Today I'm starting over.
In search of some balance for myself, I refuse to keep taking the judgment that keeps being heaped on me. In some respects, this is like Denise all over again. I'm being judged for something I can't help, and the person who said she loved me is sitting back feeling superior because of her status and relative control of the situation.
No more. I'm done. I'm taking back my power. I was in a good place after the holidays, and I'll get into that good place again. At this point, I say the serenity prayer and get out of my pity place.
Yesterday I hired a U-Haul truck and a couple of helpers to get my things out of Kim's house. She had thrown quite a bit of my stuff into garbage bags and had it all tossed into the office I had used there; however, I still had to get my things out of the "blue room" where we had so many good times with the boys, reading stories and having parties, and out of the kitchen. It was rough, but I got through it. Last night I slept in my own bed again. Today I have many of the boxes unpacked, and I have my clothes put away in closets and drawers. It's been two long days of sweat and hard work, but I am home.
Last night I did something I really wasn't ready for, though. I went over to Kim's house for a visit. I intended to just see the boys, since I wanted to bring them Easter baskets, but time wore on and Kim pulled into the driveway. She got out of the truck and smiled at me. We hugged for what seemed like a good five minutes or so. It felt hopeful to me. I thought, "Okay, maybe we really can start over." But what started out well ended with me feeling lousy about myself again. She had to make sure to put me in my place and analyze me before the end of the evening. Mind you, I wasn't ready to move back in -- not by a long shot -- but I took her at her word when she said we could "start over." Starting over shouldn't hurt so much.
Though Kim hasn't "had time" to text me back when I texted her, her phone was going off constantly (and she was responding). She joked that old girlfriends were coming out of the woodwork. It was a low blow. I thought, "You know, if you had ever loved me, you wouldn't find new ways to torture me all the time." As Paul put it, if someone has a broken arm, you don't hit them in it while they're healing. Likewise, you don't play head games with someone whose psyche is healing.
There was something I really wanted to know, so I just put it out there. I asked her why she let me leave the house that day, when I had confessed to her that I was suicidal, that I didn't want to go on. She shrugged and said, "What could I do?"
Well, let's see. She's an emergency physician. When a person says they intend to harm themselves or others, what is the protocol? You intervene. You call 911. You at least try to talk to them. She could have called the crisis hotline, or she could have had Paul come get me. Instead, she let me drive out of there. I could have hurt myself and/or someone else. A vehicle is a loaded weapon when one isn't thinking right. I came so close to rolling it out into traffic, and I shudder to think that I could have hurt an innocent person, maybe even a child. I just wasn't thinking right that day, and her inaction spoke volumes about her priorities and about the fact that she didn't really love me at all. In fact, I think she had such animosity towards me that she would rather have let me die than help me. She completely lost her bearings, even as a physician.
She also accused me of pressuring her last night and of wanting everything to go back to the way it was right now. I assured her that was not true and that I couldn't see how moving my things out was pressuring her. I pointed out that she had seemed glad to see me at first and then (probably after she talked to Katherine while she was going to get pizza for us all), she turned it all around and got cold with me again. I'm so tired of the coldness. That's not love. That's not kindness. I'm not sure what that is. I think she was upset because the boys kept asking her if I could stay. That didn't go over well, but none of that came from me. I never mentioned to them anything about me staying. I just told them that the Easter bunny had made a mistake and dropped off baskets at my house for them.
In the hospital, the psychiatrist tried to gently point out to me that perhaps Kim doesn't have a compassionate personality. Perhaps she isn't the right person for me to be with, considering all that I have gone through. She pointed out that I shouldn't have to change who I am or to stifle my feelings just because of an emotionally-distant partner. She was right, of course. I'm not sure Kim knows the meaning of the word "compassion," and I'm pretty sure my psychiatrist had this talk with me after she spoke with Kim about my condition. It would have been pretty easy for her to size up how my so-called partner felt about me from that conversation.
So rather than allow myself to continue to be tortured and raked over the coals, I'm moving on, and this post is the last of what I'll say about her and I (except for the most basic references when I finish writing about the hospitalization experience). She really doesn't deserve any more of my energy. As my friend Patty said, when she saw me rushing into this relationship: "Well, sometimes you just have to hop on the bus. If you find you're on the wrong bus, get a transfer!" I'm getting that transfer token now.
I sent the requisite "Dear Kim" email, telling her that trust is a two-way street and that I was no longer interested in getting to know her because I don't trust her. I know all I need to know. It's best if I don't see her anymore and if I just walk away -- even though it will hurt a lot more than I'm letting on. I just can't keep putting myself through this. If I learned anything from the situation with Denise, it's that going back won't change things. It didn't work, and it won't work.
I'm just reaching out to friends now, as well as working on me. I have another couple of weeks in outpatient therapy and then will be going back to work. I'm planning for the fall semester, and I'm really thinking of moving down to Raleigh to be near Sean once I'm done with the degree. There's nothing else for me up here.
Paul is still staying at the townhouse with me for a little while longer, though he's going on a cruise starting next weekend. Sean is going to come up for a visit with me for that weekend, then I'll be on my own. I'm not afraid to be alone. If today has taught me anything, it's that I can be here alone and find plenty to do. I've been catching up on my rest, but when I find those free moments, I fill them with peaceful activities that make me feel happy and balanced. The bulldogs and I are enjoying a lazy Easter Sunday in which a gentle breeze is blowing the flowering tree in the backyard and the only noise is the quiet rush of air from the A/C.
In time, I will find peace once more. - D