Dealing with Life 

Have you ever been too sad and/or too angry to verbalize your feelings?

That’s where I am. I’m a big, knotted up, angry, sad mess right now and I’m okay with that.  So far not a day has gone by that I haven’t cried. Of course, I’ve only teared up so far today so they water works may be held at bay for a day.  Wouldn’t that be nice???

Dealing with hurt is never easy for anyone. When we are kids, we turn to our parents (or parental figure) for comfort until we learn how to cope on our own. Even as am adult, it would be nice to have that same comfort when the emotional pain is so severe. 

I suppose that’s why I pray. See, even as a kid I didn’t really have that parental (or parental figure) to turn to for comfort. I had God. So no matter how far from him I have strayed in my life, He’s always been there for me and let me lean on Him when my heart is broken. 

That’s a true support system. But it is one that takes faith and in times of heartbreak, it can be very difficult to have much faith, if any at all. However, if you can find just a little faith in Him, I guarantee it’s worth it. 

My faith is tested when things don’t happen as I prayed that they would or turn out how I felt they should. When this happens, my initial reaction is anger, disappointment, and frustration. 

Then I’m reminded that just because it didn’t happen the way I thought it should or when I thought it should, does it mean that God didn’t answer my prayer. It’s then that my faith is tested even more as I have to just understand that God is doing everything in his time, in his way.

Now, I know it may sound like I’m preaching. I’m really not. I’m just putting out there the way that I am able to get through a lot of my struggles. As I’ve said before, I am not a religious person. However, I am very grateful that I have a higher power that I can look too. I am blessed to have someone bigger than me that I can throw my problems on when they are too big for me to handle.



He left in such a hurry last night that I was concerned about him. So I waited little over an hour and then texted him. I told him that I missed him and it hoped you  would be able to stay  and that I love him  and also to please let me know that he was safe. No response.

I wait a little bit, I try to call. He doesn’t answer so I leave a voicemail (something I don’t usually do). I wait a little bit more, send him another text. No response. Anyway, you get the gist of where this is going.

Until finally, the crazy texts start. As usual, I have no idea what went wrong. What I do know is that the man that I love is nowhere to be found. He randomly appears, tricking me into feeling like things might be able to get back to normal. But just as quickly, he is gone and I’m left with the emotional torment that comes from this other person that had taken him over.

It’s killing me to know that I have no future with this man. I will try to get the strength this week to pack up the rest of his stuff so he can pick it up next weekend. Mourning the loss of someone who is still alive and who holds your heart is so damned tough!

I saw a pin that said: 

I wasn’t trying to fix him but I was trying to stand by him while he fixed himself. And I have been cut up on his shattered pieces. I know right now I feel like a broken person because of my broken heart. But the unfortunate reality for him is that he is truly the broken one.

I am a strong person, a Survivor, a Fighter.

Right now I’m doing with anyone with a broken heart would do: I am licking my wounds and morning this loss. I am crying a lot. When I am not crying, I am trying to sleep so I don’t cry. But then I just cry some more. 

It sounds pathetic but it won’t last forever. Like they say, this too shall pass, right? God, I sure hope so. 


Sometimes it’s hard to tell if your heart is just too big or if you’re just a glutton for punishment.

Friday was a wonderful day! The man on the other end of the phone was the man that I fell in love with. He was back. He asked me to meet him after work and so I agreed. We met at the park where we had our first date.

Everything was wonderful! He was him again. He apologized to me. He hugged me, kiss me, he held my hand, he held me. He just loved me at that moment and I could feel it. He reminded me that he had told me early on that he would marry me one day. He told me that nothing had changed, that he still wanted to marry me.  I smiled and promised not to burn my wedding dress just yet. He told me that he had never wanted me to take my engagement ring off . He told me that all the things that he had been saying we’re horrible and that he had not meant them, that it wasn’t him. We went and had dinner afterwards but I decided it was best for us to go our separate ways for the evening.

We had agreed that on Saturday, he would come to my daughter’s graduation banquet and then stay the evening so I could take him to meet up with some guys heading to Talladega on Sunday morning. We also agreed that if it anytime he felt his demons coming on, that he would go sleep in his truck. All night Friday night and all day Saturday, all I could think of is how excited I was that the man I love was coming home! 

Then he walks in Saturday evening…

He walked into the room then immediately grabbed me and kissed me. He kissed me multiple times. It was like he couldn’t keep his hands off of me. It was wonderful to see him but he seemed a little off, almost like he was struggling to be so upbeat which made him act in an over-the-top manner. I wasn’t sure if he had been drinking or if he had been using but as usual, I hope for the best and we piled in the car to leave.

The demons were slowly creeping in and I could tell. I looked out the front door to make sure the porch light was on and he immediately said I was checking to see  if the coast was clear and then left. I missed my turn which he found to be very suspicious, saying I should get my story straight. The lump in the back of my ponytail caused questions too. I quietly asked him several times on that 10 minute ride over if he was okay. He said he was.

All during the banquet, he was not him. At first, I had my hand on his knee as I so often do when we’re at a table together. After only a few minutes, he starts eating away from me. I snapped at him and said “well then” to which he responded “I was just moving, it’s nothing personal.”

The evening continues like this. I would try to speak to him, he would give me one or two word answers. He refused to eat his food saying he wasn’t hungry. I would tell him what me and my uncle were laughing about but he would just give me this blank stare. If it’s like I can only brush your mind, he would move further away, refusing to touch me.

We get back to the house and he doesn’t even come inside. He really gets out of my vehicle and into his own. He says “we agreed that if it then wasn’t right we just call it. So I’m leaving.” I tried to get him to talk to me for just a second but he refuses. So I stand there flabbergasted and watch the man I love leave me again.

He’s back

He’s back today (Friday).  By saying “he’s back”, I mean the man on the other end of the phone is the man I love.  We are both sad that things have gone down the way they have but I think he is going to seek some help with his recovery, at least I hope so.

It’s so strange that even though my heart has shattered into a million and one pieces because of this man, I still only want him to find peace in his life.  I want him to kick this demon’s ass that has been on his back for so many years and be the man he is supposed to be.  Of course, I wanted him to go through all of this with me by his side but that’s just no longer in the cards.

You can only be there for somebody if they want you to be.  It’s difficult to understand that your partner doesn’t want you around because of his memories of his drug-induced delusions that he feels are real.  My brain is absolutely unable to comprehend this, just like his is unable to comprehend that those memories are false.



So I had a friend who has known me for 15+ years talk with me this morning.  She works with me now and while she doesn’t know all of the details, she knows enough.  She has witnessed my pain each day for a while now but said when I walked in the door last week, I looked like I was just simply defeated.

I am.

She tried to comfort me by telling me that he is an addict (her husband is too) and that it’s not my fault (much like my other good friend has been reminding me).  She then said something that really hit home with me.

In all of the years she has known me, she said in every relationship I’ve ever been in, there has always been a wall of some sort up with whoever I was in the relationship with.  She’s right about this.


She said you let your guard down completely this time and let this man in.

I did.  I absolutely did.  I let him into the deepest parts of my soul.  I let him see all of me for who I am: the good, the bad, the ugly, the vulnerable, the loving, the hating, the everything.

Now my heart is completely broken.  I see him and I just crumble inside.  I have never loved anyone like this, didn’t even know it was possible.  I know that I’ll never love like this again.  For one thing, I’m not sure you can ever love more than one person so completely and openly.  If soul mates were real, I think he’d be mine.

All of this being said, walls are there for a reason.  Throughout history, walls were built to protect societies from being taken over by invaders. But they also always seemed to come down at one point or another.  The Walls of Jericho, the Berlin Wall, The Great Wall of China (okay, this one is MOSTLY still there but even sections of it are missing or in shambles).

Walls are also a defense mechanism your body builds to protect you from such intense pain and heartache.  This is something I have always taken great comfort in having.  But just like many walls throughout history, somehow mine came down and my heart was invaded by his.  I don’t know how or why it happened.  I don’t think he ever had bad intentions… he let his walls down too which is probably why it was easy for me to let mine down.  Peas and carrots… that was us…. peas and carrots without our walls protecting us.

Endless Supply

So many thoughts, so much heartache.

He came by to pick up some of his things last night.  He might be clean from meth but he is drinking pretty heavily.  As one can imagine, it did not go real well.  He spent a good bit of his time searching for evidence that “he” (the phantom I’ve been sleeping with) had been in the house. He even went as low as to look through my kitchen trash… I spent my time crying and answering him.  Crying, which according to him I wasn’t really doing.  Even when I took his finger to wipe my tears with it and said “then what is this?” his response as he wiped his hand was “Nothing.”  The devil was back.

“You let him wear my shirt?!?”  My response: “Smell the shirt, it’s clean or worse case, I wore it to bed but if it came from that basket, it’s clean.”  “It doesn’t smell like you!  You let him wear my shirt!”  I smell the shirt.  Smell like Gain laundry detergent.  So I tell him that it’s clean and ask him to smell it again.  “It smells like him!” and he flings it down.

Belts of mine in the bathroom: I’ve been tied up with them.  Underwear drawers open: I must be wearing underwear for him. His shirts on the bed that I’ve been sleeping in/with: “No you haven’t.” Sleep mask that was in a laundry basket: “Oh he blindfolded you with this”. Shirt in the basket: “bathing suit you’ve been wearing.”  Even my wedding dress was a lie to him: “You said you ordered this from China, the tags are in English.  You’re a f****** liar.” This goes on and on.  He asks several times for the ring back as he’s leaving the bedroom but never actually retrieves it.  I actually have a moment of sympathy for the friend who is helping him collect his things because he is having to witness a lot of this – can he see that his friend has lost his mind?  When finally leaves, I’m again left sobbing.

But only for a bit.  I turned on Netflix to watch “Last Man Standing”.  I was able to focus on this and thought “Hey, I’m getting better!”  Until my son calls to find out what I’d like for dinner.  I tell him I’m not hungry and his response was “Oh, so I guess he did come by.”  I get off the phone and cry some more.  Who knew I had an endless supply of tears?

Missing Him

It’s been nearly five (5) days since I have seen him. It’s been nearly two (2) since our last phone “conversation” – if you can even call it that.  It was more or less him yelling names at me (mostly whore or crazy b****) and telling me I’m crazy and do nothing but lie. The only contact had been through text and that is at a minimum on both sides. Given his mindset, I’m sure this is for the best. 

This angry man I’ve been experiencing is not the man I miss.  The man I miss, with the exception of glimpses I’ve had frim time to time, has been gone for a while. I miss his smile, his playfulness, his eyes, his laughter, talking with him, his love, and getting to love him in return.  I miss going to bed with him each night, miss him next to me when I wake up. I miss hugging him, kissing him.

He’s coming to get his stuff tomorrow. I don’t look forward to it at all. It’ll likely be this hateful, angry person who shows up at my house. I really don’t know how to handle him like that. His anger at me is not based on real events. You can’t defend or even discuss something that didn’t happen. 

The fact is, I just miss the old him, the man I was insanely compatible with and madly in love with. I miss the man who didn’t steal my heart. I gave it to him willingly when he asked for it but he still has a firm grasp on it. 

I miss knowing that he’s beside me on this journey we call life. I miss our hearts needing to be together as though they were the strongest magnets in the world. I miss feeling everything is right because without him, nothing does. 


Throughout the various times of trials and tribulations in my life, I always try to look at myself – regardless what the situation is – in hopes of improving myself and hopefully becoming an overall better person.  So in this situation, throughout my research on meth addiction, the word “codependency” kept coming up which has me looking really deep and asking a lot of questions about myself.

According to Merriam-Webster:

Definition of codependency

  1. :  a psychological condition or a relationship in which a person is controlled or manipulated by another who is affected with a pathological condition (such as an addiction to alcohol or heroin); broadly :  dependence on the needs of or control by another

Is this what I have become?  Did I become codependent because I loved him and wanted to stand by him?  Does loving someone make you codependent?  Does it make you weak? Is there any honor in trying to do what you feel is the right thing for the person you love, even if it means living in hell for a period?

I almost think the definition may depend on the outcome of the situation. If things had gotten better and he had been able to overcome the devil inside of him, would I then be considered codependent or would I have just been the woman that stood beside him on his trip through hell?  Then I would have just been labeled a strong woman for being able to put up with and/or survive this with him.

But since I failed at helping him and standing beside him, I think that means everything that transpired means I was codependent.  I didn’t want him to leave.  I wanted him to get better.  I wanted my old fiance back.  I wanted to suffer with him if it meant we’d have a long, happy life together.  In my eyes, everything would be worth it once we pulled through this together.

Together because I committed myself to this man.  I committed to be his partner, his best friend, his other half.  Therefore, I planned to stand beside him until the end – which I guess I did, I just didn’t realize it would be so soon.  So am I codependent?

I look at myself as one of the most independent women out there and have prided myself in that fact.  But when the two of us got together, I was glad to have a partner, someone I could depend on.  It was comforting to feel his arms around me at the end of a long day (or any day for that matter).  I felt safe, secure, and loved.  Is that wrong?  Surely love does not make you codependent although I can see where it could.

Yes, I can live my life without him but no, I do not want to.  I love this man and pray to God he gets the help he needs to fully recover.  He may never see past the devil’s sister his mind has turned me into and that kills me on the inside.  But when it is all said and done, maybe our love meant something to him.  It has definitely meant the world to me, he means the world to me.

When you let your guard down enough to be vulnerable with another human being, when you allow yourself to fall in love, you have to depend on them.  You have to depend on them not to hurt you, depend on them not to mock you, depend on them to have your back, depend on them to not leave, depend on them to love you in return.  So if loving someone means that you are codependent, then so be it.

Easier Said Than Done

So I broke my promise to him. I finally told a friend. He’ll likely never forgive me when he finds out. At least this time he’ll hate me for something real. 

Talking to a friend was actually very helpful…

She’s angry with me, of course. I mean, I just lied to her the other day while trying to cover up a crazy phone call she’d received from him (I blamed it on him being sick and taking too much cough medicine.) But in her anger, she was still there for me.

“He’s sick.” “He’s an addict and needs help.” “It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you, he’s an addict.” “You are in over your head.” “You can’t help him.”

Okay, so these are things I know but having someone tell you this, someone who knows you,  is more helpful than I would have thought. She’s right in all those things.  He does  need help but I can’t do it by myself, I’m in over my head. 

I want so desperately for him to get better. I miss the man I fell in love with. I want my future with him back. But as she reminded me that I have to take care of my family.

My dilemma is that I made him my family too and don’t want to abandom him. I guess I’m not. I’m here should he actually reach out. I just have to be sure I’m taking care of me and the kids first. I’ve mentioned him getting help, even just to see about anxiety meds for a while to help, but he thinks he can do this on his own. I hope he’s right. 

Now while he (hopefully) continues his road to recovery, now mine must begin. Mine’s much different and is actually more of a road to forgiveness. I have to forgive him for all of the pain he’s inflicted on me. But I think that will be easier than forgiving myself for allowing him to. 

Drama, Drama, Drama

One of my all time favorite guilty pleasure movies is “How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days”.  One of my favorite phrases is from a supporting character, Jeannie: “Drama, drama, drama.”

This is what my life is now.  One minute I have hope for the future with the man that I love and the next minute, I’m not even sure who he is.  He acts like one minute that he wants to be with me but let me have one misstep – such as not answering the phone when he calls (but returning the call in within six (6) minutes) or when trying to absorb him suddenly changing our dinner date, forgetting about that I would be attending a golf tournament that day (something he already knew about so why would I try to hide it now?)  I told him I couldn’t leave work early.  His initial response: “Really”.  Then after a minute or two realized that Wednesday I had the tournament that I volunteer at (real hard work running a margarita machine, LOL!)

The latter is what caused the phone call at work to tell me that I am lying whore.  To tell me that he wants nothing more to do with me, that he’s never hated anyone as much as he hates me.  He hates me for all the crazy things he says I have done that I have not done and now calls me crazy.  I’m a crazy, lying whore.  Wow.

I’m just astounded at the amount of drama this man seems to be intentionally creating even though he swears he doesn’t want drama.  Even after we get off the phone, him letting me know again that he doesn’t want any part of me, that my p**** wasn’t that good and has now been banged up by “what, 10 guys in the middle of the night?”


I think I will have to confide in a friend finally.  I just don’t know how much more I can take on my own.  I am beat down by his emotional and verbal abuse.  It’s like he has become this horrible bullying monster.  He calls me the devil’s sister.  I’m no angel but definitely not the devil (or his sister).  I’ve tried to stand beside him, as he asked, through thick and thin and especially through his recovery.  I have to keep reminding myself that I tried.  Of course, it doesn’t ease any of the hurt or pain.

Is this what one gets for falling in love at my age?  Well, I think I’ve had my fill of “love” so once I get over this one, I think I’m done.  I’m too old for “Drama, drama, drama”.