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.