In case you weren't aware, I returned to Chicago last week. I left my youngest son behind because he was safer in Minnesota than here. It kinda blows.
Why did I leave? I left because the man I love and had committed my life to was emotionally involved with another woman. He would deny it over and over.
When I told him I was leaving, he asked me over and over again why I was being so nice. I told him it was because I wasn't angry - I was just really sad. He told me to stay a few times because it was safer there - but not because he didn't want to lose me.
We spent the last two nights sharing a bed because I wanted to remember how it was. I cried a lot. HE did too.
Finally, the last night before my son picked me up, I told him that I would stay if he could show me his texts -without having the opportunity to delete any first - and if the texts he was exchanging with her backed up what he was telling me. He got angry and refused.
That in itself was answer enough.
We have still talked daily on the phone and he ends every phone call telling me he loves me. At one point, I said that I deserve to know the truth. I wanted to hear him tell me what the reality of the situation was. He danced around the question and deflected with stupid jokes.
So, I told him what I figured would have happened. Logically, if he wanted me to stay, he would have begged me not to go or proven nothing was going on. If he really wanted to be with her, he would be relieved that I left, allowing him the freedom to get back together with her.
But neither of those things happened. All this does is serve to confuse me. I asked what his end game was here- did he expect me to stay and continue our relationship while keeping her on the side? That neither of us would figure it out? Then what? How did he plan on being with both of us?
As it was, my mind was blown that she continued to stick around. What kind of woman would accept that her man was living with his ex-wife and that they weren't having sex? Who is that delusional?
Before he locked his phone, I texted her off of his phone. This is how it went:
Me: It's Melissa. The games have to stop. He's playing us both.
I'm not even angry anymore. I'm just tired. I offered to leave before this COVID thing...he begs me not to go. I don't want to play games anymore. I'm just tired of being lied to. You should be too.
Her: Don't ever text me again, Melissa. You are the devil. Go burn in hell.
Me: Oh for god's sake. You don't see what he's doing here?
Her: Fuck you!!!!!!!
We are soul mates. Nothin can tear us apart. Deal with it.
Me: You know nothing about me. Only what he's told you. I'm sure he hasn't told you we are sleeping together regularly. Why would he? I asked him how he can live with himself playing games like that.
If that's so, why is he fucking me?
Her: Don't you ever text me again you crazy bitch.
Me: I could send time and date stamped videos if you'd like. This just needs to end. He needs to pick a side.
Whatever. As long as I'm here, it's not going to work out for you two. And not because I'm standing in the way. Because he won't let me leave.
Ok, so there's a couple things here. First off - she's 47 years old. She responded like a 12-year-old. Second, I was trying to be cool with her and let her know with anger that she was being as fucked with as I was.
I didn't have videos of us having sex, but she doesn't know that. How could she accept his words? I wouldn't take that shit.
So I didn't. My middle son drove 12 hours round trip to pick me up.
The ride was actually awesome. He started by telling me I had one hour to cry and be a little bitch, but that was it. Amazingly, I didn't use it. On a normal day, he would bitch about me singing along to songs and change them when I did. We actually played a bunch of songs (including Miley Cyrus and Backstreet Boys) at the top of our lungs and laughed our asses off.
I loved every minute of it.
I was supposed to spend the first three days at my ex's house so I could figure out my next move. Once we got in the car, my son told me under no circumstance was that going to happen. He was taking me to hotel where his girlfriend was staying (her family got evicted - long story) When I argued, he said that it was nothing against my ex at all - It was the fact that I was going to be a puddle of myself and I might, in a moment of weakness, get too comfortable there. I agreed.
So, now I'm here, waiting for my unemployment to kick in. I was fortunate enough to have enough money saved to see me through so far. When I ran out, magically, the state tax refund I had been waiting for months to receive came through. Apparently, the universe is looking out for me.
So, what's the lesson here? Don't deal with less than you deserve. I wanted to stay in Minnesota. I was happier there than Chicago - I still am. But, I could not continue to live under the same roof as a man who was in love with another woman. So I didn't
I could eventually get over him banging random women. But this was worth. He was cheating emotionally. He was emotionally involved with another woman. He wasn't even SEEING her, but he loved her enough to keep going.
I deserve better than that.
For years, he had the mental image of me having been a monster - that was how he dealt with my leaving. In the end, he said that this time, be would remember me differently based on my actions. He would remember me as a better person. For years, all he wanted was his family back. He got it but was so stuck on how he remembered me that he tossed it away.
The only thing we ever fought over was her. His response was always a cop-out. He would bring up something that I did years ago. When I would say that was irrelevant and to stay in the present, he refused.
So, what next? I'm not sure. Having been happy in living in Minnesota, being here again only serves to remind me how much I hate it here. I still have a job to go back to if I choose to return. All I have to do now is decide if I'm going to stay here or go back after all this pandemic shit is over and get my own place.
The world is facing something it has never seen before. this is an unprecedented event in the history of mankind. Everyone is freaking out. Now more than ever, we need to practice self-care. You just can't take care of anyone else you love if you are not taking care of yourself.
Don't ever be someone's back up plan.
You deserve much. much better.
You need to give yourself credit for the smallest of things. You got up this morning. You took a shower, then you got dressed, grabbed your car keys, and took care of business. 10 years from now, I'll still be without him, but I'll be happy.
Love you - Now love yourself.
Celebrating Mental Heath Awareness Month By Telling My Story
It was the darkest point of my life. Getting out of bed was nearly impossible. In all of my years, I'd never felt so low. My husband was going behind my back and keeping a dialogue going with his ex-girlfriend. My social circle was non-existent. It was too much effort to even answer the phone when my sons would call. I stopped do anything that brought me joy.
Each morning, I would struggle to get out of bed with my youngest son for school. I'd let him watch videos on his phone while I actually counted the minutes until the bus came. As soon as he left for the bus, I'd go back to sleep - usually until 2pm.
If I had to work, I'd drag myself to the shower to get ready. If not, I'd do just enough housework to avoid a fight.
The days I didn't work, I'd be exhausted by 7 pm - even after having slept all day.
I stopped reading. I stopped writing. I stopped doing things with my son and let Fortnite babysit him.
I cried. I cried every night. Sometimes I cried most of the day. I came the closest to suicide I've ever been in my life.
I would think to myself - I can't even do that because I don't have access to anything I could overdose on.
One night, after ugly crying to myself and wondering why I wasn't good enough for anyone - I took a handful of Cymbalta that I had on hand. All I did was succeed in making myself sick for a few days. (Kind of a sense of 'you can't even do that right')
Even when I spoke, my voice was flat and completely devoid of emotion.
I didn't know how you call in sick to work because you wanted to end your life. I was unsure of what, if any, social protocol was in such situations, so I just went to work instead.
I didn't know how you tell your children how much you love them; how proud you are of them - how to express the absolute joy they have given you in an otherwise empty life - but that you just couldn't keep enduing the never-ending pain that life caused you - so I kept on breathing instead.
I had absolutely no idea how to end my suffering and pain without transferring it to them - So I didn't.
One night we went to a launch party for a children's brook. As I sat there, I looked around and started to get really paranoid. It felt like everyone was giving me weird disapproving looks and were talking about me. I had to stop myself and be logical. I knew no one cared enough to single me out.
Then the panic attack began. I told my husband that I had to go outside because I was having an attack and he followed me. I hadn't had one in over 15 years.
Once outside, I told him I just needed to breathe an have a little space, but he refused to leave me alone. We were close enough to home that I could have walked there, but I didn't have a key. Eventually, he went back inside.
I began to hyperventilate and fell to my knees in the parking lot, gasping for breath. At this point, he came back outside with my son to take me home. He was also beyond drunk.
I told him we needed to leave. He told me to get up because I was embarrassing myself.
He searched his pockets for the car keys and then yelled at me that I had them. He claimed he gave them to me. (he had not) I tried to tell him but he refused to listen. Finally, I dumped my entire purse in the middle of the parking lot to prove I didn't have them - but only because at that pint I was unable to speak. That's when he discovered the keys had been in his coat pocket the whole time.
Once we got home I was able to calm myself down. As soon as I did, he walked into the room and GROWLED "You're doing this for attention. Do you realize how pathetic that is?" That's when it started all over again.
That night I cried hysterically again, I sincerely did not want to live anymore. I terrified my son because he had never seen me in such a state. Up until recently, he hadn't ever seen me cry. I was his stability - the one who was always consistent. He wanted to take care of me. I did not want to wake up to see the next day. For some reason though, I did.
It as a few days later that I finally saw my new doctor and was put on a new regimen of prescription medication. That was when the craziest thing happened - after only two days, I started to feel better. I woke up in the morning with energy. I even stayed awake throughout the day, I stopped feeling sorry for myself. I stopped thinking of reasons to end my life and started thinking of ways I could improve it instead.
That was just a month ago.
Since then, I've been able to laugh again. I even went finally to get the tattoo I've wanted this past weekend. It says (in my handwriting) "How do we forgive ourselves for all of the things we did not become?"
And finally, I have the answer to that question - we don't.
You can never go back to the person you were before the trauma, the tragic loss, or the heartbreak. That person is forever gone. Yur path has been changed and you have become a new you.
There is no need to forgive yourself because you were never meant to become any of those things. You were meant to be right here, right where you are now. Your struggles, your scars - they are what make you beautiful.
Much more than that, YOU ARE ENOUGH.
If for some reason someone makes you feel that you aren't - that's when you know you have strayed from your path. Rerouting isn't always easy, but you have to come to the realization that you are enough. It's the Universe telling you that you are not where you are supposed to be. It's only a harsh message because when the universe sent subtle signs you refused to listen.
I've told you my story in the hope of giving you hope if you are in the darkness. It's not a weakness to need help - I'm n medication and will likely have to be for the rest of my life. When I moved, the delay caused by having to establish new insurance and finding a new doctor left me without medication (which to be honest, needed adjustment anyway) for three months. All of this was made a thousand times worse as a result.
Without following my regimen of medication, meditation, journaling and reaching out to my support system I can't survive.
If you are lost - you can be found. Hell, if my crazy ass can get it together, no doubt you can! In Minnesota, where I currently live, there's even a crisis text line if you can't bring yourself to speak. All you have to do is text MN to 741741. Each state offers its own suicide prevention services. You can go to http://www.suicide.org/suicide-hotlines.html to find yours.
Text. Call. If nothing else - email me: majikmissi@gmail.com
Just please reach out to someone. Trust me, I know exactly how hard it is to do. The last thing I wanted to do when I was down the rabbit hole was to tell someone my story. It was too exhausting. What you need to understand is that once you do - that's when the healing begins.
I love you. Now, love yourself.
Each morning, I would struggle to get out of bed with my youngest son for school. I'd let him watch videos on his phone while I actually counted the minutes until the bus came. As soon as he left for the bus, I'd go back to sleep - usually until 2pm.
If I had to work, I'd drag myself to the shower to get ready. If not, I'd do just enough housework to avoid a fight.
The days I didn't work, I'd be exhausted by 7 pm - even after having slept all day.
I stopped reading. I stopped writing. I stopped doing things with my son and let Fortnite babysit him.
I cried. I cried every night. Sometimes I cried most of the day. I came the closest to suicide I've ever been in my life.
I would think to myself - I can't even do that because I don't have access to anything I could overdose on.
One night, after ugly crying to myself and wondering why I wasn't good enough for anyone - I took a handful of Cymbalta that I had on hand. All I did was succeed in making myself sick for a few days. (Kind of a sense of 'you can't even do that right')
Even when I spoke, my voice was flat and completely devoid of emotion.
I didn't know how you call in sick to work because you wanted to end your life. I was unsure of what, if any, social protocol was in such situations, so I just went to work instead.
I didn't know how you tell your children how much you love them; how proud you are of them - how to express the absolute joy they have given you in an otherwise empty life - but that you just couldn't keep enduing the never-ending pain that life caused you - so I kept on breathing instead.
I had absolutely no idea how to end my suffering and pain without transferring it to them - So I didn't.
One night we went to a launch party for a children's brook. As I sat there, I looked around and started to get really paranoid. It felt like everyone was giving me weird disapproving looks and were talking about me. I had to stop myself and be logical. I knew no one cared enough to single me out.
Then the panic attack began. I told my husband that I had to go outside because I was having an attack and he followed me. I hadn't had one in over 15 years.
Once outside, I told him I just needed to breathe an have a little space, but he refused to leave me alone. We were close enough to home that I could have walked there, but I didn't have a key. Eventually, he went back inside.
I began to hyperventilate and fell to my knees in the parking lot, gasping for breath. At this point, he came back outside with my son to take me home. He was also beyond drunk.
I told him we needed to leave. He told me to get up because I was embarrassing myself.
He searched his pockets for the car keys and then yelled at me that I had them. He claimed he gave them to me. (he had not) I tried to tell him but he refused to listen. Finally, I dumped my entire purse in the middle of the parking lot to prove I didn't have them - but only because at that pint I was unable to speak. That's when he discovered the keys had been in his coat pocket the whole time.
Once we got home I was able to calm myself down. As soon as I did, he walked into the room and GROWLED "You're doing this for attention. Do you realize how pathetic that is?" That's when it started all over again.
That night I cried hysterically again, I sincerely did not want to live anymore. I terrified my son because he had never seen me in such a state. Up until recently, he hadn't ever seen me cry. I was his stability - the one who was always consistent. He wanted to take care of me. I did not want to wake up to see the next day. For some reason though, I did.
It as a few days later that I finally saw my new doctor and was put on a new regimen of prescription medication. That was when the craziest thing happened - after only two days, I started to feel better. I woke up in the morning with energy. I even stayed awake throughout the day, I stopped feeling sorry for myself. I stopped thinking of reasons to end my life and started thinking of ways I could improve it instead.
That was just a month ago.
Since then, I've been able to laugh again. I even went finally to get the tattoo I've wanted this past weekend. It says (in my handwriting) "How do we forgive ourselves for all of the things we did not become?"
And finally, I have the answer to that question - we don't.
You can never go back to the person you were before the trauma, the tragic loss, or the heartbreak. That person is forever gone. Yur path has been changed and you have become a new you.
There is no need to forgive yourself because you were never meant to become any of those things. You were meant to be right here, right where you are now. Your struggles, your scars - they are what make you beautiful.
Much more than that, YOU ARE ENOUGH.
If for some reason someone makes you feel that you aren't - that's when you know you have strayed from your path. Rerouting isn't always easy, but you have to come to the realization that you are enough. It's the Universe telling you that you are not where you are supposed to be. It's only a harsh message because when the universe sent subtle signs you refused to listen.
I've told you my story in the hope of giving you hope if you are in the darkness. It's not a weakness to need help - I'm n medication and will likely have to be for the rest of my life. When I moved, the delay caused by having to establish new insurance and finding a new doctor left me without medication (which to be honest, needed adjustment anyway) for three months. All of this was made a thousand times worse as a result.
Without following my regimen of medication, meditation, journaling and reaching out to my support system I can't survive.
If you are lost - you can be found. Hell, if my crazy ass can get it together, no doubt you can! In Minnesota, where I currently live, there's even a crisis text line if you can't bring yourself to speak. All you have to do is text MN to 741741. Each state offers its own suicide prevention services. You can go to http://www.suicide.org/suicide-hotlines.html to find yours.
Text. Call. If nothing else - email me: majikmissi@gmail.com
Just please reach out to someone. Trust me, I know exactly how hard it is to do. The last thing I wanted to do when I was down the rabbit hole was to tell someone my story. It was too exhausting. What you need to understand is that once you do - that's when the healing begins.
I love you. Now, love yourself.