Relationships Part One

Some recent events in my apartment complex brought past memories bubbling to the surface. 

While I reflect on my experiences with dating, I come to the understanding that none of my past relationships were healthy. Most left me feeling like I was not good enough or worthy of love. It is interesting how the actions of others can shape how we see ourselves. One specific relationship left my life in turmoil for nearly a decade after ending. 

I was in the process of separating from my husband and trying to find my way through life. I worked long overnight shifts that were typically uneventful. I started messaging people from all over the United States on Myspace to fill the void. I started regularly talking to someone who lived in Southern California. His profile picture was of him shirtless on the beach. He said it was from a sunglasses modeling ad he had done. Once my divorce was finalized, Shirtless and I spent more time texting and chatting. Spending 10 or more hours talking during my overnight shifts. I felt close to him very quickly. He made me feel special and like we had a real connection. 

After being officially in a relationship for about six months, I flew to LAX to meet him. This was my first trip outside New England; I had never flown anywhere. My son was also very young at the time.

Shirtless was renting this cute one-bedroom apartment close to where he worked. During the weekdays, he would work at the school, and I would explore with my rental car. I drove around Rose Hills Cemetery and fell in love with all the trees. I found multiple thrift stores and the 99¢ Store. At night, we would drink and cook and live it up. I honestly thought I had found my soulmate. 

It wasn't until years later that I would clearly see the red flags presented during this initial trip. At the time, I was starving for love and attention. It wasn't something I grew up receiving, so I sought it out in unhealthy ways. 

We would drink heavily many nights and leave candles burning all around us. Never thinking of the consequences. 

We would pass out from drinking and lack of sleep, and I would be woken up by the sound of Shirtless urinating in the bed next to me. This happened several times. I would clean up the mess each time while he was at work and do all of his laundry. 

When my trip was coming to an end, I was exhausted from the lack of sleep and drinking like a fish. Shirtless got upset with me for wanting to sleep before having to travel home. I made it to my flight and got myself home in one piece. Leaving there was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. Our connection felt so strong. 

Shirtless and I would see each other every three to six months over the next three years. Again, many red flags were ignored because I was under his spell. Each time I visited, the heavy drinking continued. At least one or two of the days were spent arguing. We would drink, he would turn into a different cruel person, and the next day, we would make up. This cycle repeated and continued to gain a greater intensity. 

A flight was often booked shortly after one of us did something to threaten the relationship. There were times when it was radio silence for days. I was starving for affection and attention and resorted to cheating to meet those needs. I would find out later that Shirtless was doing meth and trying to hide it from everyone. So he would completely stop talking to me for days at a time while he was using. Then, try to explain it away, saying he forgot his phone somewhere. 

I cannot explain why I continued to fight so hard for my relationship with Shirtless. I felt like I had nothing here in Maine. I felt so alone. My family didn't seem to care about or spend time with me. I was also drinking a lot during these times. 

After a three-year long-distance relationship, I was approved by the court to move to California with my son. Before moving, Shirtless and I got a surprise. His parents purchased a home for us to rent once I moved there. It was a beautiful three-bedroom home with a fenced-in backyard. There was a small porch on the front that was surrounded by birds of paradise. 

Once I had saved what I thought was enough money, all of our belongings were packed and transported to California by a moving company. And one morning, we packed up my car and started our adventure to the west. My niece came with us for the road trip. She didn't have a driver's license at the time, but having her with us helped tremendously. The four days on the road are a blur. We would book hotels for the night and drive all day, sometimes starting at 4 am. 

Once we arrived at our new home in Whittier, CA, I thought my fairytale would begin. If only I knew it would be more like one of Grimm's Fairy Tales. 

Over the years, Shirtless' drinking had taken over. It began to impact every realm of our lives. I quickly found a job working part-time hours on the weekend. I was able to add to my workload by finding an overnight factory job during the weekdays. Shirtless lost his job due to his alcoholism. So, there was tremendous pressure to increase my hours. After a week of working my laborious factory job, I arrived home around 630 am and tried to sleep. Shirtless was passed out drunk across "our" bed. I told my son to play in his room so I could nap, and I ventured to the couch, where I soon fell asleep with the help of Ambien, Melatonin, and Klonopin.

Close to an hour after falling asleep, I was awoken by a loud knocking on the front door. I opened the door and found a stranger standing there with my son. I was visibly confused as I had just fallen asleep with such a heavy cocktail of sleeping aides. Stranger lady told me that there was an accident with my husband and my son was in the vehicle with him. I looked my son over; he seemed okay, not upset or afraid. Stranger lady then tells me that the car is being towed. This is when reality sank in. Shirtless had already crashed and sold off his vehicle. What car did she mean?! She said to look down the street as he didn't make it far from the house. Sure enough, it was my car. He had crashed MY car with MY child inside of it into three or four other vehicles. He had taken my only mode of transportation, crashed it, and got it towed away. I recall standing there in disbelief, watching my blue Ford Focus being pulled onto a tow truck and Shirtless miserably failing his field sobriety test. This is the moment I should have packed my things and returned to Maine. 

Unfortunately, that is not what happened.

To be continued...