Shattered Dreams

I've been avoiding posting again, putting off having to deal with feelings.  After last week's abuse went too far, I didn't want to come back here and talk about more things that hurt.  I've been pouring all of myself into my job, trying to go further and make something better out of myself so that I may be rid of the asshole once and for all-once I'm no longer financially dependent on him it won't be so much of an issue.  And in all reality, I don't rely on  him that much-all he does is pay for health insurance out of his check and give me $320 for the mortgage.  He's supposed to buy groceries but that never works the way it's intended.  I'm not all that far from not needing him at all but then there's the issue of my children being totally enamored of him....And of course he's not leaving.  He was throwing that in my face to try to get me to stop being upset, although I still don't understand how he thinks that works.  Then I got to play hide the bruises this week...One was on my arm and therefore difficult but I think only one person noticed.  Given that there were distinct finger and thumb prints on the bruise it would've been difficult to explain away.  I'm not talking about him anymore...not yet anyway.  He enters my story very soon.

I believe I left off with my Nathan.  It's funny, I still call him "my" Nathan, when he hasn't been mine in years.  In fact he recently separated from his second wife.  I still love him.  I don't think that will ever go away. The pain of it has lessened some over the years at least.  I spent the first month and a half in Decatur with him, doing nothing because we had no money or cable or internet.  We had movies, books, video games, and each  other.  Suffice to say that I never went without sexual attention during  this time, but I did feel emotionally neglected.  He wasn't a talker, he would only cuddle for so long at night before he'd say he was uncomfortable and roll over.  Something I haven't mentioned yet that I'm actually slightly embarrassed by-when at Minnie's house I always slept in her bed until I reached the age of 13.  It started after my Papaw passed away in second grade and went from there.  I was terrified of the dark, terrified of being alone...I still am.  When I was at Mom's I had my sister to sleep with so I was okay.  Throughout high school I surrounded myself by numerous pillows and stuffed animals. It was also common for my friends to sleep in my bed with me when they came over.  When I grew to adulthood and got married it was hard for me because I had to give all that up so that half of my bed could be occupied by a body that wasn't wrapped around mine.  I still struggle with this-most nights now I sleep alone, whether it's in my bed or on the couch.  If the "husband" does sleep in the same bed as me, he certainly doesn't hold me.  I've been looking for that for years and years...someone to hold me and take away the pain.  I guess I keep hoping even now that a prince charming will come swoop me up on his white horse and love me and take care of me.  Haha, yeah right.  I'm learning to be self-sufficient and stand on my own two feet because I know I can't rely on any "man."

So anyway...I got sidetracked.  Nathan couldn't sign me into school, and I didn't like the thought of getting a G.E.D....I had worked so very hard, I truly HATED how I graduated.  It was humiliating to me.  I certainly wasn't the top of my class, but I was in advanced placement classes and was a National Merit scholar or whatever it was called, I had had a poem published, I would have graduated.  I hated Minnie and Mom both for taking my senior year from me.  I did get the senior pictures, but I didn't get to walk across the stage.  I didn't get senior prom (although in all fairness I had been to 3 anyway).  I missed my friends, particularly Delaney-we talked at least once a week while I was in Arizona and then spent time together once I had moved back to Tennessee.  That's why I went to stay with her when I started going to Center School.  I didn't like the place...I was surrounded by people that had dropped out and didn't care and thought I was stupid for trying to do well.  I only had to take two courses, so I did my time with the place and got out as soon as I could.  I met one or two nice people but I was something of a loner at this time of my life-people brought nothing but pain so why invite them in?  I generally went to school in my black bondage pants and black shirt with black eyeliner.  My hair was no longer black or purple or blue by this point, but I was still going for the leave-me-the-fuck-alone look, complete with blasting rock music in the car and walking like I had a chip on my shoulder and would punch you if you looked at me.

Staying with Delaney was nice though.  Her parents really didn't have any rules, and I just kind of stayed out of their way.  I didn't eat much of their food and tried to keep my space clean.  I was very grateful that they allowed me to stay there and that they lent me their vehicle.  Delaney and I would go on long, random drives, smoking and singing at the top of our lungs in the car...we were pretty good, too.  I don't sing in front of people anymore unless I'm with her.  At one point we took a day trip to Nashville and spent all day walking around taking pictures with a roll of black-and-white film we had picked up.  I still have them, and I think they're beautiful.  They totally captured who I was at this point in time.  We went to the Hard Rock Cafe and split one of those enormous brownies because we couldn't afford an actual meal.  We were also known for making frequent 2 a.m. trips to Waffle House.  She'd get her coffee every single time, while I had a Coke and grilled cheese.  I always let her pick the music on the jukebox and then we'd giggle about how stupid the song was or it reminded us of a time when.....it was good for me, having the opportunity to stay with her.  I'm very close to her and love her still.  I wish she was still here but she lives out of state.  We're planning a "girls' weekend" in NYC at some point this year though, so here's hoping we get our chance.  :)

Then school was over.  I graduated as Valedictorian of the dropouts, then had to return to Decatur.  I found a job at Hardees in Athens and started making payments to Delaney's parents on an 89 BMW 325-they had just bought her an Acura and gave me the chance to buy her former car.  I LOVED that car.  I drove it until the rear strut assembly fell out.  I hated Decatur just as much as I loved the car though.  I felt confined to just that one tiny, crooked trailer with the holes in the floor. I remember being plastered one night and climbing in Nathan's lap and not knowing who he was, then proceeding to tell him all about my husband that didn't love  me before I crawled down the hallway to bed.  I say crawled because it was nearly impossible to walk down that hall sober-it was crooked and uneven and full of holes.  I would occasionally go to the tanning bed with a girl from work, desperately trying to fit in.  It's hard to fit in when you're the only one that's 17, married, and doing nothing with your life.  I tried anyway, getting burnt so many times (being redheaded means you stay OUT of tanning beds!!),  drinking with the in-laws, anything to feel included somehow, somewhere.  Eventually it was just too much.  Nathan wouldn't move away from his momma, didn't want to get an apartment and have our own space, didn't seem to want to do anything other than stay right there in that hellhole.  He damn near chopped his thumb off at work one day and didn't even call me....I came home from work to find his mother waiting for me in the driveway saying "Now don't panic," which makes every newlywed do just that.  He would talk to his parents, but not to me.  I wrote countless entries in my journal, only to find out later that he was reading them.  I had a crush on a guy at work who saw me being so miserable and talked about saving me from it...I didn't actually want anything to do with him but I was so desperate for attention that I'd have taken it from anyone at that point in time.  Eventually it came down to my mom wiring me $200 via Western Union so I could go back to Arizona.  I went home and threw everything, including my little dog Obsidian, in my car and was pulling out of the driveway when he came home.  He put in a feeble effort to stop me...I still feel so bad about leaving him.  I had to do it for me though, I was miserable there.  I walked away from Nathan (not for the last time) and drove recklessly into the western skyline.

It usually takes about 2 days to go down interstates 40, 30, 20, then 10, to make it from East Tennessee to Sierra Vista. I made it in 26 hours.  I sped without a care for anyone or anything in my path, hitting triple digits several times. Somewhere in Texas I had nodded off at the wheel.  I woke up with a start, over-corrected, and spun out in the middle of the highway.  I am so fortunate that there were no other cars on the road at that point...I thank God for that.  The car spun so hard that my dog flew from my lap clear to the back windshield.  I was so so scared and shaken.  I pulled off at the first gas station I could find and stopped to make sure Obsidian was okay.  He was just as scared as I was and crawled back into my lap.  I slept there, holding him that way for about 30 minutes.  Then I refueled with gas and caffeine and set back out.

If I'd have known what was waiting in Arizona I might have stayed in Decatur.  I don't believe in regrets-if I hadn't gone through exactly what I had, I wouldn't be the person I am today.  I wouldn't have my children.  I won't take it back, because I believe there is a reason for everything, even if it is only put in your path to make you stronger.  That's where I'm leaving off tonight.

A side note....I've been doing a lot of reading and most of what I've seen presents reaction to abuse/hurt/whatever in black and white-you either tell everybody you've ever met how you're feeling/what you went through, or you hide it.  I realized that lately-in regards to my present situation, not my past-I've been doing a little of both.  I feel as if I'm hiding in plain sight, praying that nobody in the outside world can see how I feel, how I hurt, what  I am....but I'm also begging for attention.   Today I actually said "okay I'm putting this out there so I can actually address this.  It really hurts that I sit here depressed, crying, alone all of the time, and you don't have five minutes for me.  Then when your mother mentions that she's upset on what was supposed to be our family day you go running, leaving your sick wife and children at home." Not a response, not even a grunt of acknowledgement was received.  So why bother?

Then there's Mom.  She almost never answers her phone, and when it does get answered it's usually by the person she happens to be with that day.  I called last night to ask directions to Childrens Hospital, a family friend answered.  Finally got Mom on the phone, she just passed me back to the friend.  She texted to check on my son, but then wouldn't answer my call.  She didn't answer when I called her this morning or afternoon either even though she knew I was at the Take Care Clinic because I was also sick.  She answered my texts, but never my phone calls.  She's always too busy for me.

Anyway, those were irrelevant to the post at hand but I needed to vent.