And I swear to God that I care a lot Or I used to, so I make due

It’s become apparent I used to be really good at online journaling but now I’ve found other places to jot down my feelings. Like corners of my mail and the back of my grocery list. When did that happen? Maybe it was when my ex husband and I began keeping a physical joint journal? Looking back… It feels like that journal was just another manipulation, a way to “innocently” abuse me. It made me question everything. He always was the strong silent type. A creative depressive sort… Musical genius. There are MANY ways that I could describe him, but that journal exposed something he kept locked away. I was so young and naive. I didn’t see that he was secretive and vicious. Everytime he wrote songs that were hurtful or exploded with demeaning things to say… It was just “creative expression” or he was “having a bad day.” I loved him despite it all and desperately wanted it to work. Those journal entries revealed how he really felt and it destroyed me to read them. Often I would retaliate but writing things in anger that simply weren’t true. I just didn’t want to hurt alone. It didn’t work. He never wrote back in anger. He always wrote the most calculated and controlled spiteful words. He never said anything unless he thought he would make his mark.

Each time he cheated it really was a new betrayal. He always had an excuse. It was always my fault. I always fell short somewhere. I tried so hard to change, improve the things he asked me to. It was never enough, there was always something else. It makes me sad that I so easily believed it was all my fault. I lost myself and life became an endless mission to shape myself into a person worthy of the love he seemed to have for everyone but me.

I often called my parents for support. To be fair by this point my dad was very close to the end of his life. His suicide would run concurrent with the loss of everything else in my life at the time. My father would end his life on August 5th 2010, the 12 year mark only recently passed. My marriage would be terminated in September of the same year.

I fall apart around this time every year. I become manic and don’t feel like myself. I isolate and wallow in my pain until I’m done and then life continues. I know years ago it was a dramatic and noticeable shift but I think it’s much more subtle now. No one seems to notice the change I feel so heavily. The late night drives just to be alone. The shots of whiskey in my coffee or the internal temptation to self destruct. Their lives don’t change… I continue to serve my purpose in their lives and keep it all locked away so they aren’t inconvenienced. There’s been a small dip in my work performance this year but I usually perform at such a high level that it isn’t enough to be any lower than any one else. I’m sure that the higher ups are taking into account all of extra projects I recently took up and chalking it up to being overwhelmed or maybe even a learning curve.

I was supposed to go back home this month but I told everyone it would be impossible because of all of the extra work I am doing right now. Truthfully, I was just too afraid to go so close to the anniversary.

I totally got distracted from the point of calling my parents when I was in such a hopeless marriage. My dad would often rage on my behalf for all the wrongs he felt my husband was doing against me. He would tell me to come back home and call my husband names. I would never have gone but it made me feel better sometimes. Just to know that SOMEBODY was on my side and recognized my pain. I kept it so well hidden that when we initially separated everyone in our lives was taken by surprise. Of course it all became more clear when he started parading around the woman he would marry just a month after it was officially over between us.

By that point the only people I had daily contact with were his family and friends so they were all too willing to accept that I was crazy and side with him. I was so isolated by then. We moved out to the country where I knew no one. He quickly started sleeping with the only friend I had there. She would become his wife shortly after. None of them had any real compassion for what I was going through. To be fair to them, they had no idea the extent of what had actually happened.

My mother on the other hand was never supportive. She would make me feel like he was right and I was wrong. That I really wasn’t good enough. She make me feel panic about the idea of what was going to happen to me if I left. That I needed to try to make it work at all cost because if I left I would have nothing and I would not be strong enough to rebuild. She always painted me in the corner of being helpless and needing a man to support me. Often times when I tried to take control of my life she would so carefully suggest that all of my energy need to be focused on fixing my marriage. ” Hollie, why would you put yourself through the hardship of college, all you’ll ever amount to is a trophy wife anyway.” “You’re a teenage mom, no other man will want that responsibility, he’s already shown you he is the right man for you.” ” If you fuck this up, I will not support you or your kids.” ” He’s always loved you but you’re too cold to reciprocate.” “You’re too delicate for this world, let him protect your from it” You’re too fragile to keep digging, what you don’t know won’t hurt your.” ” Don’t break your own heart looking for proof of his betrayal.” “It’s better to be happy and ignorant than end up alone.”

Ultimately nothing I did could fix that he really didn’t love me. It didn’t matter that I truly loved him. Even now I miss him and feel like I’ll never feel that sort of love again… I haven’t in 12 years. He continues to hate me for reasons I don’t truly understand. If he really thinks I am crazy I would imagine he would feel pity or some sort of fear? But he hates me for being “crazy.” The rationale part of me thinks he hates me because I took control of my own life at the end. When he couldn’t manipulate me anymore. He manipulated everyone else to treat me with the same disregard he did.

At first no one batted an eye when he started the custody battle. I was weak and not prepared for the force of his legal team. What they did was nothing short of bullying and I just couldn’t fight back then. Just the sight of his face would cause me to go in hysterics. There was not one day in court where he didn’t look cool, calm and collected. While I had a constant steam of tears and looked emotionally unstable. It was when the custody battle ended and I got the bare minimum of rights. I could see them under supervision of only the people he agreed to. After an extensive psychiatric evaluation I would have the right to have them alone but not a day before. Clearly I was never going to be deemed as stable while I was in such turmoil. It didn’t help that while we separated it meant little. We were still sleeping together. He left me in a constant state of confusion saying thing like he might have made a mistake or that he missed me. After it was over he would go back to her. I just lost the status of wife and became the mistress. Then he took them away… He disappeared and only then did anyone think the kids should be with me. It was too late by then.

Our kids don’t even know me. The younger one was only 6 months when we officially separated. She doesn’t even know that this wife isn’t her mom. My son has been told that I threatened to kill his little sister. As unstable as I was back then… That just isn’t true. I would never have harmed them. It was much more likely that I would have ended my own life. Secretly I think that’s what he was hoping for and he punished by taking them when I didn’t.

He did eventually come back but it had been years by then. I am too afraid to fight him now. My kids don’t deserve for their life to be turned upside down. I leave it alone because I want their life to be happy and it won’t be if I make a move. He will retaliate and things will be worse. We cannot co-parent. I would love to be able to but history shows he will never allow that. I am still not strong enough to unleash the emotional hazard that he is to me. Recently they left again… I have tried to keep tabs over the year, but they move around like gypsies. Each time I lost track of where they are it feels like square one all over again.

It’s not all bad. While I never have loved anyone else like that again, I think it’s more because I could never give up that level of control. Since it all ended I have spent every year of my life fighting for control of my life and rebuilding my life. I have two other children. My oldest who is now 18. She’s wild and untamed and the part of me that isn’t constantly going head to head with her, loves that. My son just turned 6 and he is the biggest joy in my life. He represents redemption and I know I could not fail him. He is my whole world.

I have a stable and good career. I am happy with where I am and I know if i keep on the track I am, I will climb the ladder when I am ready.

My love life is still a mess. I am working on it, but maybe I am just not ready. Some days I hope that things will fall into place and my future husband will be everything that my last husband was not. I envision how much the small things will mean. To just have someone who is supportive and attentive would change so much. I know I have the love to give but I am so afraid of giving it to the wrong. Afraid I won’t live through it twice. My ideas about monogamy have been seriously damaged. I can’t see that one person could meet anyone elses needs, including myself. When I picture perfection it’s with multiple partners. Although some part of me hopes someone will prove me wrong.

The foundation is down… I hope in time the full picture will be there. Maybe it’ll form a clear reason as to why I had too travel the road I did. It will lead me straight to the peace I’ve sought all my life.

Well it hasn’t rained here in months and as this entry comes to a close, it’s raining. Poetic isn’t it?

XO