Chosen by a Book

Have you ever felt kinship to a book—your body, heart, and soul propelling you to devour every word because you feel like you are reading the truths of your own life spelled out on paper? That’s how I felt when I picked up Chosen by a Horse by Susan Richards.  In the book, Susan talks about how the unexpected adoption of an abused horse named Lay Me Down inspires her to overcome years of emotional neglect as a child, an abusive marriage, and destructive behavior to find the courage to love others again, and, most importantly, love herself again. (Though I know I should technically call her Richards, I can’t—her writing is so open and honest, that I can’t help but feel I know her). Chosen by a Horse was Susan’s first published book, and she followed it up with Saddled and Chosen Forever. Saddled is about how Georgia, the mare that Susan adopted, helped Susan pull through clinical depression and alcoholism, to finding her family. I read the book in less than twelve hours, and read the other two books equally as quickly.  I didn’t like Chosen Forever as much. Perhaps because it wasn’t as centered on the horses as the other two were, perhaps because Susan falls in love in the book, and I’m shying away from anything romantic these days, perhaps because some of her scenes take place on Little Cranberry Island, near the island that I spent a week with Apache’s mom last summer, and where he and I vacationed this winter. That wound is still too fresh.

It sounds cheesy, but reading these books about Susan coming to discover the truths of her own strengths and weaknesses has helped me to see my own truths. I’m learning, slowly, day by day to spend the time I have on this earth doing things because they make me feel good inside, not because they might convince other’s to like me. I’ve been trying to buy love from people, in a way, because I truly do feel, though I know it’s wrong, that I won’t be loved any other way. But looking back over the past 25 years of my life, and the past five years of relationships, the three men that I tried to “buy” with my steadfast devotion are gone. Trevor and Apache refuse to speak with me, and Jay is happy in his own relationship with DogFace. I’ve chosen relationships with broken men, hoping that once I saved them from the demons that haunt them, they would love me unconditionally the way I cared for them.

It’s time to love myself; to stop putting so much effort into finding love of another, and into loving myself. As Susan writes in Chosen Forever: When you're doing what you're supposed to be doing in this life, amazing things can happen."

So here I am, doing what I want to do because I want to do it. For me, that means spending time with Magic. Last week, since Hurricane Irene had knocked out power to most of my area and the start of school was delayed—I spent most of my unexpected time off at the barn. I hauled hay and water, rode Magic, relaxed in the hammock hung from two oak trees just outside his paddock. On the first day, after the horses had been couped up for 48 hours inside, Sin and I trucked the horses down to the 50 acre pasture. I took of Magic’s halter and watched as the herd of six Arabians galloped across the paddock, stretching their stiff legs, out of sheer joy at having once again having the freedom to run. That’s how I feel now. Free from the drama of keep a relationship alive with someone that thought nothing of disrespecting me and casting me aside. Free from the shame of staying so long. Free from the countless hours I wasted catering to him and mourning him.

I’ve owned Magic, raised him for five years this weekend, and he changed me in a way that no one else has. Owning Magic means that I have to sacrifice some of the frivolities that other women my age have. There are no weeknight bottles of wine, or Friday/Saturday nights at the club.  And that’s okay. Because Magic has been there for me through the worst moments of my life. The night that Trevor yanked my engagement ring off my finger, and went to his mother’s, never to once again sleep in the home that we had made together, I slept in Magic’s stall. Huddled beneath a horse blanket ontop of a thick bed of sawdust, I never once questioned my safety. Magic was there the summer I had the abortion. I saw him every day that summer, and he brought me back from a dark place I hoped I never would see again. And he was there for me through what Apache did to me, and this summer helped to remind me of who I was before, and who I still am today.

Some people disagree that animals can love, and I challenge them on that. There’s no other explanation for the way that animals act with “their” people. How Magic breaks away from the herd to join me near the fence when he sees me, or my cat, Spooky, snuggles onto my chest when I’m laying in bed, purring so hard his drool wets my pajamas. He is a shy cat, and doesn’t act like that with anyone else that he’s known almost as long, people who are as eager to pet him. Nope it’s me he prefers. If only human males could remember the loyalty that their feline and equine counterparts displayed.

 Part of being free again means that I have mental space. My phone is quiet now. When Apache was in Afghanistan, we emailed back and forth constantly. I saved every email, in case the unthinkable happened. 6,000 emails in the nine months that he was there, not including the hundreds of instant messages that we shared whenever he was able to get on the computer. I still have those emails and conversations. His body may have come back from the desert, but the man I loved, he died out there. I’ve come to accept that. 

I’ve come to be okay with the quiet. I’ve stopped watching (most) television. I’ve started reading again. Today I started (and finished) The Help by Kathryn Stockett. It was an amazing book, about 1960s Mississippi, told from the perspective of three women:  one a young, white woman and two different African American women. The book, the author’s first, reminded me of E.L. Doctorow’s novels. Doctorow is one of my favorite authors—his story “Child, Dead in a Rose Garden” still haunts me.  “There is no history except as it is composed. There are no failed revolutions, only lawless conspiracies,” Doctorow writes in an essay called “False Documents,” about how history is not absolute truth, because it is written by those in power, to benefit themselves, to cast themselves in the best light. His books, such as Ragtime, The Book of Daniel, and The March, write about history from the perspective of the underdog—the characters that have been written out of or vilified in history.  

A major part of being free means that right now, I’m not dating. I’m not sleeping with men. I’m not even dabbling on dating sites. I’ve been hurt, badly, but yet I’ve felt this tremendous pressure to quickly find someone to replace Apache in my bed and heart because it would take the attention off of how much I’m hurting, and, perhaps, prove a point to him, if he asked about me. Maybe one day he’ll come to his senses, I’ve fantasized, and ask our mutual friends or his family, that I still talk to, about me. Aurora is incredibly happy with her new, handsome successful man, they’d say, shaking their heads. And he would feel the sting of pain that I felt, and realize Damn, I lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I didn’t realize what I had when I had her, and someone else did. But that’s all it is, fantasy. He will never again ring my phone, email me, or Facebook request me. Or if he does, it’ll be long past the time when I really want to hear from him. The sooner I accept that, rip off the remnants of this relationship like an old band aid, the better.

Even though I’m lonely, and wake up in the nights feeling cold because there’s no one beside me, I want to be alone. The wound is still healing. I think that’s why I’ve gained weight in the past four months (!) since our breakup. I don’t want to be attractive to men. Not yet. That’s hard. So many people try to fix me up with their friends, cousins, coworkers. But I’m not ready. People around here look at me funny when I say that. Not wanting to get married is considered a sin. In my town, it’s strange to see a 25 year old that’s not married or having children.

I’m working on combating the obstacles towards losing weight. I’m being more conscious about the hidden calories in things, and finding low cal alternatives for my favorite foods. I baked Weight Watchers Pumpkin Spice muffins (2 points!) to substitute for the 600 calorie monster, and found pumpkin-flavored coffee beans that are calorie free. My biggest hurdle to face is eating at night. Since Apacheleft for Afghanistan, and more so since our breakup, I’ve been sleepwalking to the fridge to eat. I know it’s an anxiety issue, and I’ve made an appointment with my therapist and APRN about medication. Hoping we’ll get it under control. I’ve promised myself that I’m going back to the gym this weekend.

I’m hoping that my life is on the up and up, dear reader. Tell me, what book (movie/tv show) that has made you take a good hard look at the truths of your own life?

So what happened? (a long post)

2 1/2 months out from the break up and after about 1 month of NC (no contact), I think I'm finally ready to tell you all about what happened.... without writing an entry that sounds like I'm vomiting emotions.

As followers of this blog know, I was dating a deployed United States soldier, who I refer to as Apache. Apache and I had, at least I thought we had, this amazing relationship that was able to survive a year-long deployment. We had discussed plans for moving in together, having children, the whole thing. I was completely and blindly in love with him, and thought that we could outlast anything. I knew that coming home he would have his own challenges reintegrating into society and dealing with PTSD. I resolved myself to stay by his side and help him through it all.

He came home in November 2010, and I knew things were different, immediately. He pulled away, and I watched as this close relationship we had fell apart. In January 2011, I found out that he had cheated on me with a girl he had been deployed with, and apparently he slept with her several times since he had come home. I confronted him, and we broke up. Two weeks later, he called saying how much he missed me and how much he had fucked up. We got back together.

We went through several on and off periods, usually when I found out that he had been sleeping with someone else. Why did i take him back? Because the army therapist i had been seeing kept telling me that this was "normal" for someone who had been deployed to act when he got home. So each time I confornted him about his infidelity, he would break up with me, and I would tell him "I love you. I'm here when you're ready." Two weeks later, he'd be back.

The last break up happened in May. It was the anniversary of his friend's death in Afghanistan, and he was going to the bar with friends. He had told me he was going to be getting extremely drunk, and I had told him I would pick him up whenever he wanted to go home. He never called, and when I checked his facebook the next day, I found out he had was extremely drunk and emotional, met this girl, told her his entire life story, and she took him and his roommate home, and he invited her out to dinner. I confronted him on it, and we broke up.


He didn't miss a beat and began seeing her. In fact, three days after the breakup, he told a mutual friend that "she made him believe in relationships again". WHAT?!?! He and I had broken up so many times that I didn't take the breakup seriously. There had been other girls, but he had come back to me. It makes me wonder how many of those other girls rejected him...I know at least one did.

Confronted by the reality of just how little respect for me he apparently has, I lost it. My ex wanted me to just fade silently into the background. I was angry and demanded explanations from him. We had been on and off so many times, that I didn't go no contact (NC). I carried on like nothing was wrong which had worked during push-pull before. And when I found out that he was going on a date with this girl, I was extremely intoxicated and resorted to the one thing I knew would hit him below the belt: I told him I was pregnant and that I was having an abortion. At the time, i wanted to make him hurt for all the times he had betrayed me & lied to me, humiliated me, and all the hurt I had endured since he had come home, after I had supported him through EVERYTHING he had gone through before, during, and after deployment. After I sobered, and realized what I had done, I came clean to him.

I still talked to him, and he would respond back to me... it was strained, but I was used to him needing a break, especially when he was stressing about something else in his life. I resolved to just give him time to come back.

A week after the breakup, I went to Washington DC with my students, and two things happened while I was gone. 1, a mutual friend of ours was struck by lightening and was listed in the newspaper as critical condition. 2. My doctor called me because they suspected a lump I had found in my breast the week before was cancerous. I contacted him for both those things, to see how his friend was, and to get support from him. He told me that his friend was okay, and told me he was sorry I was going through everything.

A week later, someone with a vaguely familiar name friended me on facebook. I accepted the friend request, and sent her a message asking how I knew her. While I was waiting for a response, I started browsing through her pictures. I found a pic of Apache and the new girl. The person who had friended me was her cousin. Right about that time, the girl sent me a message saying she thought I went to college with her. I sent another message back, telling her that didn't need the drama she was trying to bring, that dealing with the breakup was hard enough. She responded back that she didnt know what I was talking about...that my Apache had told the new girl that he had been broken up with me for months because I was "psycho." I responded back that she was sorely mistaken, we had been dating the night he had met her, and the new gf called me (my cell # was on FB). She was, at first, extremely sweet and apologetic, and said that she had no idea that he had a gf, and she would back off immediately. She must have confronted him. Apache texted me and told me how I had "ruined his life. And he never wanted to talk to me again." GREAT.

After that, I began receiving harassing messages from her. I really think that she had her cousin friend me to start drama between my ex and I to push us farther apart, and it worked. I didn't respond to her, and tried to keep my distance from him. After a month or so, I realized he was not coming back anytime soon, and a family friend of his told me that he had borderline personality disorder and sent me this link about how the BPD relationship starts. It was the perfect pattern of how our relationshp had started, and how his other relationships had been. I just wanted my things back, and would text him once a week or so to get my things back. She would respond every time from her phone-- acting extremely nasty, telling me how pathetic I am. Apparently, my ex is making me out to be the persecutor, and triangulating in earnest. I refused to engage with her, and wouldn't respond.

A month ago, I called him and left a phone message about my things. This launched a volley of threats and accusations from her. And then he called me back, with her screaming in the background, calling me all sorts of names and daring me to fight her. I had had it. I'm tired of being made to feel like I'm psycho for having developed anxiety/depression as a result of being in this relationship or pathetic for still loving someone I had been with for two years, and supported through a horrific deployment. Her words stung, and I grabbed my keys, and started driving the hour towards her house. My cousin, recognizing that I was about to get myself into a heap of legal/physical trouble, had her state police friends pull me over. I showed the troopers the messages from her, and they said that they would get involved.

A few days later, I got some nasty messages from my Apache about how ridiculous I was being for having the police involved to get my things back--things that I didn't need. I told him that it was not up to him to decide, and that I wanted to come get my things, or I would show at this house with a trooper. He said that I was "stalking" and "harassing" him (I had texted him only three or four times, and have purposely stayed away from the city he lives in.) And that he never wants to see or talk to me again, and if he does he would have the police involved. But I got my things back the next day.

Then, a week or so after, I get a message from the cousin:: "I'm not trying to get in the middle nut it's time for you to move on. Did you forget that I'm a nurse!? This breast ca bs is bogus. A dear friend and coworker of mine recently died suddenly of an undiagnosed cancer. It makes me sick to my stomach to think some one would use that to draw attention to themselves. I think it's time for you to move on and leave well enough alone. "

What the hell??!?!? I've said nothing to my ex since last week, why this? why now? the cancer was not made up, though luckily the operation I had two weeks ago to remove the lump came back negative for cancer. Thank God. But I wasn't about to call him and tell him that...

I blocked her on FB, and didn't respond. I'm not stupid. I know she's fishing for a reaction that she can use to make my exBPDbf even more upset with me. It makes me wonder, though, about how happy their relationship is. If it was the "perfect" relationship, she wouldn't feel the need to be this possessive or aggressive. Right?

Then today, I get a message from the girlfriend. Apparently, my facebook unblocked her last night (and I have to wait 48 hours to block her again): "Yes we are still together. You can quit stalking me. I can see when u block and unblock me. FYI."

I have half a mind to message back, but I do NOT need this shit. I want the drama to be OVER. All of this, is high school shit. I'm on the road to getting better, to finally letting him go and moving on. I have to focus on me, and do what needs to be done.

I left Ken for GI Joe

"Shit, gotta go, getting spun up, I love you. I'll email you later, baby," Apache typed.

"I love you too. Be Safe." I typed back, blowing him a kiss as he shut of the web cam.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine. later baby."

Saturday began in a rather idyllic fashion. I woke up to some texts from Apache, who was online. We FINALLY got our web cam to work and got to chat for a few hours like that. Being able to see his face makes me feel so much better, and it is hysterical to listen to the guys goof off in the background. On the plus side, it's mad cute to hear Apache told the guys about something funny "his girl said". It makes me feel really secure to know that the boys know about me-- they even know details, like I'm a teacher and I have a horse. Apache's closest buddy, MB, even calls me "the future wifey." LMAO.

Apache was on QRF duty-- QRF stands for Quick Reactive Force. In essence, he and his crew are back up in case a mission encounters problems.

He's gotten "spun up"-- sent out on missions-- before and returned home without making any contact with the natives. So, I didn't think much of it and got dressed, took care of Magic, and went shopping at Target for the rest of the things to include in his birthday box.

A few hours later, I got an email from him, "We're back. Contact Made" and my blood ran cold.

I mean, I knew that it would happen. He's not on a vacation in Afghanistan. He's cautioned me against asking too many questions that I dont really wanna know the answers to.

Before dating Apache, I was pacifist. Not for the war, but not against the soldiers that are fighting it since I know so many of them who joined to make a better lives for themselves. And dating Apache has cemented a very strong belief in me. I don't care what he has to do as long as he comes home safe.... I hold NOTHING he does over there against him.

The idea that he's in harms way scares me more than the idea of him going back to DogFace. I could pretend that he was on vacation as long as his QRFs came and went without incident. Now,I feel like there's a perpetual lump in my throat and I can't quite catch my breath. Since he sleeps during what is my afternoon, I spend that time worrying about him.  Thank God for the miracle of Internet and cell phones, cause if I had to wait weeks between letters, I would be a hot mess.

I wonder if Apache knew it would be like this and that's why he introduced me to his family. Being able to email his sister, aunt, mom, and dad really help. His sister even is a devout reader of this blog (*waves*) and you can thank her for the many updates lately cause she is constantly reminding me to update!

Seriously considering starting Wellbutrin again since I've always had a problem with anxiety. I weaned myself off of it this winter since I'm a bit of a purist about what goes in my body. The only reason I take birth control is because, according to my doctor, my cervix is too tight for it to be properly inserted. Trust me, I've tried three times after the pregnancy.

My heart is deployed, and I want it back...