I’ve been avoiding things that make me feel too much, simply because I can’t carry any more. I avoid my place in NY for the same reason. I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t even walk by it when I’m heading to the park because I begin to feel knots in my stomach from all of the bad energy.
Tomorrow, I’ll be heading to NY with Kim and while the idea used to excite me, I’m now dreading being in a place that feels so…bad. A place where I can never even manage to sleep anymore and that I’ve been having bad dreams about. I don’t know what kinda juju my ex had her people put on me and that house, but it worked and I don’t have enough energy to fight it. Anytime I’m in the place all I can think about is how many times I felt like she was gonna end up killing me in there.
I’d sleep in my guest room and wake up to her standing in the doorway, just watching. We’d fight and I’d have to strategically make sure I fought and beat her in a place where there were no weapons, or that I hurt her so badly that she would curl up instead of retaliate, which was usually the case. I’d stay in the house, skip class, and not speak to anyone for days because I had cuts and bruises on me. I remember once, in an attempt to defend myself, beating her unconscious and feeling horrified, thinking I’d killed her, but being more concerned about the blood leaking from her mouth onto my $16,000 rug. Throwing water on her face to wake her up, then walking away from her body lying there and going to take a shower and sleep. I felt…cold…unfeeling. It was then that I knew I could no longer stay there. If I could potentially kill her and not feel anything more than disdain for the fact that she was bleeding on my rug, it was far beyond time. She’d turned me into my father. Yet, I’d always feel like a horrible person just for wanting to leave her…her family…my marriage. I knew I’d gotten with her for the wrong reasons. I knew she’d always loved me more than I loved her. I knew she lashed out because she felt my lack of real love for her. But I stayed…and tried…and ruined her and myself.
I remember the day I stood in my library looking around at the custom-built shelves I’d had brought in and thinking about how much my home felt like a jail to me. I wanted to end it all. To take my pills and fall into a sleep I wouldn’t wake up from. I was exhausted mentally and physically. I couldn’t fight anymore and nobody knew what was going on but me. Then my doorbell rang. I planned to ignore it but it kept ringing incessantly. I ran downstairs and threw the door open to see my grandad, standing there with my sister and a bouquet of tiger lilies. I put on my usual show for my sister but I knew that my grandad knew. I knew that he felt me and I watched him cry while meditating that night. I could hear him mentally…saying how he couldn’t save me when he should have. How he left my dad to do it and he didn’t. How I was all he had left. I hadn’t felt that level of pain, ever. Two days later, I started the divorce process and embarked upon the hardest 3 years of my life.
Now when I go, I stay in lively places like midtown or Times Square. Anywhere that doesn’t give me enough mental space to think and feel. I roam around all night or stay up writing unless my sister comes over, then I stay up watching her sleep. I’m disturbed there at night much in the way that I used to be as a child. Unable to sleep, mentally prepping myself for my step dad’s arrival nightly and staring at the ceiling once the deed was done, crying silent tears so as not to wake my sister.
I’m taking Kim there tomorrow to handle business that I know that my attorney can technically handle for us. But I’m taking Kim because I know she needs to see. She needs to know what she now owns and not just some figures on a piece of paper. She needs to see the neighborhood and be able to explain to people where her home is. I wish I would’ve done it much sooner. That way we wouldn’t be spending our anniversary in a place I now dislike doing something I don’t want to do. I’m tempted to buy us some tickets to Miami instead and I would, if I didn’t know how disappointed she’d be. So I’ll go. We’ll go. And I’ll struggle through and allow this to be our second anniversary that goes uncelebrated.
That’s one thing about me-I think that celebrating things correctly is important. People’s birthdays…anniversaries…huge life changes-they’re a big deal. But the older I get, the more I find that I’m the only one that seems to consider them such. Sigh. I wanted to do something fun for a couple of days. Go to Orlando to a theme park. D.C. For the African American museum. New Orleans just for the night. A staycation here with no work. Anything anywhere else. I want to feel like the things I want to do matter. I guess they do…just not right now. Too many moving pieces that need to be put back into place. Anyway, off to work I go.