Writing in Crayon

Sometimes, for me anyway, reminiscing is like watching a train wreck that’s about to happen.  You know what’s going to happen; you’ve already lived it.  But you’re helpless to stop it.  You can’t stop a locomotive – you weren’t strong enough then, and you’re not strong enough now.  And you can’t push your former self off of the track – after all, you’re just a casual observer of the past.  You just have to sit back and watch, and hope you’ve watched it enough times so that you no longer feel the impact.

The beginning of the beginning;  of the end…
I was 19 and had been dating Fred for almost two years.  Fred was sweet, cute and funny, and treated me well.  He was my best friend.  But at 19, I was bored.  I didn’t recognize the deep love, friendship and security that can only come with time.  I missed the flutters.  The anticipation.  I missed the rush you get in the beginning of a relationship.  The total high that could get you $1000 a hit if they could put it in pill form while not frying holes in your brain.

Enter: Jim.  And the beginnings of a 15-year cycle of self-destruction and varying degrees of abusive relationships and low self-esteem.

Jim was a cook at the restaurant where I worked.  He was a student, studying HVAC at a local technical school, and worked part time at the restaurant.  He was cute – pale hazelish-green eyes, full lips, dimples.  Just adorable.  And he was paying attention.  To me.  It gave me flutters.

So I took the only logical step.  I dumped Fred.  Hard.  On New Year’s Day.  I didn’t even bother to get out of bed when I told him it was over.  I was cold and emotionless.  He cried.  I felt bad, but brushed it off.  Heartless.

Two days later (yes, only two), it was snowing hard and I was working the night shift with Jim.  He lived walking distance from the restaurant, but I offered him a ride home.  He took me up on it.  When I went to drop him off, he leaned over and kissed me.  It was a FABULOUS kiss.  It gave me that feeling that I’d been missing for what seemed like an eternity at that age.

Then he stopped.  He looked at me and said “I don’t want you doing this with anyone else.”  I was mildly taken aback at the suddenness of that statement, but quickly reconciled it in my mind.  He must be smitten that he wants me all to himself so soon!  Wow.  I’m awesome! and so began a whirlwind romance.  In the beginning, anyway…

Well if you really cared about me…
Jim was very attentive.  Very.  This was incredibly flattering (and just another red flag that I either didn’t understand or chose to ignore).  We became intimate quickly, talked about our feelings early on, and became joined at the hip in a matter of weeks.  It was incredibly unhealthy, and incredibly intoxicating.

He informed me that he smoked pot, by saying simply “I smoke pot, so you’re gonna have to deal with that,” but what I heard was “sometimes, at parties, and on rare occasions, I sometimes party a tiny bit.”  So no biggie.  I didn’t like that, but I could look past it.  After all, I was not about to lose this awesomeness.  Nor was I about to lose it after I discovered him smoking pot on a daily basis.  I mean, people drink every day, right?  Not a big deal.  Our love was more important than that silly little boundary.

I was completely enmeshed in the headiness of it all, when I informed Jim that I’d be going out with my dear friend, Bob.  I’d been bff’s with Bob for two years at that point, and was planning on hanging out with him for the evening and regaling him with stories of my new found “perfect” relationship.  But Jim had other ideas.  He was very upset at this idea, and hence, we had our first “difference of opinion.”

“You’re not going out with him,” he casually informed me.

“What are you talking about?” I asked him, genuinely confused.  Fred had never had a problem with Bob.  Why should Jim?  “He’s my friend!”

“He obviously wants to get in your pants!”

I assured him that he did not, in fact, “want” me that way.

It went on.  It got heated.  I was in tears.  Then he pulled out the big guns.  “I would never do that to you!  If you truly cared about me, you wouldn’t make me feel this way.”

I caved.  And I said the words that make me cringe to look back upon.  Do you hear the train whistle in the distance? “I love you!  I won’t go.”

What followed was manipulation on his part, and desperation on mine, to isolate me from nearly all of my friends and even some of my own family.  My sister lived upstairs from my mother at the time.  Fred had fallen onto some hard times, so my sister and her then-fiance took him in.  Once he moved in, I faced countless accusations from Jim about cheating on him with Fred, anytime I visited my mother.  My solution?  That was easy.  Since visiting my mother caused “trouble” in my relationship, I eliminated the cause.  Visits to my mother’s house.  I just stopped going there and instead, made excuse after excuse not to go there.  I mean, Jim reeeally really loved me.  If he didn’t, he wouldn’t get so mad. Right?  RIGHT?

Defining moment
I don’t even remember what started the fight, but it was a big one – the worst I’d ever had with anyone.  It’s fuzzy now…clouded by…reality?  At the time, I fought for him.  Because I loved him – more than I’d ever loved anyone.  I was desperate that he not leave me.  Ever.  I beseeched and implored for him to pleeease believe me!  I remember getting so angry that I was hitting him.  Or trying to.  He grabbed my wrists.  Hard.  And pushed me backwards.  I tripped over the vacuum cleaner that was sitting in the middle of the room, and fell.  He looked at me, disgusted, and said “Oh, so I guess you’re going to blame that on me, huh?”  It totally worked.  I jumped to my own defense and said “No!  I just tripped!”

Do you feel the track starting to rumble and vibrate under your feet?

To be continued…