing for he and I to talk about. There is no future where he and I are together.  There is no future where he is a father to her or a part of her life. I’ve known this for a very long time.  It’s not my fault. It’s just what he’s decided and all paths lead to the same ending.  No matter what I do or what he says, it always ends the same.

It’s not about winning

I’m not going to do it.  I thought about it for a day and went over all the possible scenarios in my head. I thought about what kind of person do I want to be. I thought about how doing something like this would change me, make me into someone I’m not proud of. I can rationalize a lot of things. I can not rationalize hurting him like this. He’s never done anything like that to me nor would he.  Also, I want to be a better person after today. I want to walk away from him, her, this mess. I want to start over with a better conscience not more trauma. I love him. I have to let him go.

Am I a terrible person?

She wants me to call her the next time we are in the middle of having relations.  She plans on showing up, catching him in the act and clapping.  I don’t know how I feel about this. She should have everything she needs by now and it makes me think the only person that will get hurt by this is me.

Doing this will mean that I’m breaking a promise I made to him and will hurt him so much. I don’t think I can do that. I still love him.

Doing it will also mean I’m standing up for myself.

Doing it will also mean I am a vindictive, horrible person who is only out to hurt him. It will make me a different person.

She says it’s not that big of a deal, that he deserves it for how he’s treated me. Her rational is I should do it because he does so much to hurt me.  I don’t know if she is playing me so he’ll hate me more, but I suspect so. Then she tells me, I have something to gain from it….she’ll leave him and he’ll be all to me. Yeah, right. Catching him with several other women should have been enough for her to leave. Aborting his child should have been enough. Seeing him with another woman is nothing compared to losing a child. And she is still with him. Why? Why go through so much?

I don’t understand why would someone encourage another to do something that is obviously so wrong?

If I didn’t care about him, then this would be an easy decision. If I wasn’t crazy this would be an easy decision, but I’m strangely curious as to how it would play out. Would it play out how I predict it will? Or would it have  a different affect. So far, I’ve been right when it comes to predicting behavior. Do I want to be right on this? Do I really want to find out?

It’s not really winter if it’s 80 degrees outside.

maywinWish I could hit the treadmill.

“I hate you I love you.
I hate that I I love you.
Don’t want to, but I can’t put nobody else above you.
I want you, you want her, you need her and I will never be her.”

When other relationships ended I would beat my body up on the treadmill.  It felt great to hit the belt with my new black Asics while listening to music really loud and watching Grey’s Anatomy.  I would work my way up to 3 miles in 40 mins. Not great timing, but at least I could run 3 miles.  Sweat would pour down, my face beety blotches of red, hitting the treadmill with my flat feet, pound, pound, pound, mixed with the sheesh of the belt, fight back the emotion.

Check the time, another 10 mins. gone. Ok. Slow down for 2 minutes. Speed back up and make the next mile in 12.

God I loved it.

I did that the whole summer of 2014 when I first found out about her. I would go to the gym twice a day.  Swim laps in the morning and run in the evening.  He made fun of me after I lost 27 pounds and said, “I should have told you about Jennifer sooner.” Asshole.

We didn’t talk for a month after and then I showed up Halloween night. The first time I ever showed up unannounced. He came outside and tried to have me on his car. I told him it’s cold and his neighbors could see. We went inside, I met his friend Paolo, we went upstairs and I spent the weekend at his place. She was two months at the time.

To be fair I don’t consider myself a homewrecker. I was with him for a year and a half before she entered my life.  -Under the impression we were exclusive.  He spent the holidays with me and my daughter except for Valentine’s day. He spent that weekend with us, but didn’t show up until the 15th. I would stay on the phone with him until he slept daily.  He would call several times a day.  I would get a morning call, a call during my breaks.  We had a relationship. I loved him so much then and I still love him now.

She was with someone else. She says that he was with her all the time, but there’s just no way that is possible. We spoke too much for him to have been with her.  I saw him on the weekends.  Not every weekend, though. There were breaks when he was “traveling” for work. Those weekends he was with her and his son. January 2014 I heard her voice for the first time while he was in “Boston”.  He was in the background saying, “Is that mommy?”  I called him several times, no answer. The next day he called and told me he was staying at a friend’s house in “Boston” and they have a kid. I saw him that February and then two months went by. I didn’t see him again until May and spent every weekend with him. He told me then that I should move on and start dating. The next weekend she called me. I was devastated.  Sunk into a pit of depression, fought back with running.

Then I discovered she was with another person. He showed me pictures and texts of her with someone else.  She sent me photos of them together.  His son. It was back and forth that whole summer. Anyone else would have left and I didn’t. I stayed. I told her I was expecting one night when she called to ask if he was still with me.  She was screaming, “Are you still fucking him.”  I didn’t know what to say. I shook with confusion and anger.   I told her, “I’m pregnant.”  I wanted to be. I wanted to have his child and that family.  I was 31, my clock ticking, knowing I will never be married or loved.

Then August came around. He called me.

“We have to stop seeing eachother. Jennifer is pregnant.”
“It’s yours.”
“No. It’s not. It’s Brett’s”
“So why do we have to stop seeing eachother?”
“I just want to have both of you out of my life…I…I just want to move on from all of it.”

I spoke to her. She didn’t know who the father was. I didn’t let go.  He and I texted back and forth. I cried. I wanted him back. I didn’t want to lose him. He wanted me gone. I looked her up. She was still with the other guy. His page was all about her, and the boy.  The boy even had his last name. I justified pursuing someone who didn’t love me armed with that information. I year went by with monthly drama. May 2015 came around. She was due and he was with me the entire month. I saw him more now that I had ever before.  Things were back to normal before I knew of her.  I thought she was out of our lives. Then the pregnancy test came.

He left me.

She decided she finally wanted a family with him. They were going to be a family. I was never first, but he would have stayed with me if she

-I would have been good enough. I was loyal. I was there. I wanted to give him the family he didn’t have. The unconditional love and respect.  It just wasn’t enough. He never loved me. I spent the summer listening to him rampage obscenities on the phone. Calling me every name imaginable. Screaming at me, demanding I die, abort or give her up.  All he wanted was for me to be out of his life, gone.  He didn’t care how it happened just that it happened. On the other end was her taunting me. Telling me about how he would call her and tell her he loves her. Telling me that he’d put his head on her belly and would talk to the baby that maybe he’d come around and do that for me.

Pain, pain and more pain. Overtime, I got desensitized to it, buried it and continued to pursue.  We’d connect and disconnect, months of doing this and now here I am. December, 8 months.

I can’t really run anymore, but God, today I wish I could.

 

Nights you don’t remember

 

Another day, 40+ text, at least 10 phone calls, one call back missed, doorbell rung 30 times (this is the 3rd time I’ve been this excessive), 8 months gone, 5 weeks left. Driving home reminiscing about us dancing to love songs in my living room 2 years ago. I know I have a problem. I just don’t know how to fix it. I try to think of a future where I start over and am happy.  It’s not a long-term solution.

Spent the morning crying on and off again. Took my daughter to ice skating practice. I couldn’t watch her practice. I was so depressed I stayed in the car resting and avoiding crying.  I know, I’m a terrible mother. Who cries in front of their kids? I hate when people judge me for it.  At least I accept my emotions now and don’t beat myself up for having them.  I also tell people that say that to me to fuck off. That’s progress. Right?

I’ve been researching BPD.  I think I have it. Fear of abandonment is a huge issue. I was talking to my therapist the other day. I told her, “I think I’m a narcissist or sociopath or have BPD.”
“You’re definitely not a sociopath and I don’t see you as a narcissists.” “But I stalk him.”
“We’ve talked about this. It’s not stalking…”

Notice how she didn’t say, “You don’t have BPD”. It doesn’t matter what she tells me. I stalk him. I may not wait outside his house for hours until he comes out or drive by daily or follow him places, but it’s still not healthy. It doesn’t matter if he let’s me inside most of the time and has sex with me. I still show up unannounced.

Sometimes, he’s ok with it. Opens the door. Grumbles something to the affect of “Why are you here?” and let’s me inside. Or I walk upstairs, curl up beside him and he let’s me stroke his hair while he sleeps. Those times, he turns over and holds me back. I feel loved, we make love.
Other times, he’s furious.
“I told you to get out of my life!”
” Why are you here?! Go away!”
“I want to be alone!”
“Stop coming inside!”
Then he calls his girlfriend and tells her how crazy I am for showing up to his place again. She then emails and defends him. Most of the time, I don’t defend myself. I did the last time. I texted her, when I’m on top and his phone is beside me under the pillow I wish for it to dial you by mistake so you can hear him when he cums inside of me. God, I’m such a bitch. I regret saying it. She’s not a bad person, just really stupid.

He and I are both mentally ill.  He knows I latch onto him b/c of it.  It makes me feel less guilty. I dump normal people.  I don’t want to ruin their lives with my neediness, obsession, anxiety, depression, self-loathing…Well look at that. All characteristics of BPD.

The last normal person I was with…my pushiness drove him to…do and feel a lot of things I don’t like to admit.  He started to become me.  The behaviors he started to exhibit were my fault.  At least he’s happy now, been married for 5 years, has a child and is a better person to her than he ever was to me. I don’t regret letting him go. I ruined him. Now I bet he’s in recovery.

All I want is to get married and have a family, but for the good of every man out there I know I should never be apart of anyone’s life like that.

To fight the chronic loneliness and urge to connect I’ve only allowed myself to connect with him and I do minimal damage in the process. Selfish isn’t it? If I could live in complete isolation, I would. I wish I was a good enough person to do that. I’m just a horrible person. I’ll never be fixed.