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What have you learned in your life about love?

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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.

 

 

About Post Author

BooBoo

I'd rather read a good book, VS watching the movie made from it on TV. Most thoughts on that are 'why'. Well, my answer for that is that there aren't any limitations to your imagination. Therefore, when I'm reading an action packed thriller that I can't put down or stop turning the pages of is because the details are written by the author describing the scene/situation with such clarity, that I think it's far better than what anyone can visibly see on TV. That being my opinion only, I'm sure millions and billions of avid readers out there agree with me 100% on that reason alone. I've always had an active imagination growing up. I'd use the almost empty cans of shaving cream my dad would give me, as the whipped cream on top of the mud pies I made.Of course dad got the first one. After all, he did give me the topping. I was very versatile also. I was the biggest tom boy of a little girl you'd ever see one day. To dividing Barbie clothes between me and my older sister (when I was lucky enough to get her to play with me). I had to play by her rules though. Perks of being the older sibling I guess. I loved playing with the Hot Wheel's cars in the dirt. Making race tracks and underground tunnels I'd dig out for them. Sometimes my dad would be outside with me showing me all kinds of different things I could pretend to do when playing cars. I have one day in particular that stands out among the rest. It was when I learned to do the underground tunnels for the cars to go through. He showed me by taking a simple stick off the ground and using it like a tool to push the dirt out from one side to the other. It wasn't a tunnel without keeping the top part intact. I acted like there was a cave-in, and then accidents, crashing the cars together. No one ever got hurt in my imagination though, just the cars got hurt. Growing up with a sister 6-years older than me taught me lots of things, both good and bad. If I kept her secrets, she kept mine. And the only reason I even had any secrets was because she allowed me to. I got to sneak and smoke in her bedroom at night after our parents went to bed. I had to be very quiet because I got caught most of the time. But I was always caught by our momma. And then all she made me do was get back in bed. I came from a poor family so anything name brand wasn't known to me for a long time. I was bullied and made fun of all throughout my school years. It doesn't matter which year you pick. From the 1st grade, all the way through high school. I know that's terrible to have to admit, but I think it'd be even worse having to admit to being the bully. I swore to myself I'd never treat anyone the way those kids treated me and made me feel. It bothered me so bad I'd dream about standing up for, and actually fighting over other kids getting bullied. I woke up all of a sudden one morning after punching the lights out of a bully in my dream. When I really punched the headboard and made my knuckles bleed. Come on! When a child is taking on the burden of other bullied kids, you know that's a heavy burden to bear. It was also very hard on me. I never talked about it to my parents though. Yeah, they knew. But back then no one really knew what to do about that problem like they do now. Or, well, think they do. I've been in counseling since starting school. I can't remember a day going by without me seeing the school guidance counselor. Shout out to Mrs. Reeves though, at Lone Oak High School. She made the biggest impression on me as far as wanting to help other kids like me. The bullies were actually the kids who came from well-to-do families. Kids who never knew what it was like to experience the disappointment of being told 'No'. Or that there wasn't enough money to buy what they wanted. Kids that figured there wasn't anything better to do except make fun of the less fortunate to get them through their day or to have a conversation piece. The anger and hatred that built up inside of me was, and still is undescribable. The thoughts they caused me to have. Picturing the tables being turned and the bad things said back to them, bad things being done back to them. It only made me feel better on the inside. I've been asked by numerous doctors in my life if I'm suicidal. I've answered no, being completely honest each time. But never have they asked if I've felt homicidal! I know, scary right? The outcome of such thoughts is what triggered the start of mass school shootings. Coming into adulthood was strange territory for me as well, and actually caused me a lot of uncomfortable times, knowing things I knew I could now do but never felt comfortable ever talking about. Even with my sister, the person I was closest to, I couldn't open up and freely talk about anything of the sexual nature. I guess because bad things have happened to me on more than one occasion when I was still very much an innocent child. With me hiding such horrid things from my parents, along with everyone else, I felt I couldn't talk about the good kind of sex either. Man did that ever set me back, keeping me immature of certain things I should've known already but didn't. Because in my mind I was still that child who was hurt in a bad way. They were called 'Red Touches' back then. What we were taught to call them in school anyways. Then just when I was becoming independent and living on my own, learning to stand up for myself in a way that would make my sister proud of me, I lost her. That caused me to go into a deep depression I didn't come out of for many years afterwards. March 29, 2003 changed my life forever. I lost my 2-year old nephew that night to a raging house fire. My sister passed 17 days later in the burn unit in Vanderbilt, Tennessee. However, if you've read 'My Story', a post on my blog. Then you'll know that in order for me to know what I now know, and to be the person that I now am, all of the bad shit had to happen first or else I wouldn't have caught and held onto the message so vital for me to have acquired in my life. Helping the less fortunate. Being someone's somebody they can depend on being there when they need them the most. After receiving confirmation that my nephew didn't suffer, not for one second in that house fire... Was I able to let that burden go, only to let in that oxygen, that life support I desperately needed to save myself from a lifetime of misery. Even though I know my sister, Jennifer, isn't physically here to cheer and root me on. I know without a shadow of a doubt, her and Lil Jesse (my nephew) are both doing so from Heaven today, and everyday that follows. If you're suffering from addiction of any kind and you want or need someone to talk to I'm a damn good listener! My contact information is listed on my contact page. Please call, reach out for support. You're not alone no matter what negative thoughts are telling you that you are. God is always there for you as well. If you'd like to learn more about Jesus and how He died to save us, don't hesitate to ask. I'll share what I know is all good, and positive about God. Whom I choose to call my higher power. If you don't believe in God, then the subject will not be pushed. EVER! If you're battling mental health issues and feel alone like no one knows what you feel like. Then I'm here to tell you there's billions of people out there that will share with you that they too, feel just like you do. Hit me up on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter. All of my accounts should be connected to my website. If you're waiting on me to respond and it's been a while since you tried getting in touch with me, then by all means be more persistent and bug the shit out of me. Make me see your messages. I will eventually and I'll always reply when I can. This is the best I think I've written in this 'about me' section. It's the most I've opened up publicly I know that. I'm open minded, I keep it 100 all of the time, even if it's something I don't like myself, or for others, I still have to keep it 100 with myself in order for me to keep it that way with everyone else. I hope this told everyone a little bit about me, maybe more than I originally intended. But it's all accurate and up to date with where I'm at in my life right now. Thank you all and God Bless
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