I’ve written several posts lately that did not exactly follow suit with previous thoughts and ideas that I’ve held. Well, it now appears that those posts were a waste of time, typing, and emotion. Alas, the Mic is back, and the whole world can go fuck itself.
I’d been writing about regrets, about mistakes, about moments of true bliss. I have now discovered that the entire series of events was nothing more than an illusion. Love, fidelity, and happily ever after is just as much a myth now as they were when I first started writing this blog.
Allow me to explain. If you’ve been following, you are already familiar with the story. I was in a relationship with a woman whom for I cared very deeply. For several months it was absolutely perfect. Then things suddenly and rapidly spiraled out of control. There were lies told; from both sides, and trust broken; mostly my trust in her, although in her mind she has concocted quite an intricate version of how she believes things transpired and how she lost trust in me.
It was a tough relationship to begin with. There were many complications that would need to be overcome. For one, I was separated from my wife–for those who have followed this blog, you’ll remember her as the one who broke my neck whilst throwing a temper tantrum because she wasn’t getting her way, which in turn ended with a phone being thrown at me as I lay in bed with my back turned to her–Another obstacle was that I have three children. Children whom I love and would do anything for.
But this woman I was dating assured me that she didn’t care about my soon-to-be ex nor that I had children. She was perfectly fine with it and would have no difficulty at all handling the difficulties that would lie ahead.
As I said, things went along so well for the first several months. We took a trip to Tennessee, I indulged in her love of country music (a genre I cannot stand) saw more movies together than I’d gone to in the last ten years combined, and generally felt absolutely perfect.
Unfortunately, as with all divorces, there was ugliness. My children were constantly being hurt by thing that my soon-to-be ex was doing as a result of her trying to hurt me. This culminated in what I now refer to as “the incident.” The moment of weakness when I believed that if I simply removed myself from the picture, my children wouldn’t be caught in the middle anymore. Hey, I didn’t say it was fucking rational. I said it was a moment of weakness. Fuck off.
As either a blessing or a curse of the Fates, I managed to survive an extreme overdose of Norco that, theoretically should have kept me asleep long enough to cause permanent, irreversible, and lethal damage … Not from the opiate portion, from the extreme overdose of acetaminophen that comes along with the Norco. I had done my research. I’ve been on Norco for so long, it was highly unlikely that it would kill me. It was meant to put me to sleep long enough so that the eight-hour window you have to administer “the antidote” would close. Within a few days, the overdose of acetaminophen would essential turn my liver to stone and, I would be gone. I don’t fuck around. When I plan to do something, I plan it out well, I do my research.
Again, as either a blessing or curse, I was found wandering aimlessly in sandals, running pants, no shirt and unzipped hoodie in the middle of the winter either by the police or by the police station. Not the one three blocks from my house, mind you. No, I was taken in to one that was about a mile and a half away. Babbling incoherently, so I was told.
From there I was taken to the hospital, blood was drawn, toxicology reports were received, and I was administered “the antidote” as they called it. Personally, I would have called it the pink liquid that smelled like rotten eggs and tasted even worse.
I was in and out from there. But a shrink did visit and ask if I had done it on purpose. I actually laughed and asked him if he was really asking me if I had taken that many pills on accident. He said if I had taken them on purpose, then I would have to be admitted the psych ward. Again laughing, I told him yes, it was an accident, fully believing that I was about to be committed. Instead, he merely wrote something down on the chart and I never saw him again. What can I say? It was Swedish Covenant Hospital. They’re not exactly known for their competence in care.
So off we go. They keep taking my blood every half hour or so to make sure that whatever levels they were looking for were dropping and eventually I was released. I ended up having to walk back home, having no cell phone nor anyone’s number memorized to have them pick me up. Not that I would have called anyways. It wasn’t exactly something I wanted anyone to know about.
When I finally got home, I saw my phone had several missed texts and phone calls from my girlfriend. That was when the reality really began to sink in. The reality of what I had just tried to do and how it could have affected other people who I cared for.
Unfortunately for me, she showed up completely unannounced before I was even able to take off the fucking patches the hospital had wired all over my body. If I had time, I would have taken care of that, gotten cleaned up, and blamed my lack of responses to her texts and phone calls to something mundane such as feeling ill and going to sleep early.
Alas, it didn’t happen that way. She found out and was shocked. She said she did not see it coming, saw no indication that I was that upset, depressed, etc … And for several weeks never left me alone for fear I would try it again.
And that’s about when it started …
She began asking questions about how I was acting, how I was dealing with the withdrawals, since I had taken the entire bottle and now had nothing left. All I said to her was that everything was going to be fine, I had it under control, and to trust me.
She chose not to. Instead, she asked the doctor she worked for about my situation. Having asked no questions about how long I long I had been on the medication, how big I was, had I eaten anything, did I take it with water or alcohol, etc … he said it was impossible that I took the amount that I did. I, and I quote, “wouldn’t even be able to walk with that much Norco coursing through my system.” For her, that meant that I was lying and was trying to do it for attention. For me, it meant that the doctor, like many I have encountered, was a fucking moron who didn’t even to bother to ask anything about the situation.
Not the first moronic doctor I had encountered. Four years ago, when the symptoms in my arm started to flare up, I asked my doctor whether it could just be a pinched nerve up in my neck, because my neck felt very uncomfortable. He said it was absolutely not related to my neck, it was in my arm. Three years later, lo and behold, it was in my neck. Yes, as pompous as doctors can be, they are just human, and can just as fucking ignorant as everyone else.
Sadly, this led to a significant breach of trust. I often gave my condo key to my girlfriend to allow her to go there and hang out until I got off work. She already once gone through my things when I wasn’t there, yet I continued to trust her. That was a mistake, for now she believed that I hadn’t overdosed at all, and I had somehow created a falsified toxicology report, and that, again, I was just looking for attention. So she began to search through my things again.
Psychology 101 in regards to suicidal individuals … There are two types. Those who want to kill themselves, and those who are merely looking for help and/or attention. The difference? Those who are looking for attention/help will tell/email/text/Facebook people that they are planning to kill themselves, they want to kill themselves, etc … Those who actually want to do it, don’t tell anyone anything, because they don’t want anyone to stop them. Based entirely on the fact that my girlfriend was absolutely shocked, had no idea I was feeling that way, and had only found out because she showed up unannounced pretty well shoots holes through that theory.
But she was right about one thing. I was not showing any indications of withdrawals. And upon searching, she found that I, indeed, did have a few pills. I had told her to trust me, that I had it under control. She chose not to, and found the pills.
I lied to her, at first playing off that they were a different medication, and then telling another lie that she doesn’t even know about. She was not quite the detective she thought she was.
The pills she found were 5mg of Vicodin. I, on the other hand, was on 10mg of Norco. Ergo, the pills she found were not mine. I knew several people who had painkillers and I asked if I could have a few. It was not enough to cover the pain, but it at least staved off the withdrawals until I could get my prescription refilled. I was far more worried about that then the pain.
I simply told her that when I dumped the pills on the table and started to take them, some of them fell to the floor. When I came home the next morning, I found them and was using them to get by, which was why I told her to just trust me. It was a lie, but as I saw it, she betrayed my trust for a second time. When you are asked to trust someone because they do not wish for you to know something and you break that trust, you don’t exactly get to blame them for lying to try to protect their secret.
For a while, things seemed somewhat decent, but it was clear that a decline was underway. I caught her lying about telling ex-boyfriend that she and I were not doing well. Oddly enough, to try to prove that she didn’t say it, she called him on speaker phone with me there. Unfortunately for her, he confirmed that she said it. I don’t know exactly what her plan was, maybe that he would have been too drunk to remember, but it certainly blew up in her face. What followed was about a dozen explanations as to why she did what she did. It started with “Well, I must have said it, but I don’t remember saying it,” and continued to change significantly over the next several days until it was just dropped.
We took some time apart. During that time, I came the conclusion that she simply wasn’t capable of handling the complications of our relationship. From the start, she repeatedly said that I was using her to get attention from my soon-to-be ex. I repeatedly assured her that it wasn’t true. But something that was true was that every time I had my kids, and thus wasn’t with her, she was out drinking … with her ex-boyfriend. It didn’t bother me. She said they were simply friends now. So I trusted in that, even though I was warned repeatedly that I shouldn’t. Her ex-boyfriend, himself, claims that they slept together while we were dating.
We got back together, but decided to take it slow. And that is where the floor fell out from under me. The hospital sent a bill to the address where my soon-to-be ex lived. For whatever reason, as she always put my mail aside, she opened it. Inside was the bill as well as pamphlet on how to cope with depression and suicidal thoughts. That’s when her lawyer got involved.
Being that she was still authorized to see my medical records (something I have since changed) she found out about what happened. What followed was a court order that I was not allowed to have my children overnight without her supervision, as I was considered “a potential danger to myself and others.”
So I had two choices. I could see my kids if I went to her apartment, which wasn’t going to happen because I had zero desire to set foot in that hell hole anymore. My other option was that I could have the kids over at my place, but only if she stayed as well. I purchased an inflatable mattress for myself and chose option B.
This created a huge problem as my girlfriend had now turned into the crazy psychotic stalker of a girlfriend that everyone had warned me about in the beginning. She would drive past my house and see that my soon-to-be ex wife’s car was parked there. She actually sat in the parking lot the entire night to see when the car would leave.
When she saw that the car stayed all night, she confronted me about it and I honestly was at a loss. First, because of the psychotic issue of sitting in a parking lot across the street all night, and second, because I didn’t know what to tell her. I couldn’t tell her that there was a court order due to “the incident” because she, with the extraordinary amount knowledge she had gained in the few months she had been working as essentially a receptionist/filer for a doctor’s office of everything that has to do with depression and suicidal individuals, that “the incident” never occurred.
Try to keep track. Not only did I manage to have someone create a falsified toxicology report, I would now have, in her eyes, had to create a falsified court order.
I told her the only thing that I could think of. That she wasn’t there. She had dropped the car off and asked me to take it the mechanic. That was actually true. The lie was that she was actually there. And due to that court order, she was there quite often after that. Was she doing it because she knew it would fuck up my relationship with my girlfriend? Absolutely. Was my girlfriend intelligent enough to figure that out? No. She much rather enjoyed playing the victim. She was being used so that I could get attention from my soon-to be ex. She even went so far as to say that I was having sex with her.
That made perfect sense. I hadn’t slept with my wife for over year before I left. Now, almost eight months after I leave her and have a girlfriend, I’m having sex with her? I’ll admit, her version is quite a story. Not an interesting one. But quite a story just the same.
We ended up breaking things off, more or less. She would show up every once in a while for what she was called “booty calls,” but she didn’t consider us together anymore. I, for one, never considered them “booty calls.” I considered them to be us trying to work things out.
That’s when the real insanity started. She told me that she was offered a job down in Florida, but not to tell anyone because she hadn’t even told her best friend about it. Odd, but whatever. I told her to weigh the pros and cons, that moving to Florida is a great opportunity, especially if they are moving you, and it could be a great thing. You never know.
When decision time came, she told me that she decided to take the job. I told her I was happy for her. Then, suddenly she didn’t take the job. She decided to recant her acceptance and stay here. Personally, I don’t believe the job ever existed. I think she was just trying to see what I would say.
During this time, I was running into a financial situation that was forcing me to move. I didn’t have many options. The one I was leaning towards was moving back with my kids and sleeping on the couch. I had slept on the couch for eight months before I left, so it wouldn’t be difficult to do again. I believe that this is what instigated both the Florida lie and the next lie to come.
Not long after the Florida job situation, she told me she thought she was pregnant. I said we should find out. Come to my work tonight and we can take a test. I bought two tests, she came over, took one, said she threw the other one away, and told me that it was negative. We talked for a while, I joked about how beautiful and intelligent a child of ours would have been, we hugged, and she left.
Then I get a text later that she had lied to me. She had taken a test during the day and it was positive. Then she smuggled someone else’s urine in to fake a negative test just in case I wanted to see it. Now believing that nothing was she was saying was true, I went back to work, had the porter pull the garbage from the women’s restrooms and locker rooms, and lo and behold, no tests at all.
I confronted her with this and she claimed that she didn’t actually throw them away, she put them in her wristlet. Hmmmmmm … Another very odd thing, don’t you think?
So I told her we should go to the doctor and just find out for sure. She tells me that she scheduled an appointment for 9:00pm on a Monday. Also, quite odd, but she claimed it was being done as a favor for her.
As you can probably guess by this point, when I told her that was fine, it doesn’t matter what time the appointment is, I’ll be there, she magically started her monthly cycle. But she had blood drawn and sent to some lab to see if she was still pregnant and it was going to take three days for the results. Having had three kids of my own, I had never heard of such a practice. You walk into the doctor’s office, you take their test, they tell you right there. But her test results were going to take three days.
Then it gets better. The test that was going to take three days came back in one day. She was never pregnant after all. Magic. Or just a gigantic fucking lie that completely fucked with my head. She was never pregnant to begin with and she knew it. This was just another “what will his reaction be” test.
Obviously, I told her from that point forward, we were over. Completely over. She had put me through hell just play her little game and I wasn’t interested anymore. I still loved her, but things were spiraling way too far out of control and I didn’t want it to get any worse.
You’d figure that would be the end. But it wasn’t. There was a party for one of my coworkers at a nearby bar and she showed up. She got completely drunk and started kissing me on the cheek, dancing really close, and just acting couple-esque in general. I snuck out because I didn’t want to create a scene, nor did I want to hurt or embarrass her in the middle of a bar.
When I got home, I received texts, phone calls, and eventually a very drunk ex-girlfriend at my door. I let her in and tried to get someone to drive her home. But she insisted she was going to walk. I, of course, being the horrific person that I am, wasn’t going to allow her to do that. She ended up staying the night and I drove her home in the morning.
From there we didn’t really talk for a while. I started writing my posts about my regrets for what I had done wrong, the lies I had told, and how I had hurt her. I hear from a mutual friend that she is now dating some new guy and I was happy for her. Then I hear, from the same mutual friend, that the relationship wasn’t going to last and she’ll be calling me as soon as the “drinking season” is over.
I dismissed this completely. Although I did get a text from her asking if their was something I wanted to tell her. I told I was sorry and that she was right, amongst many other kind and apologetic things. She, in turn, had nothing but acid to spew back, claiming that she “couldn’t be happier” and that being with this new guy was “effortless” and a “perfect relationship.” That she didn’t feel like she was being hidden, as she did in our relationship.
Amongst the acid, the whole hidden thing was all on her. I wanted to tell my soon-to-be ex about her almost right away. She told me not to. So I didn’t. Then she asked later why I hadn’t told anyone about us. I told her it was because she told me not to. So from there, I told everyone, minus the kids. I even took her out to meet my cousins.
She wasn’t hidden. And when it came time for her to meet my youngest son, she balked at it. My son was dropped one morning when she had spent the night, so she was in the bedroom at the time. I told her to come out and sit with us. I was ready to introduce her to my kids. She decided to hide in the bedroom. So it really wasn’t me who was hiding her, it was her hiding herself.
Alas, after that conversation, I figured I’d never hear from her again. But Karma is a bitch. Only a few weeks after all of her bragging about her “perfectly effortless relationship” that “couldn’t make her happier,” he dumped her. And guess who got a text asking if I could pick her up? I guess our mutual friend was right after all.
I picked her up, found out that he broke up with her, that it totally blind-sided her, and she didn’t know what to do. Like I said, Karma is a fucking bitch. We talked for a bit, I told her it wasn’t her that caused us to break up, it was me. I told her there was nothing wrong with her, that this other guy was obviously just an idiot. And we talked a little bit about how we ended, why my soon-to-be ex was at the condo all the time, why I chose to go back home vs moving back with parents, and other such things.
It ended with me dropping off back at the bars so she could hang out with her friends. However, not long after I received another text from her. This time is was about some problem she was having with her best friend. She wanted to know if I could see her or call her. I called her and we talked for about an hour.
After that I started getting snap chats, random texts … it was like it was back in the beginning. It just so happened that right around the same time, I finally found a way to get out of my current living arrangement. From the moment I walked in the door, it was meant to be temporary. I told my soon-to-be ex that the only reason I came back was because of finances and to be with my children. I sleep on the couch, you sleep in your bedroom. That’s the deal. We’re amicable at this point. She works days, I work nights, so we rarely see each other … pretty perfect arrangement. But still temporary.
And now that I had a plan in place, I decided to put my heart on the line. After all, although she is now my ex-girlfriend, she claimed that she loved me many a time; verbally, through texts, through emails. Even after we broke up, she said that she loved me and if the living arrangement didn’t work out, she would be there for me to pick up the pieces.
Well, what I discovered was a completely different person than the one I dated. I was essentially told that there was nothing good in our relationship, she could not trust me, I was a liar, and that she never loved me. That she wanted to travel, party, hangout with her friends, etc … and I don’t fit into that.
Why? Who knows. When we dated we traveled, we hung out with her friends, we partied. Sounds like an illogical excuse. Especially since she told me while she was in her “perfect relationship” that she wanted to find someone to settle down with. Kind of the opposite of the travel, party, friends excuse.
Oh, and just to further demonstrate how fucking irrational her explanation was, she claimed the only reason she asked me to pick her up after her “perfect relationship” blew up on her face was because her first choice would have been the ex-boyfriend I previously mentioned, but he would be drunk and useless. I was more reliable and would tell her the things she needed and wanted to hear. So, I’m untrustworthy, but reliable. I’m a liar, but I’m the one she thought would tell her what needed and wanted to hear. Not a lick of fucking sense in any of it.
It’s quite amazing how one can completely rewrite history to their own benefit. As I mentioned above, she has quite a story when she inserts certain details and removes others.
In truth, it’s all for the best. It feels good to be me again. It’s rather sad that she lived up–or down, depending on how you look at it–to the expectations that many people warned me about. But, as a fellow co-worker said to me, “That’s what you get for dating someone who is bat-shit crazy.” I didn’t want to believe it was true. I wanted to believe that we could be happy again if I could just find a place to live. As hard as it is for me to admit, I was wrong, they were right.
But again, it’s probably for the best. For I still have my plan in place. Now I simply don’t have to worry about wasting any time, money, or emotion on someone who clearly cannot figure out what the fuck she is doing. Don’t need that drama. Still love her … or the her that she once was. The current one can fade away as far as I’m concerned. She’s not the woman I fell in love with.
Wait … What am I saying? She’s the actual proof that love does not exist. Not anymore. I think the modern world of egocentric drama queens has pretty effectively eradicated it. Today, instead of happiness, people enjoy pain, they enjoy crisis and the attention it brings them. And where there is none, they’ll create it.
There is a saying that the simple tragedy of the Lone Wolf is that he, inevitably, dies alone. What’s left out of that little life lesson is that while the Lone Wolf may die alone, he will never be betrayed nor will he ever have his heart-broken.
And to think, just about a week ago I was asked what the three most romantic moments in my life were, and all three of them were with this woman. Goes to show how much romance is worth.
Until next time … Fuck off
*Fuck this World! and other such thoughts by Mickey Brennan – Volume I available here