The most meaningful words can fall upon deaf ears
the heart’s truth gushing forth the blood of emotionalism
and yet its recipient lacks observation.
Yours was the guillotine that sliced through my optimism
Your words and actions, the tools of torture
Your judgement and apathy, weapons of mass destruction
Needle in hand, I will suture my heart
Pen in hand, I will sooth my soul
Guyan Mudra in hand, I will meditate through the conflict
Love has left a lasting impression
Its chalk outline never leaving
only fading in and out, sometimes brighter and more recent
other times, barely visible under the light of life experience………
whoever said it is better to have loved and lost,
never loved you.
As I sat in the Zen den last night playing guitar and listening to the invigorating sounds of rain drops pattering my tin roof, a familiar yet unwelcome wave of ambivalence pounded me. They say that there are 7 steps in the grieving process and acceptance being the final but I am either some alien anomaly or this process has no apodictic conclusion. This is to say that while I have come to accept the circumstances and the actions at their origin, I am still emotionally undulatory. I suppose what is really plaguing me is that several months ago, I conjured and delivered quite possibly the most venomous email ever, well for me anyway. I had finally reached my breaking point and I felt that not only were the feelings expressed honest but also necessary. Prior to this, throughout the saga I had remained the heroine. I was understanding, forgiving, loving, compassionate even sympathetic. All those around me found this most disturbing given the circuitous nature of the situation but I maintained that I would not lower myself to the level on which he was operating. Unfortunately, that email was the swift and certain end of that.
It is not that I did not mean every word of it, I did. How could I maintain loving someone who showed me such apathy and disrespect? I could not. I had to make a stand, or so I believed. I had to tell him that I never wanted to speak to him again, didn’t I? To say that my words were rooted in pride would be a fallacy, they were rooted in pain. In those moments of fingers racing irresponsibly across the keyboard, I recall the sensation of a blatant and brusque realization. Every action suddenly and ceremoniously slapped me in the face. All those 7 stages in one volcanic, apocalyptic explosion but unfortunately the only emotions conveyed were anger and hate. At first, I was highly satisfied with myself. I had taken back my power. I was no longer lending my heart to someone’s immature and erratic whims. I was taking a stand.
Then came the waves of shame. And now they are waves of regret. Ambivalence, the mother of all conundrums. And this is precisely the reason that I acted out of love for those first several months because that is who I am. My ex-fiance told me this morning when I confessed that I was having a delayed reaction to all of this that I am just not capable of not caring. He said that I never should have written all those things because I am not that person. that I will always care. I consistently struggle with whether or not that is a negative attribute. When does forgiving become tolerating? And when does tolerating become egregious? And when does that egregiousness become abuse?
Buddhism is founded on compassion and forgiveness but when is enough, enough? Is it ever ok to condemn someone for horrendous and hurtful actions? Or should we constantly forgive and forget? My intellect tells me that the actions of this man were unforgivable but my heart tells me that I will always love him and that I am better than the things that I said. I just wish I knew how to protect myself while also being the big-hearted person that apparently, I am. I used to imagine myself as a statue with cracks, perhaps one of those Greek goddesses missing an appendage or something. Beautiful and flawed. Now I realize that I am still a wobbly ball of clay striving to take form. I suppose there is freedom in that.
Maybe the real forgiving that is necessary is that of myself.
As the year comes to an end, I can not help but be relieved and excited for this has easily been the worst year of my life. For most that statement would seem or actually be hyperbolic but for me, it is an entirely accurate assessment. Other years have been difficult, often stressful with equestrian competitions, family health emergencies and work but the incidents were spread out over the course of the year and usually there was some semblance of resolution. This year, this bastard year has had back to back tragedies and there is no resolution in sight. Sure, I am emotionally healing from all the loss but it will never be completely gone. It is almost as if my heart is a bone that has a compound fracture, it will heal with some surgery and some pins and screws but the evidence will always be seen. A CSI-esque post mortem on me would have the investigators saying, “This woman had her heart-broken, as you can see on the X-ray, those prominent white lines represent the calcification. It is an old wound, she was most likely 30 years of age when it occurred.”
I guess I assumed that when you reach a certain age there are certain ways of doing things. When you get to be this wonderful age, you have the right to say things like, “What are we in high school?” But the sad part is that this amazing, magical age when wisdom and maturity take over and all of your actions are rooted in intelligence, logic and past experience, it does not exist. I am 3o and I have such a horrendous time of comprehending how at this age, people are still acting like children. And it is not just the 30 year olds, it is 4o years olds and some in their 50’s. Unfortunately, 2011 brought me to the realization that maturity and virtue are absolutely not proportionate to numerical age. I thought, based on past experience that when you break up with someone, you express the reasons and it is a one-on-one conversation. There is no peanut gallery casting dispersions, no overly dramatic scene just two people who cared for one another ending one relationship and hopefully salvaging another. My ex-fiance and I were together on and off for seven years and lived together for most of them. At the conclusion of our relationship, we expressed our deep love for each other but also knew that our relationship had transitioned into more of a friendship. He is now my dearest and closest friend. There was no yelling, screaming, name calling, no ugliness at all. I assumed this was possible with every relationship. I suppose my thought process is that if I thought highly enough of someone to live with them and even to contemplate marriage, why on earth would I not want them in my life? I have no idea why the general consensus is that ex’s can not and should not remain friends. Shouldn’t we all have the maturity and unconditional love for one another, that even if one type of relationship does not work, we are still open to another type? There will never be any resolution to this break up. William will never tell me why or say he is sorry. We will never be friends. I will never see one of my cats again. William will never see his glorious Siamese boys again. And I will never understand why everything had to transpire this way. This kills me. The fact that he is over in another country and keeps blogging pontifications about American life and the cultural differences and blah, blah, blah also kills me. No emotion, no regret, no guilt, no love, no friendship just BS. I guess that is who he is though. Bottom line: No resolution.
2011 also left me unemployed. I had a great job that I loved and I was let go not because I did not do my job or because I came in late too many times. No I was fired because my boss fell in love with me and we worked for his in-laws. I knew he was in love with me because he had told me numerous times. He sent me emails and poems, all expressing that I was his soul mate and he had never felt this way about anyone. I found all of this hard to believe since he was married and had been for ten years. At the time his wife was also pregnant. I tried to reassure him that he was just having these feelings because he was stressed about everything and needed an emotional distraction but he maintained that his feelings were real. I told William about all of this because I thought it was important to be honest, I had no idea this information would be revised and used against me later. I told my boss over and over again that I was in a committed relationship and that I was not going anywhere and that he and his wife should get counseling, which they did. But at some point, he was overwhelmed and decided to tell her that he was in love with another woman. From what I understand which is second-hand, he was honest with her and said that nothing had ever happened between us but that he was still in love with me. Apparently though, the fact that we had no physical contact whatsoever was of no relevance. The fact that I was not in love with him was of no relevance. 24 hours later, we were both fired. This also happened to occur the same weekend that William left. Yeah, real shitty weekend! And has my boss ever called to apologize for his lapse in judgment which cost me my job? No. Has he ever called the “love of his life” to see how I am doing? No. So again, no resolution.
I suppose the worst aspect of 2011 is that it has left me questioning everything. I was a solid Buddhist before all of this. I believed in astrology and the Aquarian Age shift, hell I was stoked about it. I believed that people were inherently good but that every now and they messed up. I believed that I was in a good relationship with a good guy. I believed that I was on my way to having a career in an industry that I loved. I believed that you get out what you put in. I believed that all my hard work was going to pay off. I believed that everything works out in the end.
So 2011, good riddance. I am so ready for this year to be over. 2012 Bring it on! End of the world? Whatever, my world already ended. Bring it on! This year WILL be better. This year will be what I make of it! This year I will not be naive. This year I will not let other people interfere with my goals and my standards for myself. This year I will not be caught off guard. This year is going to be about me and my quest to be the best version of myself possible. And I can not wait!
Yesterday was a day full of weddings. It was if everyone I knew was getting married. Being a spiritual person, I understood why so many people had chosen to get married yesterday. It was 11/11/11. A date that by astrological predictions is the first major shift into the Aquarian age. This new age is supposed to be quite a paradigm departure from what we have known. It is a shift from self-serving attitudes and using technology for solely information gathering to a new age of truth, hope and peace. An age in which we are all supposed to come from our hearts and use our compassion to help and heal, an all around more loving and peaceful time for all humanity. So why was I so ambivalent and confused?
I had honestly, been dreading this wedding. I wanted to see my cousin get married and I really enjoyed the idea of reconnecting with family members that I had not seen in many, many years but there was an underlying current of fear. Having recently been abandoned by a person that I thought that I was going to marry, the idea of being around such a romantic situation scared me to death. The last thing that anyone wants to do on someone else’s wedding day is have an all out emotional break down. I struggled with the decision for several days and in the end I decided that it would be too selfish of me not to go solely because of what I had just been through so I begged a friend to go with me and we went.
The wedding was lovely and everyone was so happy to be there and several of my family members were elated that I had chosen to attend, which obviously made me feel good but as the evening progressed it was like a bad 80’s teen movie and unfortunately I was the star. I was totally having one of those moments where every song reminds you of your ex. It was brutal. I mean seriously, did someone call him and make a freaking playlist? Despite the inner turmoil that I felt, I maintained a charming smile and made sure that no one not even my date realized what was really happening. I laughed. drank, joked and socialized as if I were the happiest person in the room but inside I was practically dying.
I suppose a good deal of the pain emerged from the sense that I thought I was going to be a bride. I had often pictured what our wedding would be like, what songs we would play and the look on his face as I said that I would love, cherish and honor him for the rest of my life. It’s really hard not to let your mind run away from you. All of a sudden thoughts raced through my brain and the emotions shortly after. I was so sad. I wondered what it would have been like to be there with him or what our friends would have said about us in their toasts. I felt such an enormous loss. The loss of a future that I longed for with all my heart. But it was not my wedding, I was not there with him and I might never see or speak to this person again. Finality punched me in the face for what I hope is the last time.
It has been a little over five months since William left Austin and almost a month since he left the country. It is amazing how long this process takes. Given how he chose to end our relationship and how he has acted since, I would have thought and hoped that I would be over it by now but I still feel like I have a way to go in the healing process. And I hate it! Those around the situation maintain that I should be so angry with him and in fact hate him for what he did and therefore should feel nothing but relief at the fact that he is gone, perhaps forever. Yet, no matter how may times I hear what a douchebag he was or how I deserve so much better or the favorite quote, “You really dodged a bullet”, I am still left picking up the pieces of a shattered person. One of the reasons that all of my friend’s advice is somewhat obsolete is that I loved him. I really loved him and that is not ever going to change. It is not in me to hate him. How do you hate someone who you chose to live with for over three years? I can not do it. I may hate his actions and I may be infuriated by the things that he has said and his astounding level of apathy but I will always love him. A flaw that I can not seem to transform.
I am plagued by the same thoughts that I believe most people who have been dumped are plagued by. What was so wrong with me? What did I do to deserve this? And perhaps the most damaging, why was I not good enough? As I try to rebuild myself, I try to find a way to view things from a more objective perspective. I try to take responsibility for any actions that I took that I am less than proud of and take personal inventory of how I could better handle those situations in the future. I also try to ascertain what issues are not mine and were products of his own flaws. I try not to let his issues affect me anymore and solely deal with my own behaviour but it is difficult to differentiate sometimes. The pain persists and I question whether it will ever really be gone. In the meantime I am doing everything that I can to get over this situation and at the very least handle it with some grace and class.
That is why break ups suck. They cause you to question everything and sometimes they destroy any self-confidence or sense of yourself and require a total overhaul. I can certainly say that I am not the same person I was five months ago, physically, emotionally, spiritually and psychologically. I hope that in the end I will have forged a better me. I have always been told that diamonds are forged under extreme pressure and I hope that the saying will translate in my life. I hope that all these broken pieces that I am reclaiming and carefully reconstructing will be stronger and more adept. So while going to the wedding last night was difficult and there were times when I thought I could not handle it, I am glad that I went. It was another chance for me to test my new resolve and a chance for me to learn more about myself and to be proud of who I am becoming.
My advice to anyone going through a difficult break up would be to always behave in a way that is true to yourself. Take the high road when possible, even though it is tedious. Always act of compassion and love. Speak your truth. And be gentle with yourself. Because though the pain can seem unbearable and hope is often a distant memory, you can overcome and you will! It has been five months for me and I am not there yet but I am much farther along than I was two months ago and that is something.
For many years, I have enjoyed singing and music. If you were to peruse through my Ipod your first thought would most likely be Wtf, who is this chick? I have a vast array of live techno sets from Ibiza, Club Space in Miami and the now long forgotten Love Parade in Germany. But hidden amidst the electronica you would find Erykah Badu, NIN, Etta James, Janis Joplin, the Deftones, Jay-Z, The Smiths, A Perfect Circle and many more. I suppose my musical tastes say a lot about who I am as a person. I am girlie, soulful, tough, vulnerable, intense, complicated, sexy and an endless well of emotional depth. My friends usually know exactly what mood I am in by what I am listening to. I see the expression on their faces when they come in to my house and I am jamming to Hole or riding in the car when I put on Fiona Apple. Its one of those days is it? I run to Dj Tiesto and when I was still fighting for a living, the boxing gym could usually overhear 36 Mafia or Pit Bull. That is what I love most about music, no matter what mood I am in or what I am going through in life it seems someone knows exactly what I am feeling and they have put it into words.
Several months ago, I decided that I wanted to be one of those people. I want to write down everything inside me and have it emerge gloriously out of my mouth. I want to share my happiness and my pain. I want to be able to sing a note and have it touch someone else the way that I have been touched by so many artists. So I decided to seek out a voice coach, against my better judgement. You see, all my life I have been an athlete. I was an elite level gymnast until high school, I played volleyball, I boxed professionally and as of last year I am a five time National Champion Equestrian. I have so much confidence in my physical abilities but when it comes to music and other arts I have hidden in the corner. Maybe it is because I feel so much more vulnerable singing, letting people read my poetry and even writing this blog. I suppose that I have always been afraid that I would not be as good at things of this nature as I am doing anything that requires athleticism. For once in my life though, my passion for music and my need to purge all that lies beneath is so great that I have thrown caution to the wind and dug in.
My voice coach is the most amazing woman and I always leave feeling like I am a better person for going. She has taught me that perfection is not only unattainable but unnecessary. She has also taught me that I am my own worst enemy and my worst critic, not to mention that because of her I can hit notes I never thought imaginable. The thing about singing in front of someone is that in that moment of total vulnerability you are you, at your most raw. There is no hiding, no pretense and thankfully for me, no judgment. I am merely told, do it this way or try this and see if it is easier and sounds better. I relish the freedom that I feel there. It is as if when I am there, I can feel myself growing. More importantly, I can feel myself healing. My voice lessons have also lead me to start a band with the help of a dear and extremely talented friend. We began working on our first track last week and it has been revolutionary.
Last night my friend and I started the production on our track as many of the lyrics had already originated from recent journal entries. We sat and played piano and guitar and hemmed and hawed over what the base line would be and what we should do with the melody in the second stanza and so forth. As I struggled to create, I stopped for a moment and thought how lovely it was that in that moment all the suffering that I had been feeling had dissipated. This struck me as particularly odd because the entire song was about my recent break up. So why was I not as upset anymore? I believe that the therapy in this process for me was that while they were my words and my experiences, I was forced to contemplate it in a more analytical way when I transitioned the emotion to music. I felt more removed and more connected at the same time. It was such a beautiful development. For hours, my attention was solely on the music. My mind was not bogged down with the events of the day or the ghosts of my past, just the music. I finally understood why so many people enjoy this process. It is a healing process. It is creation from destruction. It is a light in the darkest corner of my soul. It is that which fills the void in my heart that has been so pervasive. It reminds me to be appreciative.
I am so thankful to have found this new talent and to be supported by all of my friends in this endeavor. I am so thankful to be working towards a better understanding of myself and to end an era of unhealthy self-judgement. I am thankful for all the musical interludes to my pain. Lastly, I am even thankful for the disaster that brought me here. If I had not been completely broken down, I never would have had the courage to embark on this journey. So whether I end up on a stage in front of hundreds, recording in a famous studio or singing for my animals in my living room, I am thankful that someone stripped all of my armor away and left me in such a lowly place that all I could do was be myself and try to heal.
“The secret of health for both mind and body is not to mourn for the past, nor to worry about the future, but to live the present moment wisely and earnestly.
So there I was, bewildered, sleep deprived, starving and in shock. Thoughts raced through my head. Why was Will’s dad with him? Why will he not say anything? What that the hell is happening? The answers were ugly.
As I sat in my car looking at William in his car, I begged him to say something, anything. Before he could, his dad said something, anything and everything. First he told me that William was done with me, that he did not love me anymore and that he did not want to be with me, that our relationship was over and he was taking Will back to Philly with him. Side note- Will and I had just resigned a six month lease not three weeks before all of this. Then when I brought up the fact that I had just found out that I was pregnant, William’s father said and I will NEVER forget these words, “We don’t even know that it is his!” Its funny how one sentence, a subject and a verb splashed with a pronoun can do so much damage. I looked at Will almost begging him to stop all of the venom that was being spewed at me and yet there was nothing. At this point, I began to totally fall apart. It was not the kind of crying that you knew would make you feel better in the end, no it was the kind of crying that came from the depths of your soul, the kind you thought would never end. I called my mom because I had now encountered something the likes of which I could not even handle. She cancelled all of her hearings and came immediately.
So now, William and his father began tearing through our apartment madly grabbing anything that they could while I watched in agony. My mother asked Will’s father to let us speak alone, after all we had just spent years living together and we were adults, there had to be a better way than this. She was wrong. William continued to look at me, almost zombie like. No real emotion or soul behind his eyes, just this vacant stare. I begged him to talk to me, to tell me why and how he could do something like this. And when I say begged, I mean it. I got down on my knees, putting any pride or self-respect I had left to the side to show him that I was serious but anything I said no matter how heart-felt was met with snide remarks from his father and little to no response from Will. It was like he had been brain washed. There were phrases he just kept repeating over and over again but no real feeling behind it. As I tried desperately to get through to him, my mother attempted to contain his father outside so that we could talk. That did not last very long at all. She came bursting through the door saying that she could not stand to be there another moment. Apparently the blame game had started outside. My mother told his father that she did not appreciate the things that he had said to me and in return his father said that he did not appreciate me having an affair. Right, I had an affair. Someone had fallen in love with me. Nothing ever happened between the two of us other than him expressing his feelings for me. But did William’s father even bother to fact check, of course not. My mother knew the truth and said that that was ridiculous and that if he really wanted to get into it, she did not appreciate William spitting in my face two years prior to this. If you can not see the trend, things were spiraling downwards at an exponential pace. The ugliness was all around me and I could do was cry. Once my mother and I realized that this was indeed happening and there was nothing we could do, I fell to the floor and watched what had taken me over three years to build be destroyed in two hours.
I asked William what we were going to do about the baby and his response was that he did not want anything to do with it. It was all up to me. What do you even say to that? The kicker was that Will had always wanted kids and it was a point of contention because I did not until now. I wanted to have this one. Over the course of our relationship we had lost two others and I did not want to go through the pain of that again. Silly me, I thought he would be excited. I thought he would be happy that I finally wanted all the things he did but everything had changed in 48 hours. Now I was just some girl in some town that he had lived in for five years and he was done with it. He was leaving everything and wanted nothing to keep him tied to this place and this life. I hugged him or rather tried to hug him, in the very least I did not want to leave things so nasty. I loved him with all of my heart and I could not stand the thought of never seeing him again so I continuously tried to embrace him. He kept packing.
As they packed up all of his clothing and other personal belongings, I remember they had these very nonchalant conversations, almost as if it was totally normal to break someone’s heart, leave them pregnant and with an apartment and cats and berate them mercilessly. It was like it was something that occurred every day. I distinctly remember there was even joking. I kept feeling the sense that I had entered some alternate reality or dimension and it all felt very wrong. After two hours, they had most of his stuff out and in his car leaving me with everything else to take care of at some point. As he went for the cat, I tried to stop him but unfortunately she was his cat before this relationship so there was really nothing I could say to stop him. I disagreed with him taking her away from her brothers whom she loved but his response was that he just wanted to take one of the other cats as well. I could barely believe that now we were bargaining with our children. I finally put my foot down and told him I thought he had taken quite enough from me and that was it. I was then told if I really loved him, I would let him take Christian. If I really loved him I would let him take our other cat? If I really loved HIM! I was being crushed and destroyed and I was still expected to act out of love when all that was being shown to me was hatred? They told me what a good home he would have and how much space there was. A good home? Our definitions of a good home, I was sure at this point were very different so I declined. Will was walking out on every responsibility he had and I was supposed to trust that he would take care of my babies, no.
The boy cats watched as their sister was crated and out the door. William just waved to me and then he was gone………..
I described this incident in-depth not to blame or make William and his father appear a certain way but rather to express why the event was so traumatic. There was pain and loss on so many levels that it truly was a tragedy. I felt betrayed, abandoned, disparaged, unloved and confused. Mostly though I felt like my life was over. I had lived and breathed for him. Every thing I had done for the past three years was with the belief that we were meant to be together. I loved him that much. I had tolerated things that I never thought I would because I loved him that much and now it was gone. My heart was gone. My reason for being was gone, everything was ripped away in an instant.
In the weeks to follow, I would only hear from William four times. One was a text the next day asking me to take care of our boys and that he was going to pay to break our lease all I had to do was sign a piece of paper, also that our relationship meant a lot to him and he loved me and that he was on his was on his way out-of-town. I did not hear from him again until weeks later after I had sent him texts, emails, songs, poems all expressing my love for him and the immense amount of grief I felt. I got two emails, both justifying what he did and blaming me for things I had done to cause this. I apologized over and over again for a while believing that perhaps I did cause this and it was my fault or that there was a justification for what he did. Not once did he apologize, not once did he ask about our baby or our cats, not once did he even ask how I was. No, this was all about him. What he was going through, how he felt. I was just as insignificant in our end as I had been all along even more so now that he was thousands of miles away. Its been six or seven weeks now and I have yet to hear his voice or have a real conversation with him. And yet I do not blame him for what he did. I do not hate him or wish him ill. I simply pray every day that he will wake up and become more aware of his actions and how they affect others and that our lives are not meant to be spent being selfish and self-serving but rather to love one another and live up to our potential as humans. And this is what good has come from such an ugly, awful event, the knowledge that we must live in a space of compassion, love and forgiveness. We can not control the actions of others. We can control our actions towards others and as long as we act out of a place of love, we are in our highest truth and power.
You can not blame someone for being where they are in their evolution or devolution as it may be…………………
And thus ends the ugliness and begins a new chapter…… The journey towards healing.
Now, that I have stated that I experienced a tragedy, I will explain what that means to me. I had been dating William for over three years. We had lived with each other for almost the same amount of time. We had an amazing apartment, three wonderful little cats and a seemingly challenging yet rewarding relationship. At some point I will get into the happenings of our relationship more in-depth but right now I want to focus on “the event” as I like to call it.
William’s friend was getting married in Philadelphia (where William is from) and there had been much discussion and controversy over him going to the wedding. Primarily because we did not have the financial means at the time for either one of us to go let alone both. His friend had offered to pay for his ticket, which was around $400 and I had expressed that I thought it was a bad idea to be taking money from someone who was in the process of getting married and was probably stretched too thin as it was. William had agreed with me but was obviously toiling over the idea of missing this occasion. So he turned to his parents who were always trying to get him to go back home for any and every occasion. They did not like him living in another state and this was very apparent over the course of the relationship. Per usual, his mother offered him the money as she had done many times if it involved him coming home. I appreciated the gesture but the fact that we were 30-year-old adults, I felt that it was time for us to stand on our own two feet and make decisions that were beneficial for our relationship. Without telling me anything, he accepted the money and bought the tickets. I did not find out about this until his sister messaged us on Facebook a month later. I was very displeased that he had gone behind my back and done this and did not even have the wherewithal to tell me himself. This lead to an argument but as the ticket was purchased there was nothing I could do so on we went…….
Two weeks before he was to leave, William became quite ill. He had an intermittent fever that lasted for three days. I, of course, took care of him diligently staying up all night for some days making sure his fever was coming down, making him tea , massaging his body and giving him medicine. He was finally better after about 5 days and a dr.’s visit. Well anyone knows in a couple that lives together if one of you gets sick, its only a matter of time. The following week, I became quite ill. I could not swallow, I had an enlarged tonsil, just felt terrible. I went to the dr. and sure enough I had an absessed tonsil and some sort of ulcer in the back of my throat, it was nasty! I asked William to stay and take care of me because I truly felt awful. The Thursday before he was to leave he told me that he would stay and that it was only fair given that I had taken care of him and that he would just call and apologize for missing the wedding but his partner needed him and he was going to be there. Friday morning before he went to work he tells me, “You will be fine, I will see you on Sunday night.” Obviously I was angry, he had just told me that he was staying and now all of a sudden I am going to see you on Sunday? Then he grabbed his backpack and off he went. I called him and called him, no answer. This was a common avoidance tactic he employed. So I called his school and finally got him. We had a long, challenging conversation and it ended with him expressing that he was afraid to make anyone angry and that is why he had undulated BUT that he was going to stay and I would see him in a couple of hours I had his WORD. Hours passed and I tried to call him, all I got was a text stating that he was boarding a plane, he was sorry and he was turning his phone off. His phone remained off all weekend despite messages from me that one of our cats was having an emergency. At this point, I lost it and I mean lost it. I was having panic attacks, I could not sleep or eat, I mean I was not in a good space but did he care even in the slightest? No. Sunday night rolled around and he still did not come home and I did not even hear from him. Now, I started to really panic. Was he ok? Did the plane land on time? I called the airlines and it had indeed landed on time. So where was he? I tried to get some sleep, thinking he had to show up at some point, I mean he had to go to work Monday morning, I was wrong about that too…… I went to get some food finally and when I was driving in to our apartments I passed him in the car, with his DAD, who must have flown down with him. I was shocked and had no idea what was about to transpire. Until I asked to speak with him and that is when all the real ugliness began…………