Remembering...

I'm starting to remember weird things about being in the house. Things I didn't remember before, things that seem and feel meaningless. I didn't really get it. Why is this coming up now?

I talked about it with my therapist and she said this was a good thing. She said that my brain is starting to process what happened. Instead of just thinking about it and it all passing by in a huge, scary blur, punctuated by massively terrifying or traumatizing or upsetting highlights, I'm starting to actually slow it down... watch it as it really happened. She said this was part of the process and this is a great development. She also said I should start writing everything I remembered down so I could continue to process it.


I remember standing in the driveway two doors down from their house, talking on the phone with my friend Colette. I was afraid to do it, and she was trying to encourage me that it would be okay, and that this was the right thing to do. What was the worst that could happen? We made a plan for her to check in with me over text or phone in about 15 minutes. If I didn't answer, she was to call the police. I gave her the address of where I was at. I also communicated with my friend Vince (I don't remmeber how) and had him do the same thing, take down the address, and watch the clock.

I remember standing there on the phone, in this neighbor's driveway, pacing. Somebody in the house next door was outside, trimming his lawn with one of those hand operated things- the quiet ones, not the machine. I think.  He was doing something with the lawn, but it wasn't loud. He was white and had dark hair I think.

I paced and panted in the driveway for awhile and kept peeking at the house, unsure if someone was in there, or what I should do.

I finally hung up the phone with Colette and walked over. When I got to the porch, I hesitated again. I started trembling a little and I remember starting to sweat. I had jeans on and this navy blue shirt from Down East that had lace on the bottom. I had pinned my hair up with a clip on top of my head. I forgot to take it down; I'm sure it looked stupid.

I stood on the porch and shifted my weight back and forth. I listened to hear if anybody was in there. I couldn't tell. I remember being really hot. Sweating. I hesitated a couple more times knocking or ringing the bell before I finally rang the bell. At least, I think I rang the bell. I remember staring at the bell for a long time.

It took a long time for her to come to the door. It felt like forever, but it was at least a few minutes. I could hear her rustling around in the house, moving around. I stepped to the side and I remember leaning against this pillar on their porch. I remember noticing Matt's white sneakers on the steps. There were some other things out there. Maybe a green plastic child's bucket. But mostly I remember the shoes. I remember wondering if they were those bright white sneakers he wore on our first date that I had hated. I felt annoyed to see them there. More evidence that I was right, I guess.

I leaned against that pillar, out of sight of the peephole. I didn't know who was in the house and I was afraid if it was Matt and he saw me out there that he wouldn't open the door. If it was him I didn't want him to know it was me. I stared up at the ceiling of the porch and closed my eyes and tried to breathe. Finally the door opened.

Sydney was standing there, I think the baby was clinging to her leg. She had a spaghetti string tank top on and pants that didn't really fit. Mostly I looked at her face... and the baby. When I looked at her, I looked at someone who sort of looked like myself. She had glasses and dark hair.

"Are you Sydney?"

She nodded her head.  "Yeah."

She had this questioning look on her face. I asked her if she could step outside and talk to me. She said "Okay, " or "sure" or something. Still questioning. I wonder now what she was thinking when she saw me standing there. Face all red from crying, shaking and trembling and shifting from one leg to the other standing on her porch. I probably looked like a wreck. If I didn't already, then I was about to.

"Can someone take the baby?" I asked. I didn't want the baby to hear or see her react, and I didn't know how she would take it.

She said no, and I asked if she was home alone and she said yes. She picked the baby up and put her on her hip.  She opened the door a little wider when she picked up the baby and I could see a little bit of the hallway, but I wasn't really looking there.

As soon as she said she was alone I couldn't look at her anymore. "Okay," I said, relieved. I didn't realize until that moment how afraid I had been that Matt was still back in the house somewhere I couldn't see. I looked up at the ceiling again and exhaled and said,  "This is going to be awkward."

Then I launched into it.

"For the last year and a half I have been dating this guy. It's been great, we were crazy in love and it has been just wonderful."

I can hear myself say that in my head. And then it's a blur. And then the end. " He started acting really strange, and I found out he's been lying to me... I think he's been lying to me. I think he's married. He told me his name was Matt T-- but I think his name is really  L--"

I had looked at the wall, the ceiling, the door, the doorbell the entire time I was talking, stammering all of this out. I remember my whole body flushing and feeling so hot. My voice shook as I talked. I just couldn't look at her though. When I finished, I finally glanced back up to her face and she just stared at me. There wasn't even a look of shock, she just.... stared. The baby was quiet, she was quiet, and we just stared at each other. She stood in the doorway with the baby on her hip and just stared. I didn't know what to say. Finally I opened my mouth again and said, "I have pictures."

Then she spoke. " I need to see them. NOW." The rage was just exploding out of her at every word. She was the one shaking now, but with anger, not fear. (Like I was.)

Then it's blank again. And I don't remember what happened. I remember once I turned away off the porch I began to shake and cry hard. Hysterically even. I had my arms crossed over my chest as I walked back to my car to get my purse. It was full of pictures, love letters, his tie that he had left at my house after court one day. A little scrapbook album of his love notes and pictures of us.

When I walked back to the house (I had parked around the corner so if it was Matt at home that he wouldn't see my car out front) I frantically went through the little cardboard Target sleeve of pictures I had had printed of the two of us. I was looking for the least incriminating one. In all of the pictures of us together he is always looking at me, so lovingly. His eyes just... sparkled. He looked delighted to be looking at me. In the other ones we were kissing. I found one of us just smiling looking at the camera, lying down on my bed and held it out as I crossed their driveway, stepped over their little row of hedges and back on to the porch. As I handed it to her, the baby squealed, "DA-da!" and took the picture from her.

Sydney looked down at the picture and said "Come in," calm now.

As I walked in, as I was literally stepping over the threshold, she asked, "What number do you have for him?"

I stumbled through my phone to get it, and not show her the last text I had from him. I showed her the number and read it as I did and she shook her head and said, "Yep, that's his number."

She put the baby down and marched over to her phone. It was sitting on a bar stool in the hallway in front of their computer. I was struck looking at her iphone. She and Matt had a matching set. I wondered if they had gotten some deal for getting two, and realized they shared a phone plan, among so many other things.

She picked up the phone and dialed, while the baby starting singing "Da-da!" holding that picture of him and I, running around gleefully.

Sydney started screaming and cursing into the phone. She had called him. "Get your f****ing a** home right now!" I could hear mumbling on the other end. She screamed something else and then, "Your f****ing girlfriend is here! You want to tell me why your F****ING GIRLFRIEND IS HERE? Get your f****ing a** home right now!"

Then it's all a blur again.

One of the new things I remembered was she called someone else too. She made a series of phone calls but this one I forgot. Somebody was supposed to come over for dinner that night. It sounded like a couple or a family. She told them they would have to cancel and made all the niceities on the phone. She said something had come up.

It was really strange to remember that because I really had no memory of it at all until like a week ago. Such a mundane, unimportant detail and suddenly the memory was there like it had always been there. But it was new to me. I can see her standing in the hall looking down at the phone to call and then talking.

At another point, she picked up the baby again and got a little too close to the wall and the baby grabbed a framed picture of herself, a big 8x10 on a blue background and pulled it off and it smashed to the floor. I hadn't remembered that either.

I remember staring at the fishtank next to her and being so mad. Matt had told me he had a Nemo and Dory fish. The tank was filthy dirty- all green and covered in algae and looking like it hadn't been cleaned in a long time. I looked at the tank and felt so mad. I knew he had the freaking fish in this house but I hadn't known about HER?

Just now as I write this I remember telling her about the blanket I had made his dog, Megan. I had emboirdered it with her name on it, and it had a pink satin blanket binding on it.  She looked at me blankly- he had never brought it home I guess. I wondered if he had dumped it in a trash bin on the way home after I gave it to him. I wondered where it was. I had worked so hard on it and it was probably in a dumpster somewhere.

I said something about texting and she asked "What kind of texting?"

"What do you mean?"

"What kind of texting? Sexting?" Some other questions.
I was embarrassed and stammered out a "No, normal texts, like 'Hi' 'How are you' 'I love you' 'Have a good day'."  That wasn't entirely true though and it went alot further than "Hi" in all honesty. He was my boyfriend, we were going to get married and didn't see each other often. I was so embarrassed.


I can't write about this anymore.

I look at this picture and I just don't see this man who was going home to this woman when he left me. It just confuses me. It boggles my mind. I look at him and I see my Matty, the man I loved and who was so great to me.

I'm on my old computer right now because my regular laptop broke and I found this letter I wrote him in April of 2010 for our anniversary. I don't know if I gave it to him or not. Probably. I edited some parts out because they are too personal, and the original is in a handwriting font and covered in little hearts...but here's most of it:

 I love you because…

You make me laugh.


You are sweet and loving to me.


I know you will make a wonderful husband and an amazing dad.






 I love you, because you love me. I love you because you accept me for who I am, and do not judge me or criticize me.


I love you because you make me feel safe. Nothing bad could ever happen as long as I have you to protect me.






I love your giggle, smile and laugh. I can’t help but grin and laugh when I hear it.






 I love you because when I look at you, I see my future.






I love your rainbow eyes, and I love nothing more than to lay on your chest and listen to your heart beat.






 Before we even met, I had such high hopes for us. And every moment more I spend with you, the more my heart swells with all of those hopes.






I love you because you support me and believe in me and in my dreams.






I love that you are responsible, hardworking and dedicated. I love that we share the same morals and values. I know I can always count on you to do what is right.






I love how you hold my hand, and how you look at me. I love your intelligence, your wit, and your sense of humor. I love your arms around me. I love how your eyes pierce mine.






Sometimes I feel like you can see inside my soul. Sometimes I think you know my thoughts before I’ve even spoken them. I love you because you know me.


I’ve loved you more, and more deeply than I have ever loved anyone. My connection with you overpowers my senses. From the tips of my toes through my entire body I can feel my love for you. When I see you, my whole body smiles. I can’t keep a grin off my face when I am with you.






I love you, because you make me happy. You are my partner, my lover and my friend.


I love you.






 Love,


Emily 4/9/2010





PS: How ‘bout THEM apples? Hee hee hee…



 His wedding anniversary would have been a month after I wrote this.

Asking why

Why did he do it?

Just... Why?

I haunts me all day, every day. I even wrote him an email (and deleted it) asking him WHY.

Why did you do it Matt? Why?

More Airport Drama

I flew to Southern California on Saturday for my high school reunion. The whole day sort of started out on the wrong foot; I forgot my dog's shot records at home and the boarder wouldn't take him without the updated records in hand (no faxes) and I had to drive all the way back home with the dog to get it, drive him back, check him in, and then dash to the airport.

When I got there, I found they had moved Southwest from the old terminal to a new one, with a tram and a huge who-knows how many stories vaulted ceiling interior with glass windows- fancy. Like Dulles. Also like Dulles, it has a tram. (Gosh what a waste of money for such a small airport that never has any lines!)I was thrown off right from the start, and it only got worse when I got to security.

They didn't have the old metal detectors... They only had the new ones that scan your whole body. The kind I am afraid of and had to have therapy sessions specifically for last February (when I went to Las Vegas for WPPI) to prepare... and then didn't have to go through them.

 

Images of body scans... Some are fake, some are real, I don't know which are which, but all look horrible to me.

I broke out in a cold sweat and was afraid I was going to freak out when I realized there was no getting out of this and that I was going to have some strange man look at some scan of my body and I would have to raise my hands over my head. (Which is awful for me because it makes my chest feel very exposed).

But... I did it. Which is huge. I managed not to get hysterical or cry noticiably. Great.

Then when I got through the other side I was greeted immediately by a TSA officer who said I needed to be patted down and be searched.

Goodbye Emily.

I flipped.

Hysterical, crying, hyperventilating, panting. They got me to a bench with my head between my knees, but I was getting that black tunnel vision you get right before you pass out. It was bad. Really bad. I had three officers guarding me on the bench while I was panicking, and when I calmed enough to hear them, they led me into a back room to be searched and patted. HYSTERICAL. Full blown panic attack and there was just no even reasoning with me. I was gone. The panic just took over. You could have said anything, I just wasn't "there." It was awful. Being touched by them was horrible and violating. I saw Matt in my head the whole time and shook with fear.

This isn't the person I was, or am... I guess maybe it is the person I am now. Flying, going through security, a pat down... not a problem before. Now it's an ordeal so awful I can't even function.

Fears

There are alot of things I am afraid of right now. Real-life things- like men, being touched, police officers... and then there are things in my future I am afraid of or for. They almost haunt me. I think about them quite a bit and worry. I didn't use to have too many fears for my future, but now they are things I think about way too much. Going through trauma has changed me in ways I don't like, but it happened and that's a fact. My therapist has told me that fears like these keep me safe for right now while I heal, and once things are better, I will push those boundaries to a new level I am comfortable with. I still worry it won't ever happen. Are there things you worry about like this?

I am afraid things will always be exactly as they are now. That my life will be awful, that I will always be trapped in my house and things will never, ever change.

I am afraid I will never be comfortable being touched again.

I worry about how I will ever date if when I try to think about it, I scream and push away- even in my day dreams- just at the thought of holding hands.

I am afraid I won't ever trust anyone in the way I used to. That I won't ever be able to believe.

That I won't ever have children, a family, or fufill any of the lifelong dreams I have had about my life.

I am afraid of never being happy.

I am afraid of always being afraid.

I am afraid that I will never fall in love with someone else the way I did with Matt, and never meet someone who I have a connection with as strong as the connection was between him and I.

That I will never move on.

***************************

Halloween Dog Party

Our dog park has a facebook group and through that we coordinated a Halloween dog party! All of the "kids" dressed up, and some even had multiple costumes. You'll see Opal, the corgi/mini aussi mix in both a fairy/tinkerbell costume AND in a skeleton costume.

My Charlie Brown didn't dress up... he went as himself! He is wearing his Charlie Brown classic yellow and black sweater with the zig zag. It's just his regular sweater, so that's not a costume right? lol

I am listening to "Stitch by Stitch" by Javier Colon from The Voice right now. I feel caught in between; I don't have someone who "heals me" (other than God) but I wish I did. (Beware on that video they have the lyrics and they use the wrong "your" and it will drive you up the wall. lol)

Here is Rex!

 And I think this is Greta. She was a frog.

Dexter the clown!

Opal as a skeleton.

Maddy the queen.

Dennis as a witch!

Avi the lobster. He was very afraid of the shutter on my camera. He is a very shy dog so he stays with us on the "little dog" side of the park.

Here's my Charlie in his "street clothes." LOL

Opal after her costume change into her tinkerbell costume!

Opal, Charlie in the very back and the little girl is the basset hound Maggie's big sister.

Maggie the basset was a ballerina in her tutu. She is sitting on Opal. Don't worry, Opal totally deserved it biting Maggie's ears!

I'm still here.

I hope I haven't worried you.

I just got an email from someone who wanted to make sure I was okay because I wasn't blogging. I guess it's been more than a month since I've updated and given the tone of most of my posts...I can see how that would give you cause for concern... I haven't blogged on my work blog in a week either, so I wasn't sure which blog they were referencing, (aka, the context in which they knew me) and even though I recognized their first name as someone I thought I knew from this blog, I wasn't totally sure... So I didn't want to launch into "where I've been" in case it was a client or "fan" of my work talking about my work blog. But I think I know who it was... but I wasn't sure. I don't know this gal's last name in real life, at least, I didn't remember it.

Anyway, I answered the note neutrally until I know how the writer knows me- from my personal life, or professional life, and then I can either spill my guts or give a professional answer and chuckle [professionally, of course.]

Where have I been?

I'm sure you'd like to hear about me lounging on a beach in the bahamas with a pina colada and a cabana boy and doing excellent, but that hasn't been the case. :(

At the end of the September a reader confided about some deceit she had caught her spouse in- explosive, like mine, although not the same situation, and it's really hard for me to be neutral or helpful because I just, well can't. I don't know how to help. I still have one more email from that person I keep meaning to open and haven't. I'm such a mess myself I don't know how to be a support to someone else. It makes me feel terrible because that's not who I used to be. I feel like I don't have much left to give, but maybe that's because I'm still trying to heal? On the other hand, I know how much it means to ME when other people share their stories with me so maybe I need to try harder. It's just SO HARD.

October was an incredibly rough month. I went off all but one of my medications. (I'm on three.) I ran out of my anti-depressants that had been perscribed to me when I had Kaiser last year (that I had hoarded) and was left with just my anxiety meds. This was not a good idea. I saw a psychiatrist for the first time since last fall and she officially diagnosed me as PTSD and tried to give me a Xanax prescription, she really felt I needed it, but as I have a sister who is a recovering addict (six years sober!) I am not comfortable taking any medication that is easily abused or is easy to become dependant on. We have multiple addicts and users in my family. My sister was a methamphetamine addict for 10 years. we are lucky she is alive, let alone a productive member of society with a great job, a partner and a college degree. I don't want to expose myself to medication that I may be prone to being "attracted" to, even though I have never abused or used drugs.  After explaining all of this to the doctor, she agreed and wrote me new Rx's for my medication. The problem was, with my new insurance, I lied when I applied and told them I didn't have any mental health issues because I believe that is why Kaiser terminated me, and I feared they would not accept me if they knew the extent of my problems right now. So I was going to have to pay for this doctor's appointment ($300) out of pocket, and these Rx's. I had to find a pharmacy, which was really overwhelming for someone who is off their medication and crying all day. The doctor also wrote the Rx for the wrong dosage on one medication, and wanted to call in the correct dosage into whatever pharmacy I used, rather than just writing me a new 'script, which if you know me, or at least how I have been since all of this has happened, that is just really overwhelming and upsetting. So before I could get my complete Rx, I had to find a pharmacy. I was officially "paralyzed" from doing anything because of this, if that makes any sense.

I was dealing with all of this stuff off my meds. It was UGLY.  Try coping with extremely stressful, emotional situations when you're dealing with untreated major depressive disorder. VERY BAD.  I thought about ways to "get out" alot. Calmly, rationally. Like, emailing people lists of things that needed to be done after I was gone. That's the kind of "clarity" that comes with being off medication. My therapist was NOT pleased. She gave me a deadline to find a pharmacy, which was Tuesday of this week- November 1st.

On Monday, Halloween, I went to Target and Walmart and got quotes for my medication. My anixety medication apparently runs almost $300 for a one month's supply in generic form. I have never felt so desperate. How am I supposed to treat myself, or take care of myself with a medical bill like that? Especially if I have to hide it from my insurance? I was surpringsly calm (I still had more pills of that medication left, I hadn't run out yet, and the other two medications were cheaper, $15/month and $60/month). I checked CanadaDrugs.com, but it was the same story... that one drug was really expensive.

Finally I thought to check Costco and that was a lifesaver. I got the two cheaper medications for $30ish bucks and the expensive one I think it only $60/month. DOWN FROM $300! How is that even possible?! It is such a blessing and a relief! Thank you Costco!

I started my anti-depressants again on Tuesday afternoon. They have me on a new kind of pill- called extended release, instead of suspended release (sustained release?) which means I only have to take a pill once a day instead of twice. I took it Tuesday and Wednesday and forgot today. :( It's funny though, by Wednesday, I was already starting to feel better...


The other bad thing that happened in October was at a wedding. I was... I guess... assaulted by a guest at a wedding I was working at. I was getting ready to shoot the first dance and had my back to him and I was looking at my camera. This man, a groomsman, ran his hands all over my body, groped me, and slapped me. I shoved him off me, and jumped away and told him to not touch me again. I started shaking really hard and started to cry, but by then the dance had started, so I had to start shooting. So I shot the first dance, crying and shaking like a leaf. As soon as it was over I went to the bathroom and cried. I texted my friend and told her what happened and tried to calm down.

I don't even like being hugged by men in my family. I get uncomfortable at family dinners sitting next to men I KNOW. In my German class, my teacher sends me out in the hall when we do group activities because I panic and start to cry if the men/boys in our class talk to me. This man... what he did... I don't know how they find me. I don't know how this, these things happen to me. Why? What have I done that makes people do things to me? I don't understand. I don't want to be a victim... But how do they FIND me?

*****
I feel like I should end this on a high note.

(Why I have NO IDEA)

I shot a wedding today, and I wore... A DRESS. From... ANTHROPOLOGIE! And.... PATTERENED TIGHTS! I know, RIGHT? Amazingness! I felt so chic! And I stuck a headband in my hair too! And blowdried it, and straightened it a little with the curling iron! (I think the cat peed on my straightener, so I didn't want to use that... [long awkward pause] anyway... So exciting, right? Oh, and the dress had POCKETS!

It was super expensive, the most expensive dress I have ever bought, I'm pretty sure, but I was thinking I could wear it to every wedding every weekend and just wear a different sweater set over it for the next five years. What do you think? It was very comfortable, the fabric is just so nice!

 

This is the dress. Mine has straps though- spaghetti straps, but straps none the less. Maybe they are removable. Maybe I should look and see. I really liked it BECAUSE it had straps. Today I wore it with a pumpkin orange sweater and pinky raspberry poetic license modest heels- for a couple hours. Then my feet were killing me, so I switched to black flats with bows on them from Target. I really wish someone had taken my picture or that I had taken  a picture in a mirror because I really liked how I looked!

Another rough night of tears.

So wound up. SO, SO wound up.

Over the weekend, shooting an engagement session, I was following the couple from one shoot location back to their house. They literally led me, in their car right past Matt's house. Literally. We went down that road, that road that I went down on that day. And this white pick up truck, just like his, appeared in my rear view and I was just... overwhelmed with panic.

It wasn't him, and I was luckily very checked out because I was working, but I am getting other triggers now, and processing that... I am,I am just... so upset.

I am sitting here, shaking, crying hard.

I am owed an explanation for his behavior. He owed that to me. I should be able to ask him why he did this to me. How is he allowed to do all of these things to me, and then just GO BACK TO HIS FAMILY and LIVE HIS LIFE?! Like normal? Like nothing ever happened?


They have a new baby! They had a new baby, two weeks ago. That child was conceived, what, three months after I went to the house that day. When I found out about that baby, it was like the world came down on me.

If I had not found out the truth about Matt, or, if he had been telling the truth... that would have been my baby. We would be married. I would be pregnant... RIGHT NOW.

Instead, I am sitting here, in my dirty apartment, alone. I haven't showered in days, crying my eyes out. I'm trying to make sure I get an appointment with a new psychiatrist for my anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication so the scary thoughts in my head quiet down. And THEY are a 10 minute drive from here, in their lovely house, with their beautiful children... living this charmed life with each other. Pretending I never existed.

While I live, and carry the burden and consequences of every mistake, sin, and just plain old horrible thing that man has ever done- and the bad things I believe that that woman is doing to both herself and her children by pushing such huge issues under the rug.

Forgive him! they tell me. What good will that do? Then he is absolved of all of his crimes. And *I* will still be here, carrying this burden. You can't make me stop carrying it. I haven't even figured out all of the crap that I'm holding here, let alone been able to put it down. I have to forgive myself first. And I don't know that I want to forgive him. And I don't have to. And no one should ever tell me I should do anything... Maybe you should pin a rose on your nose!

There are so many problems to work through. That is the problem. And I know, that really, I am doing great! My therapist actually CHEERED for me in therapy today. Because when I drove past his house, when I realized where we were going... I had the conscious thoughts, all of those horrible thoughts- "Where are we going? No, not there! I'm going to see him! Is he behind me? He's going to hurt me! What about the baby? Where is She? I don't want to see them- I- uh-" but I stopped myself from going down the downward spiral. I just had the awareness of my thoughts, and where we were, and I stopped myself. She said my coping mechanisms were amazing, and for a trigger that huge, it was unbelievable. That this was an indicator that someday, I was going to be able to drive around this neighborhood, and remember, yeah, something bad happened there... but it wouldn't have the same effect on me then as it does right now. That by working I was 90% checked out, and so by going by there, and nothing terrible happening.. it's desensitizing me to the triggers of places and things that remind me of him. Great, right?

It doesn't feel great. It doesn't feel like progress. It just feel likes pain. And hurt. And being ripped in two. Them ignoring me, pretending I never existed... Him pretending he never knew me... I have never loved any one more, and no one has ever made me feel more special or loved. No one has ever made me feel like I could do anything and conquer the world! With him I could fly! Part of me wants to be acknowledged... our relationship acknowledged. I existed. We loved each other so much. But to them I don't exist. And if I act like I do, if I contacted them, I would be slapped with some kind of legal repercussion so fast I'm sure I wouldn't be able to breathe.

They can strike out at me. But I can't at him. Because I don't matter. I am worthless. I don't even exist.

Part of me is screaming inside,  wanting to be remembered.... And wanting my life back. Wanting him to come home, and being startled every time someone knocks on the door. There is always a two second delay every time I see someone standing there. I always think it is him. It has been a year and I still do. Still. I really do.

Then there are all the betrayals. I never mention it, but he cheated on ME too. We were together a year and a half and he was crawling into bed with someone else when he left me. I can't even think about it, it is so painful. He had both an emotional and physical relationship with someone else. I can't even acknowledge it in therapy or talk about it. My pain isn't supposed to "count" in that area because he was married to her, but really, it doesn't matter. We were in a committed, monogamous relationship. We were getting married. I had ordered the white silk fabric for my wedding dress- twice- but the order kept getting canceled or back ordered. And he was leaving me, and laying with someone else. He cheated on me. I can't even own those feelings, but I know they belong to me.

Then all of the lies, ALL of them. Someone looks you in the face, with excitement, and love and tells you that you are only the second person they have ever said "I love you" to... I know for a fact that that had to be a lie based on his relationship history. He was engaged once before his wife. There's two "I love you's" right there. That makes me number three, not two. At least.



He told me his parents were so excited to meet me. He relayed messages from them. We'd be having dinner and he'd get a text, "Oh, it's my parents! I'm telling them you say Hi." "Awww, they say Hi too, they want to know how you are?"

I seriously doubt his parents were corresponding with his married son's girlfriend.

How about all of the psychological issues? The PTSD? The flashbacks? How about trying to breathe through panic attacks while driving on the freeway when you hear police sirens? Ever try that?  I ran out of one of my medications a couple weeks ago- maybe longer ago than that and it is affecting me, deeply. I have an appointment for September 22nd with some lady. I don't even know if my insurance covers her or how much she costs. Or even what methods of payment she accepts. But I can't live where my highs are being mentally checked out, feeling anxious and eating constantly, and my lows are wishing I was dead.  The rest of the time, I pretend. I am great at pretending.  The insomnia is at it's peak right now, I am up all night, I sleep for a couple of hours in the morning, wake up startled every couple of hours.It's awf ul.

Right now, today, in this moment, I hate my life. I hate it, and I hate him too. All I want is to go bang on his door and demand an explanation for leaving me like this. Someone, anyone out there, I wish someone knew them and I could beg you, to beg them to let me talk to Matt. I deserve closure. I deserve to be able to ask him why he did this, did he ever care, how if he loved me how could he have led me on like that when he knew it would have had to end- or blow up in all of our faces at some point. Every fiber of my being needs to know so badly. I hate him and love him so intensely all at once. There is no more confusing state of being than this.

If there was no wife... there would be nothing keeping me from contacting him, honestly. It is out of respect for her and preventing pain to her that I do not contact them. It would hurt her if I did, and based on her last contact, she would strike back at me. I also believe that if I contacted him that he would turn around and tell her immediately so he wouldn't get in "trouble" for the contact- thereby making me the bad guy. If I contacted her first, it would hurt her. I can't win. I don't know how to get closure or get my answers. I don't know how to let go of so much insurmountable pain in any other way other than this slow, process, which is, the right way to do it: working through it.

But I still can't help but fail to understand why they can have more rights- protection for his job, protection from me contacting them (I assume if I did they would find some way to call it harassment, I'm sure, there has to be) but I can't do ANYTHING about all of the things he did.  I do not agree that there is no legal case here...  I was in a support group dealing with the constant upset he was supposedly enduring during our entire relationship. He told me he was suicidal. Clearly, he was not.  And what purpose does telling me your father has had a second stroke and is going by ambulance to the hospital four days after we "took a break" while I am working a wedding four hours away, other than to upset me? (When his father truly had NO health issues.) I spent the rest of the night trying to coordinate a way to get up to him to be by his side... He stopped answering messages when he got to the "hospital" -I was in a panic. I even told the bride what was going on I was so upset. What purpose did that serve? I even checked the obituaries in the days after when he would not respond to my calls. He made it sound like an emergency, and now, now answer? Did his Dad die? (Um, no. Again, shining picture of health.)  He had already "moved" in with his parents several hours away after the first stroke... Why a second pretend stroke? And why all the stories about being harassed at work and no one responding to his calls for back up? He basically told me his life was in danger because his colleagues wouldn't help him. I was afraid for him! Then of course him being the victim in being fired-- I was so upset- and then his friend died in action- I cried on the memorial tattoo he got for him (really for his daughter), he lost his house.... What purpose did all of those horrible things do, other than to upset me? Wasn't their purpose to upset, depress, scare me? Because that's what it did... And that's excluding what happened in the house, or my trauma afterwards...

Why is this freaking story SO COMPLICATED?

I talked to an administrative law judge in the dog park the other night and she said she might approach the case in a different way (other than emotional distress) but that she would have to think about it. That's all I ever wanted anyone to do. Talk to me about it, and think about it, in an academic, and considerate, sensitive way.

I just wish we could have at least filed papers. Or like divorce... gone to mediation and been forced to talk. I would give anything to talk to him.  Anything. I know people that know people who know them. (Which freaks me out to no end). But, no one close enough who could just sit down and say... "This girl is having a hard time. You didn't do the right thing here. You need to make this right. Go do the right thing. Give her what she needs to move on. "

I wish someone would.

Personal Advice

Three different friends, independently, have now come to me in the last week or two and have said, in one way or another, I need to move on. After talking about this very phenomenon with the third person, a fourth popped up.

Give me a freakin' break people. Ugh... What is this? Groundhog Day?

One said she would like to physically shake me and told me I needed to snap out of it. Because I was "too pretty, and too smart" to have a panic attack in a grocery store.

Two said, basically, this is sucking up too much time, there isn't anything more you can do, move it along and live your life.

Another said you need to forgive him.

One of these statements left me fantasizing (intensely) about driving into telephone polls and freeway overpasses. I had to go home, go in my room, shut the door and sleep for hours to make it go away. If that's where I have to be, if that's what I have to do, I would rather be dead. I had to shut myself down to make those thoughts stop.

Another conversation, I sat across the table from them and internally sighed. I hadn't even ever really talked to this person about anything regarding this. What spurred on this conversation was their comment on how great I seemed to be doing. So I had to respond with explaining, that actually, it was a little more complicated that that, and gave an update. Then she launched into what equated to verbal vomit. I began mentally taking notes... Do not ever talk to this person again about this subject... they are not someone you should confide in. They can't handle it. It's just too much for them. It's upsetting for them.

Another... so patient, so angry, for me. But probably just done. It's not like I don't feel it too. I've been done with this for months. For a year. I was done with it the day I found out. I wanted to delete it from my brain then. But I can't.

With everyone, I wonder... What more is living my life supposed to look like? What more do you want me to do for it to count as "life" to you? What qualifies?

As of now, I work every day. I shoot, I edit. I correspond with clients and editors every day. I do things for other people. I'm being published in two more magazines this year.

I go to the dog park almost every day. I have a crew of dog park friends I associate with. I even know some of their names, instead of just their dog names. (Shocker, I know. If you've ever been to a dog park, you'd understand how phenomenal that is.) I'm also starting to work on training the dog finally. I got a Gentle Leader to help with the out of control pulling and have been parking far away from the park and walking in with him to work on it. I've also started bringing high-value treats in the car (fat-free hot dogs) to get to him lay down on his seat and stop barking like a lunatic. Previously I had done nothing to work on these behavioral issues.

I am redecorating my house. I want to make my house a home. I am trying to make it look different from when Matt was in my life. I am trying to stop waiting for him to come home and stop making my house a frozen pane of the moment he left. I'm trying to make it different. I changed my shower curtain, replacing the one I've had for the last 4.5 years with a much-coveted one from Urban Outfitters. (Yes, the pricey ruffled one. And yes, I bought a knock off first and it was awful.) I spent weeks shopping for fabric online (and attempted to in-store as well only to find all the fabric stores in Sac had gone out of business) and have started sewing slipcovers for my decorative pillows for my couches in new colors. I got big wood cut outs of words I like: "breathe" for the bathroom, "think" for the bookshelf and "bake" for the kitchen off etsy to display. I've designed and created artistic signs with inspirational sayings to display in the house, and ordered a few special art prints as well. I even got a new quilt on clearance for my bed, in a new color. (Coral).

I'm taking German. I signed up for two classes, French and German, but after finding the French class to be full of 17 and 18 year olds and the couresework full of busywork like making a 3 ring binder as part of your grade, I dropped it. (Especially since I already took three years of French and this was review for fun.) I'm in my third week of German. I had to have a meeting with the professor about my anxiety about men and she is accomodating me. But that means I can stay in the class. It is a huge challenge, but I want to stay and I am trying really hard to stay despite my anxiety.

Part of the reason why I signed up for classes is because I want to get my master's degree and I want to make some contacts in the college world again so I can get reference letters when I apply.  Although the grades may not raise my g.p.a. (I've heard repeatedly from a friend your g.p.a. freezes once you graduate, but I'm not quite sure how that works when you've attended multiple schools...) it may demonstrate I'm capable of schoolwork in a different capacity than I was 7 years ago when I was an undergrad.

I am seriously planning on moving to Colorado, probably Denver. This will of course depend on whether I get into school there. I get daily real estate updates from a particular realtor out there.  I also check the apartments for rent on Craig's List regularly and am trying to get to know the neighborhoods. For the last couple of months I have researched different wedding blogs in the "middle" states and have found one specific to Colorado to advertise on. Hopefully I can start building my business out there now. Even if I don't move there, having more out of state business rather than only specific to Sacramento will make an out of state transition easier. I've also concentrated advertisements in other states with programs I want to apply to.

I go to therapy two days a week, rain or shine, and I work on my stuff. I love my therapist and she helps so much.

I've been trying to go for awhile, and I have made it once or twice.... I did it again today. Yes, I did it. I went to the gym. That place I spend a fortune to have a membership to and have gone to... four whole times in the last year. I genuinely worked out today. I did the treadmill, the elliptical, free weights and machine weights. I also parked in the far corner of the parking lot for extra exercise.

All of that said.... What more does "living my life" look like people? Do I need to go down to the local bar and get trashed? Do I need to go to church? (Don't answer that one. No! Shhh!) Do I need a boyfriend? What exactly do you want me to do? What would make you more comfortable in dealing with me while I grieve?

Which is the bottom line, and what I have talked twice to my therapist about now. My reaction, mostly, to these comments has been a deeeeeep sigh and "I guess this isn't someone I can confide in anymore" feeling. My therapist corrects me on that.

What SHE says is I am hearing these people wrong. What I should be hearing is this: "I care about you, I want to help you, but I don't know what to do about it." That's the bottom line from her. The continuation of that statement, the explanation for why these comments or discussions are coming up are: "We are uncomfortable with your grief and don't know what to do with it. So maybe we can just fix it and make it go away and then we can all feel better.  PHEW!"

Except it doesn't work like that. Everybody works on their own timeline, everyone grieves in their own way. You can't grieve too fast or too slow. You skip through the steps and that's how you end up having things blow up in your face a few years down the road. That's how I ended up bawling my eyes out during my first woman's exam, (much to my own surprise) and trying to deal with an assault from when I was 10 years old.  The first relationship I was ever in... it revolved completely around that assault. Something that happened over a decade before and left me incredibly insecure and with a whole lot of issues I didn't even realize I had.  Because I never dealt with it when it happened. I tried to... a little bit. But it was too much. So I swept it under the rug and pretended it never happened. I stuffed my face, gained a bunch of weight and made sure I kept everyone away from me. Perfect solution, right?  So there I was, 20, 21 and trying to date for the first time and completely freaking out over problems that should have been taken care of 10 years before.

I would prefer to not drag this out over the next decade. I don't want to be like Matt. I don't want to be the creepy guy, pretending I wasn't in a serious relationship with someone for a year and a half that was hugely traumatic. I want to deal with it, take care of it and be okay. There is only one way to do that.

And it isn't pretty.

I'm sorry if you don't like it. I'm sorry if you're sick of hearing about it. I appreciate you being here, but if you have to go... Okay. Go. Yeah, it's depressing around here. But that's how this stuff works! This is what you do! If I don't write it out here, where would you like me to put it? I write it, I say it,  so it doesn't stay in me.  If it stays in me, it boils up and consumes me and there's not any room for anything else. If I can get it out... file it away here... throw it in a bag with some dog crap and set it on fire... maybe I won't have to look at it again. Maybe it will go away. It took me a whole year to get angry and it was HARD. Really hard.

The Five Stages of Grief, referred to me over and over again by friends, psychiatrist, psychologists... the Kubler-Ross model may provide insight as to where I have been hanging out the last year. Can you guess?

(It was originally written for people dying but is currently considered applicable to anyone going through a catastrophic or traumatic event. The references here are to death.) 

1. Denial — "I feel fine."; "This can't be happening, not to me."
   Denial is usually only a temporary defense for the individual. This feeling is generally replaced with heightened awareness of possessions and individuals that will be left behind after death.
2. Anger — "Why me? It's not fair!"; "How can this happen to me?"; '"Who is to blame?"
   Once in the second stage, the individual recognizes that denial cannot continue. Because of anger, the person is very difficult to care for due to misplaced feelings of rage and envy.
3. Bargaining — "I'll do anything for a few more years."; "I will give my life savings if..."
   The third stage involves the hope that the individual can somehow postpone or delay death. Usually, the negotiation for an extended life is made with a higher power in exchange for a reformed lifestyle. Psychologically, the individual is saying, "I understand I will die, but if I could just do something to buy more time..."
4. Depression — "I'm so sad, why bother with anything?"; "I'm going to die soon so whats the point... What's the point?"; "I miss my loved one, why go on?"
   During the fourth stage, the dying person begins to understand the certainty of death. Because of this, the individual may become silent, refuse visitors and spend much of the time crying and grieving. This process allows the dying person to disconnect from things of love and affection. It is not recommended to attempt to cheer up an individual who is in this stage. It is an important time for grieving that must be processed.
5. Acceptance — "It's going to be okay."; "I can't fight it, I may as well prepare for it."
   In this last stage, the individual begins to come to terms with her/his mortality or that of a loved one.

The last year I have spent in bed, with the covers over my head, in a deep depression, waiting basically for the world to end. (Probably hoping the world would end.) And then of course, the rest of the time, and more recently, in denial, bewilderment... How the f**** did this happen to me?

Just now, after a WHOLE YEAR of that hot mess, moving into anger, FINALLY, FINALLY getting pissed about this, I can't skip to Acceptance and be hunky dory about the whole damn thing.

I just caught this sentence from the "Depression" section. I LOVE it: "It is not recommended to attempt to cheer up an individual who is in this stage. It is an important time for grieving that must be processed."

I agree completely.  If you feel like crap, you want to keep feeling like crap. You just do. Someone trying to force a happy face on your poop-parade is just... upsetting. And invalidating. So, what exactly are you saying? This isn't a big deal? I should just "get over it?" If your husband died/child drowned/spouse left you, you would be up and ready to move on by now? So I should too?  That's your "stuff." That's not my "stuff."


A final thought:

Everywhere on this blog where I have ever said "Matt" or "therapy" or "investigation" or anything related to those topics... Replace ALL of it with... oh... woodworking. It's a hobby! Think of it as a HOBBY. Now, does that seem like too much time to be thinking or working on a hobby? Come 'on... We all have our hobbies, right? Doesn't seem that bad, now, right? Next time you see me... ask me how my woodworking is going. HA.

 As a disclaimer, because I know there will be a minimum of one person (just one?) who will read this and be incredibly angry, leave me a nasty comment and stop reading my blog... I appreciate everyone who can stand being my friend right now. I am sure I am incredibly exhausting, and depressing and needy. Who the freak would want to be friends with me right now? You all deserve a medal...But this is the hardest thing I have ever gone through, and all I know is what I know. And what I need is what I need. This is what I need and know. That's all I can say. It would be so much worse if you left me but I can't do anything different than what I'm doing. Because it's the right thing for me. And I know that. I know it.

My heart.

Last fall my therapist asked me to draw a picture of my heart.

I couldn't do it.  I felt like before I met him... my heart was kind of scraped, and taped back together from all it had been through... like someone had already thrown it in the dryer with a bunch of rocks, so it was pretty messed up, but I had done my best to patch it back up for him and I gave him... everything I got. I'm giving you everything I got baby.  Now... I've oft described the state of my heart like that but ripped open and covered in dog crap.

I found this on Pinterest recently and, really this just SO sums up how I feel all the time. When I walk around in public, this is how I feel. I feel like I am walking around like this, naked, exposed and everybody can see everything. ...(Of course I only wish I looked this good naked.)

It's called "broken hearted."

 

If you walked around, feeling like this (you know, plus 70 pounds) you wouldn't want people to hug you either. (No need to get blood all over their clothes, right?)

So that's how I feel.

And people are telling me to move on and forgive him while I am walking around in public in my underwear and bleeding all over the cereal aisle.

Hmmph.

You first.

It guess it's over. (They finished the investigation.)

The sergeant hasn't even sent me back the corrected statement yet. How can they be finished with it? Don't I have to sign it first?

The fact it says in this letter that it will be kept on file for five years says to me he will be keeping his job. I didn't know this was coming, in fact, this was postmarked August 31st, and I just got it out of the post box today, Sept 5th. When I picked it up and felt how thin it was... I felt worried. How can they be done when I haven't signed anything? When they made all those mistakes in the report? I haven't even heard back from the sergeant yet.  And it's over. This is it. This is all I get. I can't even get my friends to help me or return my calls, let alone the highway patrol or law offices. It just makes me want to give up... on everything. What's the use? There is no mention of the cuffing incident, or the forgeries, which I realize where off-duty but they included them in the report, so why include them at all? I feel so violated and just, abandoned, by everybody. My friends can't even deal with me.  I don't even want to deal with me anymore. Because I can't even help myself. It's over and there is no relief.

Another not so good night.

I don't want to go to bed.

I don't want to watch tv.

I don't want to mess around online.

I don't want to read or respond to yet another email I received this week from an attorney who will not help or even meet with me.

I don't know what to do.

I am totally overwhelmed and frustrated.

I don't know how to make sure Matt gets what he deserves.

I feel like I have to carry the burden of HIS mistakes, HIS poor choices and HIS sociopathy every day.

I feel like I always will, unless I can find a way to make sure he is punnished for what he did.

Reading about this... I don't think he should keep his job. This officer committed one embarrassing, semi-atrocious act. Matt committed more than I can count.

I need help. I don't know what to do. No one will help me. Everyone is too busy, doesn't do that, wrapped up in their own stuff, or too overwhelmed by me to even talk to me.

A friend of mine, a GOOD friend, a best friend, who has never really had a full discussion about what happened this last year with me because she has had too much of her own stuff going on, felt the need to tell me she wanted to just shake me and tell me to get over it. That I was "too smart, too pretty" to waste my life on having panic attacks in the grocery store. I didn't even know what to say.

In therapy, my therapist asked what I thought about that and I just shook my head and said that all that meant to me was that this was another person who did not know how to handle a big emotional trauma and was not someone I could speak to about it.  The therapist agreed... that is not how these things work. I am not behind the curve, these are not things you just "get over" and when you have an anxiety disorder, when you have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and suffer flashbacks, you can't just "snap out of it" and wake up one day and have it all go away and be honky dory. I'm not that person anymore. Yeah, this is pretty much all my life is about right now.  Because that's all I have room for right now. I have to take care of me. All of this is just part of taking care of me. I can't do any part of this any faster than how I am.  I am right where I am supposed to be. As MUCH as I hate that. (And I truly, hate it.) But this is where I am supposed to be.

But I also need help to move forward, and I don't know how to get it. I feel trapped. I always feel trapped, but today especially, I feel like a little animal running 'round in a tiny cage. Subject to the miserable world around me.

PLEASE SHARE THIS POST!

I know I have like, three whole readers out there, lol. If you are one of them, will you do me a favor and share this post? You are welcome to copy the pictures, the video and the information into your own blog if you like, or just put things into your own words and include a link. Or just include a link! Whatever you are willing to do. If you need any html codes, I will send them right over. Of course when I start trying to paste html into here, it goes active, so best to do that over email, right? You can reach me at: auntyem4@yahoo.com

As you all know, my anniversary was August 3rd and I had struggled to find a way to commemorate the date. A few days before, I received an email from a woman who wanted to do a portrait session with her three little preschool-age boys. She was also 9 months pregnant with a baby girl. We exchanged a few emails before she told me her husband would not be able to be in the pictures because he had died suddenly a few months before, about midway through her pregnancy.

He simply kissed her good night one night, went to sleep, and never woke up. They aren't really sure what happened. She is now raising these four children on her own. These four children, whom she and her husband fought for TEN YEARS to have, and finally were blessed with, through IVF. They met as undergraduates at BYU before he was to leave for his mission for the LDS church. "Oh, he had his eye on me... he was workin' me!" She kind of squealed when she was telling me about it. Her eyes could still twinkle, telling me about their love story. They had 15 or so years together, but now she has four kids under the age of five, including twins that she has to raise on her own. An education fund has been set up for the children. If you can donate in any amount, a $1, whatever, I think all of the kids, and Stephanie, who was a stay at home mom and is probably struggling with how she is going to provide for her family, could really use the help and blessings you can give them.

You can see their pictures, what their video and utilize the PayPal button and get their financial planner's address over HERE, on my blog, where the full post is, and FEEL FREE to repost any of the pictures, as long as you include their story and the way to donate along with it:  http://eheizerphotography.blogspot.com/2011/08/here-comes-sun-special-family.html

Here is another copy of the PayPal and financial planner button for your ease. PLEASE SHARE this information on your blog, your Facebook, your church board, or anywhere else you can think of! I have felt all month that I was supposed to spread the word as wide as I could and I have been emailing some bloggers directly, asking them to share, but some of you I know so well, or you have family blogs, so I won't ask you directly, but if you can, please share about this family. I know it is the right thing to do. They helped me when I needed it. It's my turn to help them. 

Instant! Secure, and you can go via credit card too!

 OR

Matthew Sheffield, Financial Advisor
Account number WH10988
UBS Financial Services Inc.
601 W Riverside Ave, Ste 1200
Spokane, WA 99201

Just so frustrated!

I just got off another phone call with another secretary from a law office where I spent the whole call at least crying, and trying very very hard not to cry to the point of not being understood.

When is this going to happen for me?

I want my day in court. The only way I am going to get it is if someone, an attorney, will at least listen to me, talk to me, and God willing, take my case. There is no better way to discourage him from doing this again than to make it public, financially punish him, and humiliate him in the same way he has me. He has changed my life and the person that I am, and I do not like that person.  And he should pay. He should pay for the medical bills, the therapy, the medication, and he should pay, period. It is not okay that he did this, and since he hasn't gotten the message yet, we need to make sure he gets it. I want to take him to court. At a minimum, I want to get to depo. And I want him to pay. He makes a six figure salary, he can afford it. And if the CHP doesn't do their due dilligence in investigating and handling the matter, then they should pay too. Hell, they should ALL pay.

I am freaking SUE-HAPPY today and I don't freaking care!

I need an attorney, I have called so many, emailed so many and I don't know what to do next. Someone online suggested hiring an attorney to write a summary of my case to send to attorneys; that it would be easier and better received in that matter. (Al- for dog slippers? Pbbt.) I don't know what good that will do either though.

Why does Gloria Allred have to be so freaking busy all the freaking time?

Things have been happening...

A new client (the groom) asked me today what would happened when/if his friends would hit on me at his wedding.

????

I gave a polite, silly, professional answer and quickly changed the subject.


I then spent an inordinate amount of time obsessing about that worrisome comment the rest of the day.

What exactly does that mean?

1.). Thanks, groom, for thinking I'm not too fat to be hit on. Really, with the weight I gained over LAST Thanksgiving after losing 20 pounds or whatever after not being about to eat for the first 4 months after everything happened last year, I have felt like a parade blimp. Really, that was nice of you to think anyone would pay any attention to me at all.

2.) ARE YOUR FRIENDS BLIND?

3.) ... Or just desperate?

4.) This scares me that he actually found this to be a big enough concern he brought it up. He either a.) finds me extremely attractive (is he blind too? His bride was pretty, was that just luck on his part???) or b.) his friends have some bad habits with flirting, or try to hook up with anything with girl parts. Eek.

Again, Me---> worried.

****

Next, I didn't have to meet with the investigator. 1.) Bullet dodged? 2.) Kind of wished we had. Now we are exchanging emails instead.... Eeeh.

I received the four page (five if you count his note on top) report of my statement from the sergeant. I was "excited" (if you can call it that) to get it, and it was a bit overwhelming/draining to read. Pretty thorough. But FULL of mistakes. Their timeline was all wrong, they were missing some dates... they didn't even mention that he claimed to be single but went into lots of details about Matt's online profile on the dating website where we met. Maybe that's not relevant? So when I emailed him about that specific detail I started off with... "Maybe it's not relevant, but I noticed you didn't mention..."

I also felt they severely downplayed the cuffing incident. Everything else was described to a 'T' so I don't understand why this was downplayed. They described how the cuffing took place in this way: "Mr. Matt had occasion to apply one handcuff to Ms. Emily's left wrist." What were we, casually trying on restraints while watching tv? He vertically wrestled me and restrained me to put it on. (As opposed to wrestling me on the ground, aka, horizontally.)  I wasn't comfortable with how it was described or how they discussed it in the interview either. I again, felt like they downplayed it. It was an awkward situation. Here was this great guy I was dating, had feelings for, everything seemed fine, and then SUDDENLY he tackles and cuffs me, and refuses to remove it unless I go with him out in public. What do you do? Everything was fine up until 5 minutes before... What just even happened? You argue some, he refuses... and then what do you do? For lack of any other ideas, I submitted. I did what he told me to do. About 20 minutes later we were back at the house and he took it off. I was pissed. He never did it again. It was bizarre. The entire thing was bizarre. I tried to forget about it. And I sure as hell didn't tell many (if any? did I ever tell anyone about that?) people about it. I was too embarrassed and shocked over his (and probably my own compliant) behavior. (ick)

They also somehow slipped in something which I have since learned was actually from Matt's statement into my statement. That's right. He's been interviewed. For sure. They didn't say he had been interviewed, but they might as well have. Somebody talked to him about the day I went into the house and everything happened. And they have record of it. How else they would have that? He has been interviewed. He knows.

In the summary, there is a paragraph about my going to the house. It's about half a page, which is apparently pretty brief because there is a notation about another "exhibit" which more thoroughly describes the entire incident. (::shudders::) In the paragraph, it says that Matt's wife calls him, "demands" he comes home, and he "FINISHED HIS SHIFT" and then "hastily" came home.

This first puzzled me. I was in the house about 45 minutes. It took about 10 minutes for me to talk to his wife, communicate what Matt had done, present pictures (which I had left in my car, parked around the corner and had to walk back and get) and then for us to go in the house and for her to call him and start screaming into the phone at Matt. Matt was home about the last 15 minutes I was there. This gives him approximately 20 minutes to get from work to home. Which, on a good day, without traffic (and this was during rush hour, mind you) should take 35-45 minutes, minimum. And he "finished his shift"?  Talking about this with my mom she pointed out I never told them this and that it shouldn't be part of my statement because I had no knowledge of it. At the time I believed him to be unemployed. When I told his wife I was under the impression he had been fired 8 months back, she very wryly said with a sarcastic smile that they were still receiving paychecks. In the weeks following I questioned whether she stayed with him solely to maintain their lifestyle because of how she responded. (He makes quite a bit, over six figures.) I have to remind myself I am not a mind reader, and just like she shouldn't be judging or blaming me, I shouldn't be doing the same to her. Although that is extremely difficult, and even in typing that out, I want to point my finger and screech "SHE STARTED IT!" since she is the one, who, after all, called me the "b" word when I asked if Matt would answer questions for me to explain his behavior. (Now I am making the wry face.)

Anyway, I emailed the investigating sergant, and he emailed me back this:

Officer Matt was working the early shift in August of 2010 and upon receiving the phone call from his wife responded to the Area office and requested to leave early.  He was already nearing the end of his shift and upon turning in his paperwork, etc. left on time.  By his own admission he did drive home at a very high rate of speed.  

 This statement... it put me back in the moment. It almost put me in Matt's shoes, and yet, still in my own. I know that makes absolutely no sense but I don't know how to explain it. It was like I was watching him live out that day, and thereby back in the moment again. I broke out in a sweat and my entire body started to tremble. My shoulders, neck and back tensed and clenched up as tight as they could without me even realizing. I lifted my legs and hips of the bed with the increase in tension and started to shake, hard, uncontrollably, thinking about this, reading those words.

It made me wonder if maybe I shouldn't know more about what happened. Maybe I can't handle it. Thinking about him speeding home to get there before his wife and girlfriend could exchange more information and details with each other... Driving in that car, thinking about his girlfriend standing in his living room, crouched against his hallway, talking to his wife while she screamed and cursed obscenities at him through the phone line... Typing it... it's making me sick again. My whole body... just sick. Sick, sick, sick.

He's sick.

He's married?

Watching this wedding video on a videographer's blog. Starts off with a little speech from the FOB (father of the bride) about the bride and how she met the groom and sprung this whole marriage thing on him (the dad), and then it launches into a music sequence of the bride getting her make up on, the groom getting ready, bride ascending the aisle, goofing off with the groom, giggling during their ceremony, hanging out with the bridal party...

And I realize, with this sinking, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach... he already did all that.

Matt and HER... they had their wedding day. They had A WEDDING. He has memories of getting up and getting ready and putting on a suit or a tux and hanging out with "his boys" and marching in and standing in front of everyone, and she walked down the aisle... The took portraits and cut a cake and...

I don't know what to say.

We're back to the surreal, out of body, mind-boggling part of this again. How did this happen. He had been married a little less than two years or so, maybe 18 months when he and I started dating. Those memories were fresh in his mind. Those memories... they were still new when we sat in that sandwich shop and he took the straw wrapper off his drink, tied it around my ring finger and said he would try to contain himself until the next week to propose with a real ring.

He had JUST done that.

For real.

She wore a dress.. he wore a suit... they got married. They danced a first dance... maybe he danced with his mother... And one day he got up and thought... I don't like this, let's start over? And hit the mental "delete" key and deleted ALL of those memories right out of his head. The last four years of his life, five years? He just deleted her, everything about her, his wife and their relationship out of his life and life experiences. POOF. Never happened.

One of the pieces of material I turned over to the investigators was an instant messenger conversation where I asked him how long he has been single. No hesitation. "four and a half years... as long as I have been a cop." No wife mentioned there. He even asked, "define single... do shitty dates count?"  How do you delete an experience from your life as huge as a WEDDING? Especially when you're the freaking GROOM?!

My friend Paige said she couldn't believe that they- Matt and his wife were pretending that he hadn't been in this big serious relationship for HALF of their marriage, that they were going on, having another child like everything was wonderful.

Matt went on pretending with me like he hadn't been married the last two years. He's pretending now that he wasn't in a serious relationship with someone other than his wife for nearly two years, and then, he did the same with me.  The man likes to play pretend, apparently. And so does his wife, I guess, because she ignores it. I've been told repeatedly this is all going to blow up in her face but it's hard to feel sorry for her when I still look at her and see nothing but the life I lost, including, basically, my husband. He was the man I thought would be my husband. I never doubted it from the second I felt that first prompting. And I have had the hardest time shaking that conviction. I have never been more sure of anything in my life. ... And I guess, never more wrong either. How do you feel sorry for someone who has the life you dreamed of, wanted, and thought you would have?

Today, I don't think I have ever felt more strongly that I don't want to be married. Ever.  I don't even feel sad about it right now, as I usually do. I feel... disgusted.

In therapy today I was asked what I wanted to happen with Matt and his job. Every day I have a different answer. Some days I am wracked with guilt and I just want him to [continue to] live (my inner deluded belief is that they are ecstatically happy) in la la land and have nothing come of it, and for all to be well. Some days a letter will suffice. Others, a suspension, paid or unpaid. I dream of his wife's smugness over a paid suspension because then he could be home to help with the baby. A paid vacation! Today I had a new answer for my therapist. I wanted him fired. She asked why. It took me twenty minutes to go through all the ways in which he had personally victimized me through his job and how he could do it to others. A pathological liar on a witness stand? Using your position of authority to gain trust and power in relationships? Using highly personal information, to manipulate someone for your own benefit? How do you put someone like that in a job as high powered as a police officer? He should be fired. He should never be permitted to work in law enforcement again.

That's how I felt today.

I may or may not meet with the investigator tomorrow. I don't feel so sick, just sickly exhausted/tired. I'm actually sleeping at night and my body doesn't know what to make of it. Nothing is nailed down yet so I don't know what's happening.

Are you kidding me?

The investigator just emailed me out of the blue and said that he needed to meet with me- this week preferably to have me sign some memoranda from our interview. He said he could mail it, but he would prefer we meet. My head is spinning, I feel dizzy and sick, so tired. I have questions for him; I'd rather meet him in person too, but I keep having visions of vomiting in a trash can outside a Starbucks when I see him while my friend who I have conned into coming with me (why, hello Amanda) looks on horrified. I kind of had a big dinner tonight, turkey sandwich and urban fries... I want to go throw them up. I just feel so sick. My anxiety is so high.. it's like I drank a ton of caffeine, but I am not shaky, just.. my head is spinning. I feel SO sick.

Marriage

Do men ever REALLY want to get married?

Not because "it's time," or because their girlfriend gave them an ultimatum, or it's just something you do in life. Or because your religion says you have to, or you should, or "it'll be good for you, you'll like it, " or so you can have sex without "sinning",  because they got their girlfriend pregnant and her father came after them with a shotgun, but because honestly, they really, truly WANT to be married, for no other reason, than they WANT TO BE MARRIED?

Really. Does that happen? Ever?

Bewildered today

I am just... bewildered today.

How did this ever happen?

He did what? With who? What? WHAT?

What are you TALKING about?

No, no, no... That couldn't have happened. No...

I don't believe it today. I miss him. I need a hug! I want to just pick up the phone and give him a call. I feel so casual.. Like nothing happened. Oh, what? That happened? He did all that? Huh? I don't know what you're talking about. Because the guy I was with, he was AWESOME. He loved he so much... I can't even tell you how wonderful he was. How he loved me, treated me, looked at me. We are spending the rest of our lives together.  All this other crap is hoo-ha.

Can we say denial?

Did I mention that they are having a baby together? Oh yeah. They stayed togeher. She had made that choice within less than 12 hours after I went to the house and told her her husband had been cheating on her for half their marriage. And not just that. Not just that he had been with me for the last 18 months, but that he had been living a double life too. With a fictional life story, a fictional relationship with his parents, fake friends names, a pretend friend who was killed in the line of duty, a pretend memorial tattoo for said friend, a pretend job as a special agent for the federal government he had just given up and a bedridden father, debilitated by a stroke. 12 hours... "I got married for forever, not just a little while. .. I can only hope he will get the help he needs..." My therapist cocked her head to the side and said something like, "What about her? Doesn't she need help? Her world just crashed down. And what about them as a couple? They should each be in individual counseling and in couples counseling too. Not just him.. this isn't just about him and this doesn't just affect him, and him going to therapy alone won't fix this situation.  Nothing will. "  Three months after I went to their house, and told his wife everything he had done to US... she was pregnant. It practically made me retch. Three months after I found out... I still wasn't eating or sleeping. Letting that man touch me? Sleeping with him at all, let alone without protection is... WHAT???

 A very smart friend of mine said something like, she couldn't believe they were just going on, pretending like he hadn't been in a serious relationship with someone else. That was key for me. He's married... and he was in a serious relationship with someone else. Me. ME. She also said the whole thing was creepy and that yeah, having a baby the first time around worked out so well, what with him assuming a second identity and trying to basically become a polygamist by trying to marry me- maybe he never would have, maybe he would have stalled forever, but who knows. Yeah, having a baby the first time worked out great what with him running off and starting an affair 10 days after the baby was born. Go ahead, have another one. Sounds like  a GREAT PLAN! Three months. They waited three months. Or I should say she. You know this wasn't his idea. Or if it was, it was used as a manipulative distration. HERE. Get pregnant, focus on something else and get off my back. Then you'll be happy, and leave me alone. Just like last time...

Seriously, this is my life now? How did I get dragged into these people's jacked up marital problems?