Full-Circle. The road to hell.
You know, in hindsight, I could just cut-and-paste from an EMail that I had sent out, not too long ago, but that would defeat the purpose of one of these things, wouldn't it? ...Full-circle. I fled to Texas (and let's be honest, it wasn't anything less then that,) to get away from Chicago, and all of the entanglements I had put myself into, therein. In the end, I fled Texas to Florida, for much the same reason....but much, much worse.
In my previous entry, I addressed a particular question, 'Where does one draw the line?' It's funny, but that question has been plaguing me more and more, since last week's court-hearing on a protective order against me by my now-ex-girlfriend who, in the last six months of our relationship, more or less melted down. Yes. I completely and shamelessly digress, I can be something like a drama-whore (which I suppose is like saying, 'The Titanic sprung something like a leak.') I realize that there are certain aspects to my personality to which I garner no pride, and quite a bit of shame as I reflect upon them, later and later in my life. And yes, I understand that the previous statement sounds both profoundly cynical, and profoundly pretentious. Unfortunately, it is neither.
Where *does* one draw the line, though? In a relationship that isn't simply displaying, it is SCREAMING warning-signs, signs that the person that you're with just isn't right...even though you have made an oath to yourself through both upbringing and personal experience, that you will stand beside this person...when does one compromise personal nature for personal protection? Let me break it down, not-so-gently. On multiple, multiple occasions, the ex-girlfriend in Texas would become hysterical.
I don't mean weeping and gnashing of teeth...I mean deeply paranoid, physically and verbally abusive, with threats of suicide and the statement, "You want me to die, then you HAVE TO WATCH me do it." And she tried. On one instance, she tried literally downing a bottle of pills (which later turned out to be sleeping-pills), while trying to fight off my attempts to restrain her. In the end, I had to literally pin her down, and shove my fingers down her throat (which she later in court denied taking any pills, and simply couldn't understand why I would knock her down and shove my fingers down her throat, save simply for my own, sick amusement.)
On another occasion, she became so angry with myself (and consequently a friend who was there,) that she struck me repeatedly on the side of the head, slapping me across the face and slamming me against a wall, only to try and do the same to my friend when he stepped between us. Keep in mind, however, that the friend in question is a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier then me (and her, for that matter.) When she was unable to get past him, she ran into my kitchen, pulled out one of my steak-knives, and held it with her right hand against her left wrist saying that she was going to die, and I was going to have to watch her do it. When I tried to get the knife from her (after repeatedly, gently trying to talk her down...tough with bruises on the side of one's face and fear gripping your gut,) she ended up slashing her left hand open from one end of her palm to the other. In court, she claimed that she pulled the knife because she was afraid of me, and *I* was the one who had cut her.
In February, when we were getting into an argument, I asked her rather simply, "Why are you so angry? Why do you get like this?" Her response was to punch and slap the side of my face and head, and then slam my skull against the wall of her closet. She later claimed in court that she never laid a finger on me, and I 'crushed her hand, and twisted her wrist behind her back.' Unfortunately for her, the wounds that she described involving her hand were more a swelling around the knuckles that comes from punching somebody's skull.
The final act was in May, when during the course of her hundredth demand that I leave her apartment (as we had been living together since January due to my financial situation and inability to get hired back on with Dell, and instead was stuck busting my ass with full-time hours on a part-time pay-grade,) she slammed my head against the wall, tried to hit my face, at which point I restrained her, trying to get her to calm down, to stop hitting me. At this point she raked her fingernails down the left side of my face which, when I shave, you can still see the marks.
Half of you are shaking your heads, calling me an idiot for staying. This I accept and acknowledge, wholeheartedly. The other half of you threw your hands up in disgust at the realization that I stuck around after the second incident, and haven't looked back saying, and rightfully, that I shouldn't complain if I stuck around. Again, I can't blame any of you for that reaction, either.
Funny as it might sound, I stayed with her for love. I stuck with her for responsibility, because sadly, I thought I could help. I tried. I talked to therapists, tried to get her to go, but she couldn't or wouldn't. I stayed with her because I remembered the first six months, months where yes, we argued...but it was never this bad. There were warning signs, but I was blind to them. I refused to acknowledge them, and I simply blame myself for that.
Does this mean I'm crucifying myself, saying pity me, what a horrible life I led? No. Let me say that again, for clarification: No. I am realizing my mistakes. I am recognizing that I am not able to do everything, despite as much as I would like to do, in the end. Furthermore and interestingly enough, I really have come to realize who my true friends are. My ex-girlfriend in Chicago sent an affidavit to my lawyer, claiming that, while we argued and were no longer together, I had never assaulted her, or threatened her. My friend who was witness to two of the events, the one in November and the other in December, got up on the stand for me during that hearing, and nailed my accuser's ass to the *wall*. My entire family showed up, gnawing and gnashing at the bit to get a piece of her. I've gotten calls from old friends and recent friends, alike, pledging their support, and let me tell you, it is *humbling*. It is oh-so-humbling.
I've stood up here and screamed and bitched and moaned about oh, woe is me, but this isn't about that, anymore. Maybe it never, ever was, which is particularly sad, and almost bitter-sweet. This is to my friends. This is for all of you who will read this, and also to all of you who never will. This is to my family, my sister-in-law, my grandmother and my aunt, this is to my god-parents, this is to myself. Hell, this is to my dogs, here in Florida (and I mean literal canines.) Thank you. Thank you for proving me wrong. Thank you for gripping me by my ears, and yanking my head out of my ass. Thank you for showing me that I am not an island, and I never have been.
I'm just sorry it took me 27 years and one horribly abusive relationship that almost ended up with me in jail to realize it. I always *did* tell Mom, "I do things the hard way." Maybe from now on, I'll take the easier path, now and again.
Peace.
In my previous entry, I addressed a particular question, 'Where does one draw the line?' It's funny, but that question has been plaguing me more and more, since last week's court-hearing on a protective order against me by my now-ex-girlfriend who, in the last six months of our relationship, more or less melted down. Yes. I completely and shamelessly digress, I can be something like a drama-whore (which I suppose is like saying, 'The Titanic sprung something like a leak.') I realize that there are certain aspects to my personality to which I garner no pride, and quite a bit of shame as I reflect upon them, later and later in my life. And yes, I understand that the previous statement sounds both profoundly cynical, and profoundly pretentious. Unfortunately, it is neither.
Where *does* one draw the line, though? In a relationship that isn't simply displaying, it is SCREAMING warning-signs, signs that the person that you're with just isn't right...even though you have made an oath to yourself through both upbringing and personal experience, that you will stand beside this person...when does one compromise personal nature for personal protection? Let me break it down, not-so-gently. On multiple, multiple occasions, the ex-girlfriend in Texas would become hysterical.
I don't mean weeping and gnashing of teeth...I mean deeply paranoid, physically and verbally abusive, with threats of suicide and the statement, "You want me to die, then you HAVE TO WATCH me do it." And she tried. On one instance, she tried literally downing a bottle of pills (which later turned out to be sleeping-pills), while trying to fight off my attempts to restrain her. In the end, I had to literally pin her down, and shove my fingers down her throat (which she later in court denied taking any pills, and simply couldn't understand why I would knock her down and shove my fingers down her throat, save simply for my own, sick amusement.)
On another occasion, she became so angry with myself (and consequently a friend who was there,) that she struck me repeatedly on the side of the head, slapping me across the face and slamming me against a wall, only to try and do the same to my friend when he stepped between us. Keep in mind, however, that the friend in question is a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier then me (and her, for that matter.) When she was unable to get past him, she ran into my kitchen, pulled out one of my steak-knives, and held it with her right hand against her left wrist saying that she was going to die, and I was going to have to watch her do it. When I tried to get the knife from her (after repeatedly, gently trying to talk her down...tough with bruises on the side of one's face and fear gripping your gut,) she ended up slashing her left hand open from one end of her palm to the other. In court, she claimed that she pulled the knife because she was afraid of me, and *I* was the one who had cut her.
In February, when we were getting into an argument, I asked her rather simply, "Why are you so angry? Why do you get like this?" Her response was to punch and slap the side of my face and head, and then slam my skull against the wall of her closet. She later claimed in court that she never laid a finger on me, and I 'crushed her hand, and twisted her wrist behind her back.' Unfortunately for her, the wounds that she described involving her hand were more a swelling around the knuckles that comes from punching somebody's skull.
The final act was in May, when during the course of her hundredth demand that I leave her apartment (as we had been living together since January due to my financial situation and inability to get hired back on with Dell, and instead was stuck busting my ass with full-time hours on a part-time pay-grade,) she slammed my head against the wall, tried to hit my face, at which point I restrained her, trying to get her to calm down, to stop hitting me. At this point she raked her fingernails down the left side of my face which, when I shave, you can still see the marks.
Half of you are shaking your heads, calling me an idiot for staying. This I accept and acknowledge, wholeheartedly. The other half of you threw your hands up in disgust at the realization that I stuck around after the second incident, and haven't looked back saying, and rightfully, that I shouldn't complain if I stuck around. Again, I can't blame any of you for that reaction, either.
Funny as it might sound, I stayed with her for love. I stuck with her for responsibility, because sadly, I thought I could help. I tried. I talked to therapists, tried to get her to go, but she couldn't or wouldn't. I stayed with her because I remembered the first six months, months where yes, we argued...but it was never this bad. There were warning signs, but I was blind to them. I refused to acknowledge them, and I simply blame myself for that.
Does this mean I'm crucifying myself, saying pity me, what a horrible life I led? No. Let me say that again, for clarification: No. I am realizing my mistakes. I am recognizing that I am not able to do everything, despite as much as I would like to do, in the end. Furthermore and interestingly enough, I really have come to realize who my true friends are. My ex-girlfriend in Chicago sent an affidavit to my lawyer, claiming that, while we argued and were no longer together, I had never assaulted her, or threatened her. My friend who was witness to two of the events, the one in November and the other in December, got up on the stand for me during that hearing, and nailed my accuser's ass to the *wall*. My entire family showed up, gnawing and gnashing at the bit to get a piece of her. I've gotten calls from old friends and recent friends, alike, pledging their support, and let me tell you, it is *humbling*. It is oh-so-humbling.
I've stood up here and screamed and bitched and moaned about oh, woe is me, but this isn't about that, anymore. Maybe it never, ever was, which is particularly sad, and almost bitter-sweet. This is to my friends. This is for all of you who will read this, and also to all of you who never will. This is to my family, my sister-in-law, my grandmother and my aunt, this is to my god-parents, this is to myself. Hell, this is to my dogs, here in Florida (and I mean literal canines.) Thank you. Thank you for proving me wrong. Thank you for gripping me by my ears, and yanking my head out of my ass. Thank you for showing me that I am not an island, and I never have been.
I'm just sorry it took me 27 years and one horribly abusive relationship that almost ended up with me in jail to realize it. I always *did* tell Mom, "I do things the hard way." Maybe from now on, I'll take the easier path, now and again.
Peace.