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.

Broken Glass

When I was a child, my Memere had a candy dish that once belonged to her grandmother. Made of beautiful Beleek China, the candy dish adorned the table at parties and holidays. One day when I was a young teenager, Memere dropped the candy dish after she lovingly washed it. This piece of china, with its tiny, hand painted shamrocks, had survived the trip to America aboard a steamer from Ireland. Now, in America, it lay in tiny, shattered pieces across the floor.

Memere didn't try to pick the pieces up and glue them back together, even though the whole held so many memories for her. She knew, as we should know, that once it's broken it's always going to be broken, and it's better to accept that than to hurt yourself trying to piece it back together.

It's the same with relationships. Why do people insist on holding onto relationships that are not just cracked, but broken. Is it out of nostaliga or a longing for the once perfect past? Is it a fear of being alone? Is it out of guilt that we somehow had a hand in their undoing?

I'm dealing with this with Apache now. He is at a very confused place in his life. DogFace has him fully convinced, it seems that he is to blame for her infidelity, because he left her alone to go to boot camp. She also has convinced him that Jay, who she is living with as his girlfriend, deserves just as much blame. So Apache lives in this state of pereptual guilt, both fully believing that he is to blame, and also recognizing how incredibly illogical this guilt is, which makes him feel even worse about himself because he can't seem to rip himself away. He talks about taking revenge on Jay when he comes home-- about making him pay for all the pain he has caused. Yet, he can't doesn't want to make DogFace atone for her sins, by cutting her off and divorcing her. Yes, you read that right, Apache has not yet filed for divorce, and refuses to even think about such a thing while he's on deployment because he feels he has too much to deal with in country. He knows he has to make a decision, and since meeting me, his decision is complicated. When we first met, he was saying he was going back to her no matter what. Now, at least, he's doubting if he can trust her again (ugh, no!) and if he should be with me. His decision is no longer clear.

And DogFace is a master manipulator. Here she is, living with Jay, and parading around at his girlfriend. The only people that do not know about her new relationship are her family, who live in Utah. Her Facebook (because of her Mom) still says she's married. There are NO pictures of her and Apache on there, though, and there are some of her and Jay. Yet, she tells C that she is not sure what she wants. That she still loves him. That she still thinks about growing old with him. Yet, she's telling Jay the SAME THING.

And he's with me. He calls me his girl to his buddies and they know details about me. I've met his parents, sister, and extended family. He texts me non stop when he can. He talks about a future with me, about what it would be like to do all these things together both when he comes home on leave and when he comes home for good.

I know you all think I'm pretty stupid for sticking around in this situation. And I'm not going to argue with you. The thing is though, other than this situation, it feels pretty damn perfect. I love him, especially for this situation because I wish that someone (Trevor) would have fought that hard for me a year ago, and he loves me too. He's not the type of person to say something he does not mean, so I am not doubting him on his feelings there. I love his family, who are amazingly normal and wonderful to have in my life. I love how he supports me. I love how much fun we have together. I love how I am a stronger person because of him. If you asked me a year ago, if I could have handled dating someone who is not only on the other side of the world, but is in the line of fire, I would have laughed in your face. Solitude is never something that I am good at. For Apache, though, I'm willing to wait however long it takes to be with him.

Do I walk away? Right now, I'm saying no. All that shows him is what he already thinks. That being with him is too difficult. But I am not selfish, and I am a figher till the last bell sounds my victory or defeat. Maybe this will shatter in my hands, I'll end up cut-- but at least I'll have the memories.

Who you'd be today...

Inspired by a post from Amy at LaLa Land (a new follower!), I am trying out the steps to rid myself of this overwhelming sense of guilt and grief I've been carrying around for the past four months.

I had an abortion. There, I said it.

Jay and I got into a huge fight in April 2009. A month later, still very much addicted to him (and I strongly feel you can be addicted to someone as if they were a drug), I planned a party at my family's lake house. Partially to celebrate spring time, partially to reward myself for completing BEST, and majorly to lure him back into my life. I called to see if he wanted to party, and he accepted. So, I secured a keg of Bud Light (his favorite), rounded up my girls, bought some sexy lingerie (again, his favorite), and made sure I was as titalicious as possible.

He showed up, and it was like old times. We flirted back and forth, and it ended up with a scene in front of the fire- he kept trying to kiss me and I was being coy. Before I knew it, we were under twisted sheets. That night, the next day, and on Monday ( I took the day off), we had sex 15 times. FIFTEEN.  And, because we had dated before, and nothing had ever happened, it was unprotected.  The next weekend, I went to visit him, and, again, had sex several times.

Three weeks later, the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, I sat on my bathroom floor, staring blankly at the army of pregnancy tests that littered the counter, toilet seat, and bathtub ledge. Every single one of them, all twenty, read the same result: pregnant.

It is a known fact that Jay does not want to have children. Whether it was growing up the oldest of a large family, his narcissm, or from something that happened while he was a Marine, I'm not quite sure. It was one of the things that broke up his marriage, and he often talks about having a vasectomy. He's 27.

To make a long story short, I texted him, and he called me. He was first skeptical, then angry. He arrived (DogFace in tow) at my lake house that evening, where I had gathered close friends to make sure I was safe.

"Let's go," he said, as Dogface stood behind him, her arms crossed, and her face a mask of stone. He and I sat in the field across the road and talked.

"Why were you drinking?" he asked , refrencing the beer can I held in my hand. I hadn't drank any of it, it was for appearences only. He was more open than I had ever seen him, explaining exactly why he couldn't bear to be a father. Because it's not my story to tell, I'll leave that part out.  He said that it scared him that he should feel a natural instinct to protect his child, that he wanted to yell at me when he thought I was drinking. At one point, he said that when he heard I was pregnant, he stood in front of his gun cabinet and contemplated bringing his unregistred pistol. Red flags and warning bells flew up-- when he's angry, Jay is a very dangerous creature. He never actually threatened me, but the warning hung heavy in the air.  I told him that, thought it was unplanned, I wanted the baby, and that I had no problem in raising the child on my own. He still disagreed.

The next few weeks were a flurry of arguments and second guesses (on my part). He wouldn't hang out with me because he said that seeing me just reminded him of the situation. He didn't want to talk about how I was feeling emotionally, and didn't want me to tell anyone out of fear that his brother (and parents) would find out. I"m a talker. I need to talk things out. I need to tell my story over and over so it makes sense. And I was fucking scared. Despite the protests of my heart, my religion, my mind, and my parents, on June 4th, 2009, I found myself driving down to Jay's house so he could bring me to my appointment at Planned Parenthood. My reasoning was this: I didn't want to have a baby whose father was so vehemently against him or her; I knew I wasn't financially ready to have a baby; I had grad school ahead of me; there was question of whether I would be fired or not as a teacher; and I had hopes that Jay and I could work things out, and be together.

I arrived at his house, found him extremely hung over, and he drove me to the clinic. On the way he said that he hadn't expected me to show up. I almost didn't. I asked him how he felt about it. His response, "What do you want from me? Do you want me to cry? I cried enough over there."

I wanted to scream at him, "BUT THIS IS YOUR BABY; NOT SOMEONE ELSE'S." But, I didn't. I stared out the window in silence.

He went in with me to all the tests, and saw the ultrasound. I didn't. I couldn't look. But I do know that I was five weeks pregnant.

We all know how the story turns out. Jay is living with DogFace, having successfully broken up her marriage, and hurting her husband and me in the process. Unless she leaves him, there is no chance of us ever getting together in a relationship.

I'm not angry with him for not wanting to be a father...I understand the psychological damage his time in Afghanistan did to him. I'm angry for how heartless he was and how he didn't feel any emotion at all about the situation. Actually, I know he feels emotion about it. He does not want to talk about any of it, ever. I'm angry that he couldn't let his guard down for me, so I could at least feel some sort of kinship with his loss and guilt. I wanted to be comforted, and told that it was okay.

A major part of me wonders how the situation would have turned out if I had had the baby. I would be 6 months pregnant now.... I would be having a baby in January. I wonder if she would have left him, if she would have stayed with her husband, and agreed to work things out as he so obviously wants to work things out with her. A major part of me knows that it was fucked up that I let his opinion change me, out of hope for us. I could have raised the child myself, with the help of my parents, whether or not he wanted to be a part of his life financially or emotionally. Part of me says it's for the best, but the other part of my soul is heavy, knowing that I'm going to have to face this nameless child in Heaven, hoping that I didn't damn myself from whatever afterlife there may be.