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What I learned about love, I had to learn the hardest way possible. I learned some scary facts about it, and how toxic it can become if you let it. Not to mention how unbelievably sick it can make you. The way it works on your mind, fucking with your mentality. Causing you to catch thoughts. Negative thoughts that’ll drive you absolutely insane to the point where you begin to question your own sanity. I’ve experienced that type of love. Believe me when I tell you it was no fun when it came to an end. Oh sure, in the beginning we both thought we were each other’s soulmates. The things I put myself through for this man are unspeakable.
No. . .
Really, they’re unspeakable. . .
Why???
Because I don’t wanna speak about em. . .
I bent over backwards for this man in ways I never thought possible. I only came to the conclusion they weren’t possible when I realized how gullible I was to believe the bullshit he fed me. That’s me looking back on it from where I am now. To think I actually fell for his dim-whited tricks. The ones he used to get me to do what he wanted me to do for him. Him and his personal pleasures only.
It was beautiful to me in the beginning. I really believe he loved me in the beginning as much as I loved him. He seemed to have fallen in love with just the same as I did him. Except I fell quicker and faster, a lot faster, and a lot harder too.
After being with one another after about 3-years straight was when he met a certain man that put him right where he always wanted to be. The one place I kept him from going when he first spent the night with me.
Only days after meeting each other he surprised me by coming over. He ended up spending the night. All we did was talk all night long. I was up on nothing but giddiness, adrenaline and excitement. Excitement because I had caught the attention of this handsome man. It was love at first sight and I was doing everything I could not to be clingy. That night he told me he used meth. He didn’t put it out there as bluntly, but he still admitted his use of it every now and then. Who was I to judge? I liked popping pills and getting a good benzo buzz. I think I had used meth once or twice before we met, so I didn’t see any reason to not continue pursuing him. I just wished I knew back then, what lay ahead for me in the future, and how bad it was actually gonna get.
I don’t know why I didn’t see the signs then. It’s not like they weren’t obvious. I was blinded by my obsessive infatuation at the thought of being in love with this man. So much so he consumed me. My mind. My body. My soul. I was enraptured by his smooth demeanor, the complete confidence in how he carried himself, those charming characteristics that shined so bright I was blinded by it. It was too good to be true. Well, for me it was anyways. He got me with his public displays of affection as well. He had me at hello.
((No, I didn’t try to take that cheesy quote from that movie Jerry McGuire))
I just knew this wasn’t gonna work out for me. Nothing ever did. It was me who always got my heart broken in the end when things were all said and done. Plus, I was a single mom when we met and I didn’t think he’d want to waste his time being tied down to a chick that already had a kid that didn’t belong to him. But with him it was the complete opposite. He told me from the very start he had a little girl and told me all about his baby momma.
He’s the reason I don’t consider my stretch marks as ugly scars. But instead they were beautiful beauty marks showing I carried a life inside of me and brought life to a baby. He was wonderful with my son. I knew he was a good dad and potentially could be a good father to my son one day possibly. I already made the decision to tell my son about his heritage of what he is mixed with, and the truth of who his biological father was when he was old enough to understand. I wanted the guy I was hoping to be with, that I wasn’t looking for a replacement daddy for my son. I was fine raising him all on my own as I had since he was born. I even taught my son to call him by name. I swear every baby’s first word is dada. Almost every baby.
A few years down the road after his going back and forth between me and his baby momma he was finally all mine. Everything he bought and paid for he let her have it because she had his daughter. The home they lived in which also included the vehicle she drove. I don’t know what happened to cause her not to let him see his little girl again once we were official. When she needed him to watch their daughter like if she was sick but she had to either go to work or school, she’d call and tell me. Knowing ahead of time if he wasn’t there with me that he would be soon. That lasted all of maybe a couple of months before she pulled her completely away from her daddy.
I know I didn’t know him as well as she did, but I treated him like the king I felt he should be treated like. The treatment he wasn’t receiving from her. Although I now know why she acted some of the ways she did back then. I still stand up for him to this day when I say he didn’t deserve to have his daughter ripped away from him like she did. He was a good guy and a damn good father. What I saw and knew of him up until then anyways. I knew in my heart he wasn’t how she made him out to be. Not when it came to parenting. Not back then.
There were so many rough and troubled times we battled, fought and won against. But in the end it wasn’t meant to be that happily ever after type of love. As bad as I wanted it to be and swore I’d do anything to keep him. That I would change and be better, do better, act right and slow down with the pills. But he was also with me when the house fire happened that claimed the life of my 2-year old nephew, and 17-days later my sisters life while still in the hospital’s burn unit. A piece of me died the night of the fire. Another piece of me died when my sister died. I’ll never have those pieces of me back ever again. They’re gone forever. Time doesn’t heal all wounds. It can make them easier to cope with, and talk about over a period of time though.
I personally think that night was the beginning of the end for us. It changed me into this type of person that didn’t give a fuck about anything consisting of, or concerning anything life related. No I never attempted suicide. That doesn’t mean I never thought about it though. After my daughter was born, the bet I had with drugs was off and they were all up for grabs. I became this feel good junkie that would do anything to catch a buzz. As long as I didn’t feel that great sense of grief, over losing the only person I was ever closest to in the entire world, in my entire life. She knew me inside and out, backwards and forwards, upside down and right side up, sideways and everywhere in between. It was only she and I growing up. Two sisters against the world.
I can’t put all the blame on him because I am equally as guilty in my own ways. Even though some of them, okay, most of them, weren’t as cold, violent or scary as his were. His actions caused my reactions. When he started selling dope, was when it broke, shattering everything we tried so hard to keep from falling apart. Even super glue wouldn’t work this time around. I don’t know how it was so easy for him to let me go and move on. If it were that easy for him to move on, did he ever really love me as much as he claimed?
I know when reality sunk in for me that he was with another chick, laying in her bed, making love to her and I had lost him completely knowing we would never be us again. I felt as though I couldn’t breathe without him beside me whispering instructions to me how. Inhaling a breath, and exhaling a breath.
I know most of you remember that WWJD (what would Jesus do) quote that was a huge fad back in the day. And was printed on bracelets and tee shirts that everybody wore everywhere. Well, I was so fucked in the head over losing him I used to say ‘what would ‘B’ do’ instead. When I needed to be strong I’d say that stupid shit to myself to get me through whatever it was I needed to get through that I considered to be hard enough I couldn’t do it without his support right there by my side. Except, he wasn’t with me anymore, so I’d ask myself that. Knowing that he’d be strong, having faith in himself, as well as me, that I could see myself through those tough times. I was strong enough and I had learned enough while we were together is what I’d hear him repeatedly tell me over and over again. Probably because he really used to tell me that. It always helped me though I swear. If I was suffering withdrawals I’d be like WWBD? Before I knew it I’d find myself doing something to occupy my mind taking all thoughts off the withdrawals I was going through until they were gone.
When I noticed I had actually done whatever it may have been, on my own thinking how proud he’d be of me after I succeeded. Was what got me through some of the most trying and outright fucking hardest times of my life.
Now here I am more than 10-12 years later and I’m on top of the world. Having become more confident in myself than I think I ever have been before. The man I married loves me unconditionally and only wants the best life has to offer for me and my kids which are obviously his kids too. And we are also the proudest grandparents of my daughter’s first child. He’s the one man that has remained constant in my son’s life teaching him respect, love, loyalty and to always be as honest as he can, especially if he got in trouble. Now they are so much alike I can’t catch a break from one, without having to be around the other.
The entire 3 1/2 years I was incarcerated he made sure I had at least 3 letters a week, money for phone time so I could call home. And money on my account so I could buy food and hygiene products whenever I needed them. He remained by my side giving me chance after chance hoping I’d catch on because he loves me so much. I made sure he wouldn’t be disappointed when I got released. That I wasn’t gonna go back to being the old Tina as soon as I got home like I had done every single time in the past. We are still together, and I have my head sitting on these shoulders of mine straight for once in my life.
He saved me from myself.
For that alone, I’ll forever be grateful.
This is what true love is all about. Not giving up on someone you love unconditionally.
Forever grateful and most thankfully humble.
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