Charlie Goes to the Dog Park: The Sequel

A year ago April I made a video (THIS VIDEO) of my dog Charlie Brown Bagel the beagle going to and playing at the dog park. He's somewhat of a menance, so it was entertaining. As we hit the one year mark of our time together, I decided it was time for an updated video. Here it is and here are all our friends who we see at the park every day!

And as a big development, I ate out in a restaurant tonight with two ladies from the park. It was the first time I have gone out, really gone out since before Matt. I sat in the restaurant, and ate, and I did it. And it was fine and I was okay and had a good time. The restaurant is cafeteria style, so you order and pay at the counter and then find your own seat and it was not too crowded. I did great. I almost want to cry writing about it now.

I guess things are changing.

The Collage Project

As therapy homework, my therapist had me make a collage of my life with Matt. The life as I knew it to be and what was really going on. It was a way to really "fuse" the two lives, the two people together. The hardest thing I have struggled with these last 18 months is realizing on an emotional level that Matt T., the man I loved and planned to spend my life with was the same person as that sociopath who lived a double life and was married to someone else the entire time he was in a relationship with me and talking about our wedding and having kids and saying he hoped I would be the only person he would ever be intimate with for the rest of his life.  (As he walked out my door and presumably picked up his baby from daycare and crawled into bed with his wife of 2 years.) Realizing these two people are one in the same- I guess intellectually I know they are because I can say it. Matt T. is the same person as Matt L. But... when I think of my Matty, he is dead to me. He's not sitting in his cute little track house 10 minutes away from me right now with his wife and kids. Because that's...pure lunacy. Who the freak could do that? You are pooping me right now if you think I'm going to believe you that THAT GUY that I was with for a YEAR AND A HALF is in a house TEN MINUTES AWAY with his wife and not one, but TWO kids, RIGHT THIS SECOND. That's insane.

No, he died. His soul died.

(Hello, denial. Nice to see you again.)

So, I made this collage. I blacked out parts that are too personal or things that were emailed to me by other people (ie, people who helped expose him at the time, and therefore the images aren't "owned" by me and shouldn't be circulated online), but the rest are images taken during our relationship or images he sent me while we were together. There are also notes he sent me, love letters and other stuff. The first layer of the poster is all love letters I sent him. I sewed them to the board with a blanket stitch, and then the board was too thick so I stapled them in the middle. They were mostly all written at the very end of our relationship when he was "so depressed" and claimed to be suidcidal and was having dreams about death and told me he had lost his job with the CHP. They are filled with words of encouragement and love, and sometimes anger for him not stepping up to the plate and getting it together. He never received them. Sometimes I think about ding dong ditching them on his porch, or covering them in dog poop and setting them on fire (a childhood trick my dad told me about once!). Mostly I wish he just had them so he knew what he put me through. I had to crawl behind my armoire to get them as after I found out the truth I couldn't look at them, and yet couldn't bear to through them away so I threw them back there, which is where they have sat, untouched all this time. I cried and cried as I sat on the floor, on my hands and knees and pulled them out one by one from behind the armoire. My therapist asked me if I opened them or read them, but I couldn't. It would have been too painful. I still can't imagine doing so.

After that I layered the pictures, text messages and notes we wrote each other. I even have our first communications to each other on the board. I put them right next to the date of his daughter's birth. She was born February 10th, 2009. He emailed me for the first time February 21st, 2009. He was cruising dating websites while his newborn baby was at home and his wife was still recovering from birth. As I re-read those messages, I realized that he had not taken off any time from work when she was born either. He says in the messages he is writing me from work. My brother and brother in law both took at least 2 weeks if not 6 weeks of paternity leave when their children were born, especially their FIRST children. This was his first child and he had a very well paying job with great vacation and sick leave pay. He took no time off. 10 days after his first child's birth he was back at work, on a dating website, which he was paying a subscription for, and writing me letters. His head was in a totally different place than that of a husband and father.  No wonder I can't unite the two identities- he wasn't living his true identity even in his "real life."

The pictures of him getting the tattoo and of him in the orange shirt were taken in  Hawaii that April. He told me he was on a guy's trip with his best friend. Really he was there with his wife, newborn baby and his inlaws. When I went through the pictures again for this project I realized I could see his father in law's wedding ring and hand in one of the shots he had sent me of a fancy drink he had ordered while there. Let's picture this:

You're in Hawaii on vacation with your family.
Your wife sits next to you with your 2.5 month old baby girl.
Your mother in law and father in law sit across the table from you.
You order a cool looking drink.
You take a picture of it... and.... text it to some girl you're trying to hook up with back home... while you're sitting next to your wife... and across from your in laws... at the same table.

How is that for ballsy?

Can we say WTF?

The picture I have of him getting that tattoo? He said it was in memorium of his friend who died on the job, that he was plowed down by a drunk driver after pulling over someone on a rainy night on the side of the road. He went so far as to play me the song they played at the guy's funeral.

The tattoo is of his daugher's name.

I would assume his wife or in-law's took the picture.

Which he texted me.

While he was on vacation.

With his wife.

Right.

Just trying to keep this straight.

Anyway, the engagement rings you see were parts of ads I had torn out of magazines and had put on my fridge to show him the next time he came. He told me I had about a one month's salary budget, so $10,000 or so. Those ads have sat on my fridge for the last 18 months. Untouched. He never saw them because he never came back to my house again. Time just froze here. I finally cut them up for this project.

The top right are the messages I received on August 3rd, 2010 which exposed him and confirmed the details I had pieced together. Immediately below this is a love letter I wrote him just days before that says on the outside, "No more kissing frogs because I've found my prince!"

The letter in the middle is the results of the citizen's complaint I filed with the CHP against him.

The bottom right is the topper to this blog at present. Next to it is a message he sent me: "You should not give up on [sic] dreams just for some guy."  There are a whole series of messages from him along the same tone and message on the board because I told him I wanted to wait until we were married to be intimate and he was very supportive of that. But truly, it doesn't matter what we were talking about. The message he wrote me is universal to life and that's why I included it.

As I went through the poster with my therapist (it took two hours/two sessions), when I got to this part,  I told her how I had put this picture and this note next to each other on purpose. I heard myself saying, "He's right. I shouldn't give up on what I want out of my life just because of what he did to me."

The therapist paused and then said very quietly, "I've never heard you say anything like that before."
"Say it again.'

I start to cry. ..

I stumbled through it again through my tears.  "I shouldn't give up on my hopes and dreams just because of what he did to me."

-"Again."

"I should give up on what I want because of what he did." I sobbed it out this time.

It was so hard but it was so true and so profound.

I think that's what they call "The Breakthrough."

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

I got a call from my therapist yesterday canceling my appointment for today because she's sick and changing out last appoinment ever to a phone appointment. I was not exactly thrilled. So we have one appointment left. Great. Just great.

Today is the LAST DAY

... that I will be 28 years old.

I'm only 28, I'm only 28, I'm only 28, I'm only 28, I'm only 28...

And I'm milking it to the fullest.

I'm trying really hard to hit 1,000 fans on my Facebook Fan Page by tomorrow, but I'm still 78 fans short! Would you PLEASE be my friend? :)

And now I'll be walking alone.

I walked into my second therapy session of the week this afternoon (I go twice a week, Mondays at 3pm and Tuesdays at 1pm) and sat down to bad news.

My therapist who I have been with for almost a year and a half, the woman who has been with me since the beginning of my nightmare is leaving.

Her husband is in graduate school and has been living in another town about 45 minutes- an hour away since last summer or so. She has been commuting from that town to here, stays with her family or in-laws Monday-Wednesday and sees patients and then goes home to be with her husband. A couple of months ago she cut her schedule back to just Mondays and Tuesdays and condensed all of her appointments into those two days.

Today she told me she has accepted a position close to home and we will have to say goodbye in just two weeks.  We only have four sessions left before she goes. 

I was VERY upset.

I can't say I didn't see it coming, I did. How can you sustain a relationship with all that time apart every week and all of that driving? She must feel like she intrudes on her in laws by staying with them every week too. I can't imagine that being super awesome no matter how close her family is, and I don't know anything about her family. (Obviously. She's my therapist. You're not supposed to talk about her personal stuff. It's not professional. It's all me, me, me in there.)

I knew it was coming, but I still didn't feel prepared and how fast it's going to happen was a bit of a shock. I sat in the car and cried afterwards. I just felt like I have been doing so much better lately and this feels like a huge set back. This is the biggest support person I have in my life now and I'm going to lose her. It feels a little like being abandoned. I know I'm not, I know she's a professional and this is her job, but, it just feels that way. I don't want her to go away... I depend on her!

After I lost Matt, it took me a long time to find a therapist. Kaiser could not offer me the kind of support I needed and once they kicked me out of outpatient (there's a limit to how long you can be in it) and then out of the outpatient support groups (another limit) there wasn't really any where for me to "go." The most a therapist could see me was once every 6 weeks. I could sit on an emergency list in case anyone canceled (and I could take their appointment), but that was it. There wasn't a support group that really fit me. I couldn't be with the bereavement/grief groups- no one had died. I could go to a depression support group, but I was devastated and traumatized, I needed more. I could go to a relationship support group- but it was mixed sex and I didn't want to talk about that, I didn't need relationship support, my relationship was over. That was kind of the point. I took classes and attended support groups for anxiety, depression and PTSD and tried to find a therapist outside of Kaiser. Everyone was so expensive. I called every place they reccomended to me and I still couldn't afford it. I sat in my house, under the covers and cried. I didn't shower for weeks. I stopped eating.

Finally my mom came to visit in September and went through the directory and came up with a list of non-profits that would work with me on a sliding scale. It still took me another month of hiding in my house and crying, making appointments with therapists that were too expensive and who I didn't mesh with before I finally found my current therapist. I was so relieved to have found her and I was a mess when I finally got in. It had been almost two months and after spending so much time either sitting and staring or crying curled up in a ball in my bed, hiding from the world- I was such a mess. My appointments with her first and foremost got me out of the house. That was huge. What she did for me emotionally is indescribable.

I love her, she helps me, she makes me feel validated and supported. I dread the idea of starting over with someone new. Where do I even begin? Do I have to start all over? She wants to transition me to someone else in the office, but what do we do, go back to the beginning? This lady wouldn't know my heart, what I'd been through, how far I'd come, what still hurts me and what to be careful of.

It's daunting. But am I really ready to quit therapy? Probably not.

I just don't want her to go and I am sad. :(

Amelia the Marshmallow

The last couple of months I have been looking at my baby Amelia and thinking... "You're looking extra plumpy today, Amelia." Um, everyday.

Not just like a "fat day." Like, every day.

After somebody left a MEAN, MEAN, MEAN comment on a video where Toulouse and Charlie Brown were wrestling on You Tube (the person called them both fat and said they were going to die from obesity- the dog only weighs 19 pounds! Toulouse is within a healthy range, big cat, but still okay!) I talked to my dad and then thought the only other being besides myself in this house with a legitimate weight problem- Amelia.

So, I put her on the scale. DUN DUN DUN!

The last time she was weighed, she weighed 14 pounds, same as Toulouse. She just carries her weight differently than him so she looks bigger even though they weigh the same. But, lately I have noticed she has not been cleaning "back there" and wondered if maybe she couldn't reach! (Ick!)

The result... 16.2 POUNDS!

OMG. I died. How did she get so chubby?! She's on weight control food! She is VERY sedentary. (More sedentary than me if you can believe it.) And since we've gotten the dog she's been more isolated, does less, isn't out much. Maybe that's why? I've also felt like we've been going through WAY more food lately.

I'm not sure what to do. Toulouse is really active, so eats and needs to. They have always free-fed, but I guess Amelia needs something different now. I guess I will have to start measuring their food. The problem is Toulouse is such a pig I'm afraid he'll eat it all and leave her nothing. I even have an extra bowl of food for him on the counter (where she won't go) of perscription food and he still eats her weight watchers food. He also yowls insanely if he finds the bowls empty. He will wake me out of a dead sleep to alert me to this DISASTER. If I don't respond to that, or lock him out of the room, then he starts going through the trash or knocking things off the counter to make noise. I swear. Because as soon as I get up he runs over to me and gets all lovey- "Feed me, feed me, I'm STARVING!" If I walk away he gets loud again. Argh!

Anyway, so ideas and suggestions are welcome. I have probably heard them all (separate them, timed feedings, blah blah blah) but maybe there is something new. Maybe I just need a cheerleader!

Next I decided I better take action RIGHT AWAY, so at midnight, about 4 minutes after weighing her and receiving this devastating news (it took three tries to weigh her because she kept cheating and taking one paw off, making it look like she weighed around 10 pounds. But I knew that was wrong!) I put on her pink halter and we went for a walk.

This is what she did:

Shimmied on her belly across the grass, started EATING it, and then waddled back to the house!

What am I going to do with her?!

More bad news.

I have been waiting for months, probably since last summer, with baited breath to find out what would happen to Matt. Now, I wouldn't actually ever find out what happened to him, but there's one thing I could do. Because he is an employee of the state, his salary is public record. You can look it up in the newspaper actually. I was hoping I would look it up and it would be like, $50,000 and then I would know he had been suspended or fired and that he had really gotten some sort of punnishment.

I texted a friend on the way to therapy and she said the info had been posted and she looked it up. No dice. He made over $120,000 last year, and it was only $300 less than the year before. No suspension, no firing, no punnishment of any kind.

During the interview I asked them what could possibly be done to him and they were not very specific, which was frustrating. They kept saying it "varied" but the only examples of reprimand they gave me was a letter in his file, suspension, or firing. The woman also said something about if one of their guys "needs help" they will make sure he gets it. She didn't elaborate on what that meant. Therapy maybe? What could that be? A mandated psychological evaluation to make sure he wasn't suicidal like he claimed to be? I know he got a letter in his file, but only because it was in the letter I received, and I think it's standard for any sort of complaint. Even if they had decided he was innocent I think it would have been put in there for record purposes.

So he got nothing. He is happily married, with his new baby, and working his dream job. While I sit here and rot. Yes, granted things may not be as they appear to be, but that's how it FEELS to me. He got to keep his life. I didn't. I lost my partner, and that, to me, was everything. It was my past, present and future and it was all gone now. He has everything he had before. No consequences.  It's not fair.

I spent a good chunk of time crying in therapy about it today. I feel better now, but I don't think I will ever feel better about him getting away with it.