Escaping the Noose of a Morose Existence...
Here I am. This is the paragraph where I would normally apologize for fading away from my blog for about a year, but I won't this time. This was, without a doubt, the year of my life I sifted, nearly drowned in the shittiest, most depression time of my life. And I didn't want to write about it because I couldn't see the future... my sight was blurry for much of the year. I was stuck in a tunnel of nothingness where I had to traipse through every melancholy day the best that I could and hope things would eventually get better.
Let me generally summarize my life from October 2016 - November 2017.
Things had been on the final limb of my relationship for much of the year, looking back now, but I clung to my everlasting optimism like a security blanket I had long outgrown. I think I touched on many of our final issues two entries prior, but when the end grew closer, I clearly saw the abuse I had for such a long time evaded. Emotional tirades, rape, physical abuse... I'll never forget one of our final conversations after he yelled at me incessantly so I broke into tears.
"So what you're saying is that you want to be in a relationship with someone you can yell, hit, and rape who will just take a beating because you are "sick?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm not going to be that person anymore. I don't deserve to be treated like that whether you are 'sick' or otherwise. Our marriage is over."
Derek moved out October 8th, 2016. He went to live with some smelly, disgusting swingers he met through one of our mutual friends. I tutored this woman's son a year prior, so I had been to their house frequently. The house they lived in was an eyesore; it looked unsteady, disheveled and about as secure as a drunk on an alcoholic binge. It had the stench of 200 dogs because they never took care of the animals that lived there. I remember I went over to play games one time and one of the dogs slobbered and chewed on my purse. I took the purse home and febreezed in 100 times to salvage it, because it was somewhat a designer purse from Gabriel Brothers. But anyway, if he wanted to live there, then fine. My goal was to move as fast as possible to a safe place where I wouldn't be bothered or emotionally abused anymore.
But it wasn't a fast move for me. I couldn't find anywhere to live in October. The only place I could find to live was a "studio" apartment. These poor accommodations were a section of a shed the landlord converted into an apartment. It didn't have heat, the door didn't line up with the door jam... it was just another hot mess in my life. The landlord, which called himself a Pirate Cowboy, was a colorful character in this tale, but I soon learned that he somehow was enamored by me and became my number one perverse, stalker during this time when I needed more stability, quiet and privacy in my life not more crazy. The stories are worthy of their own entry, for another time.
Also, imagine living as an artist for 10 + years. I have a lot of stuff, it's just my reality. I have costumes, props, sewing stuff, fabric... but also don't forget I'm a teacher so I have a lot of unique items I use for work. Regardless, the move took about 6 months for me. I asked friends for help, and I'm thankful to the three people who stepped up, but I also battled sadness because I have way more friends than three people... and I later found out that many of my "friends" were resentful that I had even asked for help. By default, during this difficult time, I learned who my friends were and those who weren't... and the results were surprising and even somewhat heart-breaking. Even stable areas I turned to for support, like acting with The Wandering Fools, would never be the same again once I made it to the other side of this process.
Around the New Year, I still wasn't moved out of the house. So then Derek started sending me emotionally abusive text messages. Later in the middle of winter, he decided to put the rest of my belongings outside in a shed and locked me out of the house. I remember calling him in tears, begging for access to the house because I just wanted a warm place to stay, a warm shower, a place to do my laundry. He refused to give me these provisions. He also told me that he was soon planning to cancel my cell phone and that he had already cancelled my car insurance without giving me any opportunity to change it over. One top of that, he ran up an energy bill to $400 that was in my name. What an asshole, he has honestly made every step of the divorce process a living nightmare for me. This is what happens when you're trying to break free of a controlling, emotionally abusive relationship with a narcissist. Each incident reminded me of a flashback where he told me I was worthless because I didn't make as much money, wasn't as smart or good at things as he was... so on top of battling the present, I found myself being beat up by memories of the past.
Around the same time as all this happened, everything also fell apart with my ex-boyfriend... and even nine months later I sometimes teeter between healthily accepting this loss and wistfully remembering a few good times and missing our relationship. We had (and still have) a strong emotional connection, and I think he was so emotionally distant in his other relationship that this emotional connection was both exciting but scary. I have a good poly-therapist, so through processing everything I saw that our relationship had so many red flags. A sad truth of life is that you can love someone but ultimately realize that you can't be in a healthy relationship with them. Life sucks sometimes.
So I met my ex- boyfriend online almost four years ago. We had a lot of things in common including that we are both teachers and to our surprise we were even in the SCA and the same reenactment groups. I think I've written some previous entries about our good times, how well we had gotten along, etc.
So when we first met, I'll never forget that I asked him a question, "Why are you looking for other relationships?" His response, "I'm lonely." And I didn't realize the magnitude of that statement until I learned more about his long-term partner.
So, I'm going to say the following disclaimer. I've been learning about polyamory since I lightly experimented with the lifestyle back in high school (14ish years ago). Among many things, I've found that I actually like polyamory because I enjoy interacting with metamours. My favorite situation would be when you get to know a metamour and even develop a friendship with them, hang out together, or talk.
So naturally when my boyfriend told me all about his other partner, I wanted to meet them right away. My boyfriend proceeded to tell me that his partner was spending a month in London. A month passed, I asked again if I could meet his partner. He told me his partner flew back to Oklahoma to be with their other partner, their sister, nieces, and family and had no foreseeable future return date. I settled for becoming friends with this partner on Facebook, which I don't exactly feel is a replacement for meeting in person. But while they were away, my boyfriend and I grew closer together. I met his friends, family, we went to events together. People were accustomed to see me by his side while his partner was absent; my abusive, sick husband only wanted to sleep and yell at me, so I frequently escaped on adventures with Rahtol, and it almost seemed like we were primary partner for two years.
Without getting into too many details, I found that my boyfriend and I had a huge difference in our communication styles. So I've always been the type of communicator that lays all my cards on the table, I want to talk about everything past, present and future. I want to talk about my emotions, I ask the difficult questions, I want see and to work through everything. He is very closed, reserved and one of those "I'll only provide information if you ask me questions where I need to provide those answers." And even sometimes I'd ask direct, concise questions because many situations with his other partner made very little logical sense to me, and he'd give me the shortest, most evasive answer possible. It always was a red flag to me.
Well, two years came and went. After Pennsic last year he told me that his partner was finally returning to Baltimore. The eagerness that I had initially felt to live in close proximity to them had faded away. I felt the pain of loss, because I knew that even if we tried to work on transitioning into a new relationship, things would never be like what we had cultivated these past years. My boyfriend dealt with my grief in a callus, stern way, which in turn made me angry. This reaction made me feel I was a placeholder while his partner lived astray. I feared that as easily as I was gained, I would discarded upon their return.
Okay, so I acknowledge and own my emotions. I could have worked through my grieving process if this was the only change. But the situation got even more complicated a few days later.
I remember that Rahtol and I had the greatest day. We visited Fort Ligonier, which we had always wanted to see. Our day was picturesque; we climbed atop the hill beside the fort afterward and took in the breathtaking view. Still feeling in the mood for exploring other historical sites, we drove to Pittsburgh to walk around where the old fort Pitt had once stood. It was a beautiful, clear summer evening by the point park fountain. Across the river, Hozier played a soulful, rich concert at AE Stage in Pittsburgh. We could hear every word as we danced together, talked and enjoyed our final romantic evening before our relationship changed forever.
At the conclusion of the night, we traveled back to Pennsic to cuddle. He didn't really have an air mattress or sleeping accommodations for two people, so I laid uncomfortably on the ground. I heard a strange critter scurrying about, so I hugged him closer. My hand slipped and I accidentally squeezed his butt while he was sleeping deeply.
It was totally an accident, but at the same time, I didn’t really think of it as a big deal. I mean, when you are sleeping beside someone you normally hug, kiss and touch them. But the moment I accidentally touched his butt triggered a severe panic attack for Rahtol.
Rahtol started trembling and screaming shrill, “No…NO… NO!” He started kicking, flailing, and screamed “STOP. LEAVE ME ALONE.” with the highest fervor I had ever witness from a quiet, always soft-spoken guy.
I was stunned beyond comparison. No words could escape my mouth until I finally uttered, “What the FUCK is wrong with you? There is no reason to yell at me like that.” I started to look around for my cloak and said, “I’m leaving.”
I think he saw how upset and shocked I was and he started to feel guilty that our amazing night together ended on a negative note. He softly muttered, “I’m sorry, please stay.”
I was fed up and determined to leave. Again I demanded, “Tell me what's going on. You literally had a panic attack just because I accidently touched you. That’s not right.”
He finally realized that he had backed himself into a corner that he couldn’t easily get out of. Rathol said, “Okay. I’ll tell you. If I do though, you have to promise not to get mad at my partner.”
I mistakenly responded, “OK…” Then he told me, through tears, about a situation that happened between them.
I learned that Rathol was not originally polyamorous. He got in a relationship with his partner and was introduced to the lifestyle in that manner. Apparently he became entwined with someone who talked him into having sex without a condom. Afterward, he told his partner, got some STI tests done and things turned out okay.
His partner, however, became enraged because their rule was that they would always use a condom with other partners. She apparently had a jar and some tools and threatened to castrate Rathol. She threatened him and told him if he couldn’t use his cock the right way, he didn’t deserve to have it at all. At this point, he stopped as if he were still haunted by this memory… he refused to continue talking. I held him tightly while he sobbed in my arms.
I felt that sort of pain, shock, stunning sensation you feel when someone punches you in the face unexpectedly. Like you get hit so quickly, so hard, that at first you feel numbness that gives way to anger and an amphoral pain that reverberates in your heart any time you are in the presence of the person who abused the person you love.
I didn’t leave. I held him throughout the night. Then I walked away the following day with a new perspective on everything.
There are many questions I could ask, many thoughts were floating throughout my mind… but ultimately I couldn’t reason why a person would keep a partner in their life that put them through that severe trauma. Even though Rathol didn’t have the backbone to leave this abusive relationship, and that's not something I would ask anyone to do anyway... I could make a conscience choice not to interact with her anymore.
And I’m still upset to this day… they both moved forward like nothing ever happened. I still cannot figure why he doesn’t value himself enough to have a conversation with her about the situation. I don’t understand how he can feel safe, loved, and secure in the house with someone who would lash out erratically. It bothered me so much, and I know it also festered a lot of negativity in me… and the combination of everything I was going through ultimately led to us breaking up right before my birthday last March. Ratho told me he was giving up because seeing me go through everything with my ex-husband was too much for him. I knew that I should have broken up with him back in September when I found out about his abusive relationship, because likewise it was too much for me to process… and I didn’t feel like I could ethically support a polyamorous relationship in this situation. No matter how many people try to say that the relationships with metamours have nothing to do with your relationship with a partner, it simply isn’t true. I don’t believe it’s ethical to run to another relationship when your primary relationship is an absolute mess.
I say that, but essentially, but I acknowledge that’s what I did too. I had problems with my marriage that I didn’t want to address, so I ran to someone else instead of dealing with my husband I ran to Ratho, who provided me with a consistent escape from my abusive reality.
Anyway, Ratho and I are working on being friends again. We work together at the same school, so it's not like we will stop seeing each other, unless one of us finds another job. It’s alsoa difficult process because his abusive partner is still around, and knowing that still stokes fires of anger in my heart. But we’re still working on it. It’s also difficult to be friends with someone who ultimately abandoned me during one of the most difficult times of my life. It is going to take a while to repair our damaged friendship.
It’s sad when you know you fundamentally love someone but you simply can’t be together because you’re hugely incompatible due to personality, life circumstance, or whatever else. Sometimes I teeter into wishing we were in a relationship again, because we got along great, had many common interests, and did a lot of cool things together. However, I remember that he values me less than the bitch that said she’d castrate him… and that reminds me that I don’t want to try to be in a relationship again. Thankfully, I'm mentally healthy enough to see how bad both of these relationships were for me. I need to move on.
Let me generally summarize my life from October 2016 - November 2017.
Things had been on the final limb of my relationship for much of the year, looking back now, but I clung to my everlasting optimism like a security blanket I had long outgrown. I think I touched on many of our final issues two entries prior, but when the end grew closer, I clearly saw the abuse I had for such a long time evaded. Emotional tirades, rape, physical abuse... I'll never forget one of our final conversations after he yelled at me incessantly so I broke into tears.
"So what you're saying is that you want to be in a relationship with someone you can yell, hit, and rape who will just take a beating because you are "sick?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm not going to be that person anymore. I don't deserve to be treated like that whether you are 'sick' or otherwise. Our marriage is over."
Derek moved out October 8th, 2016. He went to live with some smelly, disgusting swingers he met through one of our mutual friends. I tutored this woman's son a year prior, so I had been to their house frequently. The house they lived in was an eyesore; it looked unsteady, disheveled and about as secure as a drunk on an alcoholic binge. It had the stench of 200 dogs because they never took care of the animals that lived there. I remember I went over to play games one time and one of the dogs slobbered and chewed on my purse. I took the purse home and febreezed in 100 times to salvage it, because it was somewhat a designer purse from Gabriel Brothers. But anyway, if he wanted to live there, then fine. My goal was to move as fast as possible to a safe place where I wouldn't be bothered or emotionally abused anymore.
But it wasn't a fast move for me. I couldn't find anywhere to live in October. The only place I could find to live was a "studio" apartment. These poor accommodations were a section of a shed the landlord converted into an apartment. It didn't have heat, the door didn't line up with the door jam... it was just another hot mess in my life. The landlord, which called himself a Pirate Cowboy, was a colorful character in this tale, but I soon learned that he somehow was enamored by me and became my number one perverse, stalker during this time when I needed more stability, quiet and privacy in my life not more crazy. The stories are worthy of their own entry, for another time.
Also, imagine living as an artist for 10 + years. I have a lot of stuff, it's just my reality. I have costumes, props, sewing stuff, fabric... but also don't forget I'm a teacher so I have a lot of unique items I use for work. Regardless, the move took about 6 months for me. I asked friends for help, and I'm thankful to the three people who stepped up, but I also battled sadness because I have way more friends than three people... and I later found out that many of my "friends" were resentful that I had even asked for help. By default, during this difficult time, I learned who my friends were and those who weren't... and the results were surprising and even somewhat heart-breaking. Even stable areas I turned to for support, like acting with The Wandering Fools, would never be the same again once I made it to the other side of this process.
Around the New Year, I still wasn't moved out of the house. So then Derek started sending me emotionally abusive text messages. Later in the middle of winter, he decided to put the rest of my belongings outside in a shed and locked me out of the house. I remember calling him in tears, begging for access to the house because I just wanted a warm place to stay, a warm shower, a place to do my laundry. He refused to give me these provisions. He also told me that he was soon planning to cancel my cell phone and that he had already cancelled my car insurance without giving me any opportunity to change it over. One top of that, he ran up an energy bill to $400 that was in my name. What an asshole, he has honestly made every step of the divorce process a living nightmare for me. This is what happens when you're trying to break free of a controlling, emotionally abusive relationship with a narcissist. Each incident reminded me of a flashback where he told me I was worthless because I didn't make as much money, wasn't as smart or good at things as he was... so on top of battling the present, I found myself being beat up by memories of the past.
Around the same time as all this happened, everything also fell apart with my ex-boyfriend... and even nine months later I sometimes teeter between healthily accepting this loss and wistfully remembering a few good times and missing our relationship. We had (and still have) a strong emotional connection, and I think he was so emotionally distant in his other relationship that this emotional connection was both exciting but scary. I have a good poly-therapist, so through processing everything I saw that our relationship had so many red flags. A sad truth of life is that you can love someone but ultimately realize that you can't be in a healthy relationship with them. Life sucks sometimes.
So I met my ex- boyfriend online almost four years ago. We had a lot of things in common including that we are both teachers and to our surprise we were even in the SCA and the same reenactment groups. I think I've written some previous entries about our good times, how well we had gotten along, etc.
So when we first met, I'll never forget that I asked him a question, "Why are you looking for other relationships?" His response, "I'm lonely." And I didn't realize the magnitude of that statement until I learned more about his long-term partner.
So, I'm going to say the following disclaimer. I've been learning about polyamory since I lightly experimented with the lifestyle back in high school (14ish years ago). Among many things, I've found that I actually like polyamory because I enjoy interacting with metamours. My favorite situation would be when you get to know a metamour and even develop a friendship with them, hang out together, or talk.
So naturally when my boyfriend told me all about his other partner, I wanted to meet them right away. My boyfriend proceeded to tell me that his partner was spending a month in London. A month passed, I asked again if I could meet his partner. He told me his partner flew back to Oklahoma to be with their other partner, their sister, nieces, and family and had no foreseeable future return date. I settled for becoming friends with this partner on Facebook, which I don't exactly feel is a replacement for meeting in person. But while they were away, my boyfriend and I grew closer together. I met his friends, family, we went to events together. People were accustomed to see me by his side while his partner was absent; my abusive, sick husband only wanted to sleep and yell at me, so I frequently escaped on adventures with Rahtol, and it almost seemed like we were primary partner for two years.
Without getting into too many details, I found that my boyfriend and I had a huge difference in our communication styles. So I've always been the type of communicator that lays all my cards on the table, I want to talk about everything past, present and future. I want to talk about my emotions, I ask the difficult questions, I want see and to work through everything. He is very closed, reserved and one of those "I'll only provide information if you ask me questions where I need to provide those answers." And even sometimes I'd ask direct, concise questions because many situations with his other partner made very little logical sense to me, and he'd give me the shortest, most evasive answer possible. It always was a red flag to me.
Well, two years came and went. After Pennsic last year he told me that his partner was finally returning to Baltimore. The eagerness that I had initially felt to live in close proximity to them had faded away. I felt the pain of loss, because I knew that even if we tried to work on transitioning into a new relationship, things would never be like what we had cultivated these past years. My boyfriend dealt with my grief in a callus, stern way, which in turn made me angry. This reaction made me feel I was a placeholder while his partner lived astray. I feared that as easily as I was gained, I would discarded upon their return.
Okay, so I acknowledge and own my emotions. I could have worked through my grieving process if this was the only change. But the situation got even more complicated a few days later.
I remember that Rahtol and I had the greatest day. We visited Fort Ligonier, which we had always wanted to see. Our day was picturesque; we climbed atop the hill beside the fort afterward and took in the breathtaking view. Still feeling in the mood for exploring other historical sites, we drove to Pittsburgh to walk around where the old fort Pitt had once stood. It was a beautiful, clear summer evening by the point park fountain. Across the river, Hozier played a soulful, rich concert at AE Stage in Pittsburgh. We could hear every word as we danced together, talked and enjoyed our final romantic evening before our relationship changed forever.
At the conclusion of the night, we traveled back to Pennsic to cuddle. He didn't really have an air mattress or sleeping accommodations for two people, so I laid uncomfortably on the ground. I heard a strange critter scurrying about, so I hugged him closer. My hand slipped and I accidentally squeezed his butt while he was sleeping deeply.
It was totally an accident, but at the same time, I didn’t really think of it as a big deal. I mean, when you are sleeping beside someone you normally hug, kiss and touch them. But the moment I accidentally touched his butt triggered a severe panic attack for Rahtol.
Rahtol started trembling and screaming shrill, “No…NO… NO!” He started kicking, flailing, and screamed “STOP. LEAVE ME ALONE.” with the highest fervor I had ever witness from a quiet, always soft-spoken guy.
I was stunned beyond comparison. No words could escape my mouth until I finally uttered, “What the FUCK is wrong with you? There is no reason to yell at me like that.” I started to look around for my cloak and said, “I’m leaving.”
I think he saw how upset and shocked I was and he started to feel guilty that our amazing night together ended on a negative note. He softly muttered, “I’m sorry, please stay.”
I was fed up and determined to leave. Again I demanded, “Tell me what's going on. You literally had a panic attack just because I accidently touched you. That’s not right.”
He finally realized that he had backed himself into a corner that he couldn’t easily get out of. Rathol said, “Okay. I’ll tell you. If I do though, you have to promise not to get mad at my partner.”
I mistakenly responded, “OK…” Then he told me, through tears, about a situation that happened between them.
I learned that Rathol was not originally polyamorous. He got in a relationship with his partner and was introduced to the lifestyle in that manner. Apparently he became entwined with someone who talked him into having sex without a condom. Afterward, he told his partner, got some STI tests done and things turned out okay.
His partner, however, became enraged because their rule was that they would always use a condom with other partners. She apparently had a jar and some tools and threatened to castrate Rathol. She threatened him and told him if he couldn’t use his cock the right way, he didn’t deserve to have it at all. At this point, he stopped as if he were still haunted by this memory… he refused to continue talking. I held him tightly while he sobbed in my arms.
I felt that sort of pain, shock, stunning sensation you feel when someone punches you in the face unexpectedly. Like you get hit so quickly, so hard, that at first you feel numbness that gives way to anger and an amphoral pain that reverberates in your heart any time you are in the presence of the person who abused the person you love.
I didn’t leave. I held him throughout the night. Then I walked away the following day with a new perspective on everything.
There are many questions I could ask, many thoughts were floating throughout my mind… but ultimately I couldn’t reason why a person would keep a partner in their life that put them through that severe trauma. Even though Rathol didn’t have the backbone to leave this abusive relationship, and that's not something I would ask anyone to do anyway... I could make a conscience choice not to interact with her anymore.
And I’m still upset to this day… they both moved forward like nothing ever happened. I still cannot figure why he doesn’t value himself enough to have a conversation with her about the situation. I don’t understand how he can feel safe, loved, and secure in the house with someone who would lash out erratically. It bothered me so much, and I know it also festered a lot of negativity in me… and the combination of everything I was going through ultimately led to us breaking up right before my birthday last March. Ratho told me he was giving up because seeing me go through everything with my ex-husband was too much for him. I knew that I should have broken up with him back in September when I found out about his abusive relationship, because likewise it was too much for me to process… and I didn’t feel like I could ethically support a polyamorous relationship in this situation. No matter how many people try to say that the relationships with metamours have nothing to do with your relationship with a partner, it simply isn’t true. I don’t believe it’s ethical to run to another relationship when your primary relationship is an absolute mess.
I say that, but essentially, but I acknowledge that’s what I did too. I had problems with my marriage that I didn’t want to address, so I ran to someone else instead of dealing with my husband I ran to Ratho, who provided me with a consistent escape from my abusive reality.
Anyway, Ratho and I are working on being friends again. We work together at the same school, so it's not like we will stop seeing each other, unless one of us finds another job. It’s alsoa difficult process because his abusive partner is still around, and knowing that still stokes fires of anger in my heart. But we’re still working on it. It’s also difficult to be friends with someone who ultimately abandoned me during one of the most difficult times of my life. It is going to take a while to repair our damaged friendship.
It’s sad when you know you fundamentally love someone but you simply can’t be together because you’re hugely incompatible due to personality, life circumstance, or whatever else. Sometimes I teeter into wishing we were in a relationship again, because we got along great, had many common interests, and did a lot of cool things together. However, I remember that he values me less than the bitch that said she’d castrate him… and that reminds me that I don’t want to try to be in a relationship again. Thankfully, I'm mentally healthy enough to see how bad both of these relationships were for me. I need to move on.