Light at the End of the Dark Tunnel

This blog was always my safe, happy place.  When I look back and reflect on my thoughts and feelings, my reflections and revolutions, there was always a common thread.  Yes, I wanted to find myself.  Yes, I wanted to rebuild the best life for me and my son.  But the key to all of that was to find love again.  Through my growth I learned to be how strong and independent I really was.  I took great pride in that, still do!  But I wanted to love again.  Not because I couldn't find happiness without it, I just knew that a true, loving and healthy partner in life would make life that much richer.  So while I was searching for myself, I was also (mentally) searching for what I wanted and needed in a relationship.  It didn't take long after meeting John to realize that he was just that.  My amazing. 

On October 8, 2016 John and I were married!!!  And in many ways, this blog came full circle as it influenced so much of that very special and happy, happy day.  Life goes on and there is much happiness to be found.  I found light at the end of my dark tunnel.  <3

5 Years

On May 16, 2011, I got a call from Dale's mom in the early evening hours.  He had missed a doctor's appointment and she hadn't been able to reach him.  She told me that she thought it best if I stayed inside for the remainder of the night.  At this point, I hadn't spoken to Dale in over two weeks and the last time I had he was angry.  So angry.  With me.  So I took this advice from his mother with great heed.  Not only did I stay inside, I barricaded my front door with a table.  I had no idea what the situation was and didn't want to take any chances.

What I did know was that I was already on high alert and this day brought it up even higher.  It is hard to put into words what it is like to be with and to love someone who is suicidal.  There's no true relaxing.  There's always some tension, because you just never know.  You never know what you are going to see when you open that door.  You never know what words are going to be spoken on that telephone call.  Five years later, I can look back on my life and see that I was in a constant state of fear.  Fear of the unfathomable.  The unfathomable that became my reality.

I tried to treat this night as any other.  I took care of my son.  I made dinner.  I put him to bed.  I did the dishes.  I sat around and waited.  And waited.

Dale's sister was keeping me updated, but there was not much to report on.  They lived 5 hours away.  I could not have any contact with Dale.  Prayers and hope were all that I had while Dale's mom made the journey to what I can only describe as hell all alone to search for Dale.  They contacted his friends, but they hadn't heard from him.  He either didn't show up for work or he had the day off, so they hadn't heard from him.  Prayers and hope.  Prayers and hope.

Things weren't right. The day prior, Sunday the 15th, Dale was supposed to move in to his new apartment.  (I missed some events that happened between my last post and this one).  It was only a few blocks away from where our apartment was, where my son and I were living.  To this day, I am not for certain why the move never happened.  His parents were supposed to come that weekend to help him move.  I was told that the apartment ended up not being ready.  I gut tells me that Dale lied to his parents.  I think that he had made up his mind and there was no need to begin the daunting task of a move.

Shortly after 1:00 am on May 17th, I got a phone call from Dale's sister.  "Amy..." (pause that felt like infinity) "he's gone."  "No, Anne no."  We didn't speak much more than that.  If we did, I don't remember.  She had to go and wake up her father and tell him.  I called my sister.  I could barely speak.  The pause and hesitation in my own voice gave her a fear that I don't think ever escaped her. She thought that she was hearing my last breath, as I gasped for air and words.  In a voice that I could barely recognize as my own, I hoarsely told her.  He was gone.  Dale was gone.

And just like that everything fell silent.

I went to our son's room, hoping that his spirit would find us.  I didn't know what to do.  What do you do?  I couldn't comprehend what actually happened.  I wanted to wake up Ewan and just hold him.  But he was fast asleep and I just couldn't bear to wake him up.  He was so peaceful.  He was so innocent.  He was so unaware of the horror that just took place.  I didn't want to disturb that.  I wanted him to keep that for as long as he possibly could.  So instead, I laid on the floor in his room beside his crib.  I didn't cry.  I was too numb.

5 years ago... even the days match.  Tuesday, May 17, 2011... Dale left us.  Tuesday, May 17, 2016... I am writing and sharing my life, my breaths, my thoughts, my moments, my pain, my reality from five years ago.

The Kraken & Adele

The days between February 19th and March 16th were stressful and tense.  For two people living in an 800 square foot apartment, we didn't see each other very much.  Our once awkward apartment layout, turned to be useful when the one bedroom that was not attached to the rest of the apartment turned into Dale's room.  He continued to stay at home with our son during the day while I was at work, and he went to work at night, right when I got home.

I remember very few details during that month. I remember that his parents came to visit one weekend during that time.  But I don't remember anything about it.

I do remember that we discussed separating.  Our relationship was so toxic and I was just a lump of a person.  I had no personality and no backbone left to me.  I still had hope that we could somehow end up back together again and happy.  But I knew that wouldn't be possible if we were not healthy.  I knew for my own sake, I needed to be away from him in order to become healthy again.   When we were together we would find ourselves in a spiral downward and each time, we fell further and further down.

He wanted a plan.  He wanted my plan.  How did I foresee all of this taking place and how would it all work?  That was fair enough, except the fact that it was near impossible to talk with him.  He was angry and defensive throughout that entire month.  I was the one who could afford to maintain our apartment on my own salary, he couldn't, yet he felt that I was the one who should move out.  After all of his talks about us not being right for one another and divorce, now, he didn't like this plan of separation.  Like a good lawyer, he had an answer and an attack for everything.

He did agree to go to family therapy with me.  I was in the process of finding a counselor for the two of us to meet with simultaneously.  We both desperately needed help.  Had he decided not to come, I would have on my own.  That's where I now stood.

On March 16, 2011 Dale got a tattoo.  It was of a kraken.  A kraken is legendary sea monster that was so large that it could bring down entire ships.  The tattoo was on the inside bicep of his right arm.  I only remember seeing this tattoo once or twice.  The artist did an amazing job, just like he did on so many of Dale's other tattoos.   But this one was different.  It had such a dark meaning behind it as it had a direct connection to Dale's depression.

I  knew that things were bad.  I knew that things were tense.  I knew that Dale was capable of manipulating me too.  I knew that I couldn't revert back because Dale's depression made an appearance.   I had let his illness control my lift as much as it controlled his.  I also knew now that by letting myself be controlled and manipulated by him, I had become an enabler.  None of that worked, look at where we had come to and what we had become.

When Dale arrived home that night, we had some words.  I do not remember what they were.  But, I do remember standing in our hallway, head spinning, and looking into the kitchen and watching him and listening to Adele's new song that was playing.  He turned to me and said her words, "We could of had it all..."

Two months later, we had nothing.

Exactly 5 Years Ago

Our very last of "The Talks" happened on New Year's Eve 2010.  Instead of having a panic attack that time, it was the time that I told to myself that I was going to trying everything that I could do to make us work because it was going to be the last time.  I took that vow as Dale spewed out the same words as in all of the other talks.  I did speak up enough to tell him, when he got to the part that maybe we didn't belong together and that perhaps a divorce is inevitable, that if I ever said those words to him, they weren't going to be an empty threat.  If I said them, I was going to mean them.

I have no regrets about the things that I did that January and February.  I initiated, I stepped outside of my boundary lines, I gave it my all.  I have no regrets because had I not done what I had, I may have been left with the "what if?" questions.  There were none.  I had given my all to my marriage without doubt and I knew deep in my heart that I had nothing left to give.  I was not the one for Dale, and he was not the one for me.

Less then 50 days after our final talk, I broke.  We were visiting my family over winter break, just like I am on right now.  It was the middle of the night and our son woke up.  I got up to comfort him.  Dale walked in and told me that he'd take over.  Sounds like a kind, caring, and loving act.  That was the straw that broke my camel's back.  I wanted to be with my son that night.  I needed to be with him.  Dale insisted that I go back to bed.  But I didn't sleep.  That is the moment that I woke up.  For the first time in years, I was awake.  My eyes were open and I couldn't pretend anymore.

I was in an abusive relationship.  I was in an abusive relationship.  It wasn't about the depression.  It wasn't about Dale's illness.  It was about the way that Dale treated me.  The way that I had been treated for years, and I couldn't do it anymore.

The evening that I awoke was the night that Dale and I were supposed to double-date with my best friend and her husband.  Because we had dinner the night before at my sister's house, he felt that he had done his part and didn't need to take part on this double-date.  My friend's husband didn't go as a result and that left me and my best friend for 20 years to have "the dinner" of all dinners.

She came to pick me up and we drove but just a few blocks before I had to say, "I am in an abusive relationship."  She immediately broke into tears because deep down, she had suspected and feared that.  I was never willing or ready to entertain that notion, ever.  Not until then.  Not until I knew for sure and I did.  There was no turning back from that moment.

I believe that it was exactly five years ago today, February 19th, that Dale and I arrived back home in New York City after a very tense and quiet drive back from my parent's house.  When arrived home, that is when I told him that I couldn't take it anymore.  Our relationship was toxic.

Over the course of the past few years, Dale had progressively got more hostile, angry, and resentful towards me.  It seemed too energetic for it to be his depression, although I knew he still suffered.  I had always viewed him as a man, who had an illness.  I saw him first, not the illness, but the illness was always there and I knew it.  However, I didn't blame the illness for the way that Dale was treating me.   I blamed the person.  After all, he was a person.  I just didn't know how deeply he was consumed by his illness.  I didn't think it was going to be easy or pretty, but he had told me himself so many times that perhaps we didn't belong together.  It shouldn't have been so shocking and I certainly didn't think that telling him that I had enough, was going to cause him to unravel.  But it did.

Virginia: 2006

When I look back on our lives together, there were always red flags.  From the very beginning they were there.  They are easier to detect now then they were back then when I was so young and in the moment.  But despite that, deep down, I knew they were there.  However, in the beginning, there weren't many and Dale was an amazing person.  What I got in return was worth it.  What I didn't know and couldn't prepare myself for was the downward spiral that we found ourselves in.  I don't know what happened or what caused it, but a pivotal point came during our last year in Virginia.  We hit a point and snowballed down the hill until the very end.

Dale had started a new job that year.  A new job meant new people and these new people sparked Dale to share their stories of love and lust with me.  One woman had just ended a long relationship and she was taking advantage of this freedom to explore herself sexually.  Dale thought that we should do the same.  One man was openly gay.  Dale admired him for being able to just be himself.  A younger colleague had just lost her virginity.  She was dating an older man and was trying all sorts of kinky things.  Dale wanted to throw that into our mix.  Another woman had a crush on Dale.  It gave him the idea that perhaps we should let someone in and watch, during our intimate moments together.  It seemed as though everyday he came home with a new story.  They all revolved around sex and soon enough, things started to revolve around sex in our relationship as well.

This is when I began to notice the ingenuity of his actions.  He began to keep score.  He mentally tallied up the things that he did for me and what I did for him.  He, of course, far outweighed me and it started off where he would joke that I owed him something.  Then it turned into him being serious about it and it began to turn sexual as well.

I am all for people doing behind closed doors whatever it is that makes them happy... as long as what they are doing isn't hurting or negativity effecting someone else.  At this point, we had been together for nearly 9 years.  I wanted us to have a happy and healthy intimate life together.  I didn't want it to become boring and infrequent.  I didn't mind trying new things, but I did have boundaries.  My boundaries were not respected and were under constant discussion with hopes of negotiation.

This was also the time that "The Talks" began.  These talks happened about every 6 months and were about the same 3 things.  1.  Dale's depression and how I am not helping enough.  I was told that I needed to do more because I was actually causing it to worsen.  My love was questioned.  2.  Sex.  I didn't initiate it enough.  It was getting boring.  3.  Sometimes that changed, but it usually was about my lack of domestic skills.  Now, think of a convincing lawyer.  That is how Dale sounded.  He presented his issues with me in a caring and loving way.  His words were chosen so carefully that it was hard to dispute anything.  And when I did, my words were twisted and I was left feeling even worse.  I felt confused.  I felt like I was wrong.  I didn't trust myself and my own thoughts.  Those talks took a piece of my spirit away every time. It came to the point where at first I started to clam up.  It was better to not say anything than to say something and have your own words twisted in a way that you didn't even know how else to explain yourself.  Towards the end, I began to have mini anxiety attacks when I knew these talks were about to happen.  My head would feel dizzy and my heart would palpitate.  I had such a hard time breathing that I couldn't talk, even if I wanted to.  I couldn't even cry anymore.

Virginia:  2006.... the red flags started to take over.  I was so caught up in my own mental mess that I couldn't see it.  There was so much that I couldn't see.

A Long December

December of 2010 is remembered as being grey.  I don't have many memories or details of that month, only the color grey to describe it best.  Perhaps that is because it was the silent month.  It was the month that Dale ignored me, as much as he could, for a two people who were raising a child together and doing so in an 800 square foot home.  This was the month of my forgotten birthday.   The month that I was told that he loved our son so much that he didn't have any extra love for me.  The month that once it ended, I was told that he purposefully silenced our month so that I would know how it felt.  He said that was how I made him feel.  

He had my love, trust, loyalty, attention, friendship... mind, heart, and body.  He had it all, including my spirit and he had crushed it so much that there was very little left of it.  I was one step above being a zombie.  

I never thought that I could cure Dale and his illness.  I knew that wasn't possible.  I wanted to be a part of the happiness in his life though.  At one point there was a lot of laughter and fun times.  I thought that we could build on that.  I thought that if we built a strong life together filled with wonderful memories, that he could use that to help him face the dark times.  That's what I thought my role was.  That's what I wanted my gift to Dale to be.  I knew that I couldn't fight his battle for him, but I had hoped that I could add on to his supply of ammunition to keep on fighting.  

That December... it changed things.  It may have been dark and grey but it was my moment of clarity.  Dale was a master at hiding his illness.  That month, he did just that and made me believe that it was me, not his illness.   He wasn't happy with  me.  

I was never good enough which is why he was always trying to change it.  He tried to improve me to what he envisioned happiness or perfection or whatever word you want to throw in there, looked like to him.  It didn't matter what I was wearing, what color my hair was, what words I said, what actions I took... nothing was good enough.  I realized that I literally had nothing left to give.  

November 2010

Dale had a keen sense for fashion.  He worked in retail so it was part of his job, but he definitely knew what he liked both for himself and for me.  He gifted me many clothes, complete outfits, jewelry, shoes, and handbags throughout the years.  So much so that it would be fair to say that  75% of my closet was made up of clothes picked out by him.

In the beginning, it was really sweet and appreciated.  Whose boyfriend does that?   No one that I knew.  It made me feel like he paid attention to me and to little details about me.  When I met him, it was in the late 90's and I was kind of into that somewhat grungy look.  I wore really big clothes, not flattering for my petite frame, and I wouldn't call my style feminine either.

Dale was the first to initiate more form fitting/flattering clothes.  He complimented me when I wore them and showed off my body more.  He helped to make me feel more pretty and confident and I started to embrace the style of clothes that he introduced and supplied me with.  We had a lot of fun together, going shopping, for me.  He was better than going shopping with a girlfriend.  I defined my sense of fashion by what pleased him and still to this day, my choice in clothing still reminds me of him and his influence on me.

At some point,  an act that seemed to be genuine and caring at first, started to reveal more of a selfish tone.  Something happened during our last year in Virginia.  I don't know what it was and I didn't realize it until later on.  But looking back at Dale and at us, something really fundamentally wrong started to take over.

There came a point when it became apparent that these shopping sprees and gifts were not given out of pure love and the desire to make me happy and smile.  The desire was his and it was sexual.  The clothes became short and the heels became higher.  They weren't practical for me, for my lifestyle, and they made me feel very uncomfortable.  When I tried to express that, it turned to his wants and needs.  He told me that he thought that I was beautiful and sexy and that it was for him, no one else, and that's all that should matter.

What matters most is how one feels about themselves.  Hypocrite sometimes passes my mind when I do wear something that is "sexy" today.  However, I am a much different person today than I was then.   I have found myself and I am confident.  I choose what I wear.  It is not imposed upon me and it is a reflection on who I am and how I want to present myself.  

The tip of the iceberg came in November 2010, just days before Thanksgiving.   I had been coloring my hair for years, mainly blonde.  I am a natural blonde, but not a natural beach blonde, which was my usual go-to color.  Yes, that is what Dale liked best, until he wanted me to try being a brunette.  I didn't want to.  I withheld for years, yes this was conversation and request that wouldn't end.  Finally, I decided to give in.  I went to get my hair done and I thought I would surprise him when I came home with dark hair.  The reception that I got was not what I expected, at all.  Even though he knew that it was for him and him alone, I was told that it had taken me so long to do it, that he didn't even care anymore.  It was still subconscious, but I believe that it was then that I realized that nothing that I could do would ever make him happy with me.