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When I was younger, I dreaded New years Eve and the arbitrary distinction of a dying year. I grew up so afraid of death and dying, that every year filled me quiet terror because it never seemed like enough time for everything I wanted to know. For a long time, I was convinced somewhere in the back of my mind that I wouldn't live to see twenty and that nearly came true. Something changed, and maybe I'm not as afraid of death as I used to be or maybe it is just that I'm more used to it. Still, I stand firm that it was the horrible children's book where the little boy's grandfather dies, and he's sailing his toy boat alone and everyone tells him death is like sleep, just forever.
I've read through the majority of my entries from the past year recently. The only thing that is clear to me is that I was fighting a losing battle the whole time. When I first left Alan, it was because I couldn't handle how emotionally abusive our relationship was and I worried that it would get violent. I was so fed up with not being able to trust him, with being afraid all the time. I stayed with my mother for a couple months, and at some point Alan agreed to go back into therapy. I was so relieved and so happy. This had to be it I thought, he said he would go, and maybe this time it will work. Then there was this brief time with the new doctor where I felt like it was going to be okay. I remember a week long span where we were happy. Then came the overdose.
If you have never lived through taking someone you love to the ER, then I hope you never do. I remember being surprised it was so quiet, but then it was in the very early hours of a Monday morning. I remember how his heart rate was 136 sitting on the bed, and the pitying look the ER doctor gave me over his head. I remember Sarah holding me while I screamed when they called in the crash team, and I remember how cold the waiting room was and the taste of cola and cigarettes at 3am. I remember the awkwardness of the waiting room, and how Brett turned around and came down to Austin, and how it hurt to call Joan and Ed to tell them the truth. I remember crying and talking to the doctor who tried everything he could to get Alan a placement in a facility. I remember my mother sitting in the ICU with him until I could get back to the hospital after three hours of sleep that did no good. I remember him telling me that he wouldn't have a wife who betrayedher husband like this, and that he wanted a divorce.
Most of all I remember telling the truth, and I remember how many times I cried and when I started to sound angry. My only real regret in all of this was how much I covered up and lied, because I never wanted to be that person. I thought I was doing what I had to do, and I thought I was going to save him somehow. I don't know, and I know it all reads like excuses anyway. But I don't regret loving him, or fighting so hard to try and help him. I believe that if you make the vows, then you do whatever you have to do and more. Maybe that's just the stubborn part of me that wouldn't let go. But I don't believe in backing down on stakes that high.
So if the first six months were about losing, then the other six were about all the things I still had. Sarah came with me to the hospital, and was with me constantly in those first couple weeks. She let me live on her sofa, and kept me occupied. That may not read like much, but it was my entire world for a time. Sarah and Tyler did a lot to keep me sane in my day to day world over the summer, taking the places of people who could not be here. Melynda talked to me endlessly, hashing out the loops until I was sure there was nothing left to say. Fortunately in January, Stacy helped me get into my current job so I had that security and the support of a very understanding boss. I worked very hard at not turning into an alcoholic, because the temptation was very strong. I had so many emails, messages and LJ comments from my online friends and they were a comfort in those awful bright mornings. There were so many people like Nikki and Jason who took the time to write to me, to listen and to make the shadow less lonely.
Over time, there was damage done and I'm working on putting those pieces back together. I'm slowly making my peace with how poorly I treated Racheline in all of this, and dealing with my guilt. I'm talking to my family more. I'm trying to learn how not to wear every heart on my sleeve, and how to keep going when all I want to do is lay down and die. At times, I can feel myself getting better. I think some part of this ache and this year will always be with me, like the stone still embedded in my palm from a bicycle accident twelve years ago. I loved Alan dearly, but I don't think he is there any more. Sometimes I find myself wondering if any of it was real, and that's painful. But it is gone now, and he's moved on with a new girlfriend and probably a good set of stories about how evil his wife was for saving his life. I kinda feel sorry for the other girl, but she will find out in her own time. I probably wouldn't have listened if Alan's ex-girlfriend told me her side of things back then, but I have to wonder.
I took my wedding ring off the day I went to the Lord of the Rings marathon. It felt like the right time. I do not regret that decision. From here there is only the road forward. I hope that the next year is better, and we all find what we deserve.
I've read through the majority of my entries from the past year recently. The only thing that is clear to me is that I was fighting a losing battle the whole time. When I first left Alan, it was because I couldn't handle how emotionally abusive our relationship was and I worried that it would get violent. I was so fed up with not being able to trust him, with being afraid all the time. I stayed with my mother for a couple months, and at some point Alan agreed to go back into therapy. I was so relieved and so happy. This had to be it I thought, he said he would go, and maybe this time it will work. Then there was this brief time with the new doctor where I felt like it was going to be okay. I remember a week long span where we were happy. Then came the overdose.
If you have never lived through taking someone you love to the ER, then I hope you never do. I remember being surprised it was so quiet, but then it was in the very early hours of a Monday morning. I remember how his heart rate was 136 sitting on the bed, and the pitying look the ER doctor gave me over his head. I remember Sarah holding me while I screamed when they called in the crash team, and I remember how cold the waiting room was and the taste of cola and cigarettes at 3am. I remember the awkwardness of the waiting room, and how Brett turned around and came down to Austin, and how it hurt to call Joan and Ed to tell them the truth. I remember crying and talking to the doctor who tried everything he could to get Alan a placement in a facility. I remember my mother sitting in the ICU with him until I could get back to the hospital after three hours of sleep that did no good. I remember him telling me that he wouldn't have a wife who betrayedher husband like this, and that he wanted a divorce.
Most of all I remember telling the truth, and I remember how many times I cried and when I started to sound angry. My only real regret in all of this was how much I covered up and lied, because I never wanted to be that person. I thought I was doing what I had to do, and I thought I was going to save him somehow. I don't know, and I know it all reads like excuses anyway. But I don't regret loving him, or fighting so hard to try and help him. I believe that if you make the vows, then you do whatever you have to do and more. Maybe that's just the stubborn part of me that wouldn't let go. But I don't believe in backing down on stakes that high.
So if the first six months were about losing, then the other six were about all the things I still had. Sarah came with me to the hospital, and was with me constantly in those first couple weeks. She let me live on her sofa, and kept me occupied. That may not read like much, but it was my entire world for a time. Sarah and Tyler did a lot to keep me sane in my day to day world over the summer, taking the places of people who could not be here. Melynda talked to me endlessly, hashing out the loops until I was sure there was nothing left to say. Fortunately in January, Stacy helped me get into my current job so I had that security and the support of a very understanding boss. I worked very hard at not turning into an alcoholic, because the temptation was very strong. I had so many emails, messages and LJ comments from my online friends and they were a comfort in those awful bright mornings. There were so many people like Nikki and Jason who took the time to write to me, to listen and to make the shadow less lonely.
Over time, there was damage done and I'm working on putting those pieces back together. I'm slowly making my peace with how poorly I treated Racheline in all of this, and dealing with my guilt. I'm talking to my family more. I'm trying to learn how not to wear every heart on my sleeve, and how to keep going when all I want to do is lay down and die. At times, I can feel myself getting better. I think some part of this ache and this year will always be with me, like the stone still embedded in my palm from a bicycle accident twelve years ago. I loved Alan dearly, but I don't think he is there any more. Sometimes I find myself wondering if any of it was real, and that's painful. But it is gone now, and he's moved on with a new girlfriend and probably a good set of stories about how evil his wife was for saving his life. I kinda feel sorry for the other girl, but she will find out in her own time. I probably wouldn't have listened if Alan's ex-girlfriend told me her side of things back then, but I have to wonder.
I took my wedding ring off the day I went to the Lord of the Rings marathon. It felt like the right time. I do not regret that decision. From here there is only the road forward. I hope that the next year is better, and we all find what we deserve.