I Finally Drew the Line.

I haven’t written as much lately.  A few things have happened recently.  Again, I apologize for any grammar mistakes.  I am trying to get all my thoughts out as quickly as possible.  My VW Beetle was on its last legs.  There was so much wrong with it.  It was seriously about to break down, I’m sure of it.  I’ve had that car 15 years, so I knew it was time to upgrade.  I did a little research online, and I found a 2022 Ford Mustang.  I fell in love with it.  So, I drove my little beetle an hour to go get it.  My brother went with me.  Thank god he did, because my beetle kept trying to die on the way there.  We were both like, “Please, just last one more hour!  Come on!  You’ve got this, little beetle!”  LOL.  We did finally get it there and I was able to buy my mustang.  I fucking love it.  It’s a dark, cherry red, chrome rims, black spoiler on the back, cold air intake.  Fucking fast, loud.  Yeah, I’ve got a car payment now, but oh fucking well.

That’s another thing.  Because I have a car payment, I KNEW there is no fucking way I could keep giving my ex-shit-donut money.  I’m fucking tired of it.  I’m tired of all the excuses.  So a couple weeks ago, I sent him one more payment because it was his rent payment.  When he messaged me, I was very short with him.  I know he could tell I was distant and very unhappy about it.  I was still trying to decide if I should just change my phone number and ghost him, or give him a warning so he could at least try to figure out something.  I kept going back and forth trying to figure out how I was going to go about it, because I knew if I warned him, it would cause a big fight and a sob story, and I didn’t want to hear any of it.  But last week, right before I left work, he texted me and asked if I would call him after work.   I knew EXACTLY what he was going to say.  I knew he was going to try to give me some sob story about why he still didn’t have a job and how I should feel sorry for him.  I knew this.  So on my way home I texted my brother to see if he was still awake and that I needed his help, or at least moral support.

When I got home, I was still debating on whether I should just change my number (I just got my new sim card in the mail that day) or if I should go ahead and call him and tell him I couldn’t do it anymore.  I decided to be a semi-decent human being and go ahead and tell him.  Even though he probably doesn’t deserve it, he could at least have a week to figure out something.  So, with my brother standing next to me in the kitchen I called the mother-fucker.

He was trying to chat at first, and I knew if I let him keep doing that, I was going to feel kind of sorry for him, so I knew I had to keep it short.  I was just like, “Did you need something?”  He was like, “Well, I just wanted to talk to someone.  You know, I’ve been getting a lot of headaches lately, so the job search isn’t going so well.  I just don’t feel good lately.”  BINGO.  There it fucking is.  The excuses.  Sometimes I hate being right.  He was like, “And I know you probably don’t want to send any more money, and you’re probably thinking about changing your phone number or something.”  Which… creepy.  WTF?   Not sure how he knew that.  It creeps me out a little.

He kept trying to go on with his sob story and I stopped him.  I was like, “You’re right.  I can’t send you anymore money.  I just can’t.”  He was like, “I don’t understand.”  And I was like, “How can you not?  I’ve had lots of time to go over so many things in my mind.  So many things you said and did and it’s just… the fucking audacity you had to treat someone like shit that was keeping you from being homeless…”  And he was like, “I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT.  You always try to start an argument!”  (Not true, actually.  I would always call him out on something hurtful or selfish he said – in a calm manner- and he would then start lashing out for having someone try to hold him accountable for his shitty behavior and then HE would start the argument by saying I was starting an argument).  I hate arguing.  There’s no reason why I would ever try to start one.

He then started yelling and I put him on speaker phone so my brother could hear him.  He started saying, “I WAS A GOOD BOYFRIEND.  I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING THAT YOU’RE CLAIMING I DID.  I KNOW YOU SAID I’M MEAN…” And I cut him off and said, “Yes.  You are.”  And he kept yelling, “NO, I’M NOT.  I KNOW I’M A GOOD PERSON.  I DID EVERYTHING I COULD FOR YOU…”  I said, “Well, you didn’t do a very good job.”  He kept on, “YES I DID.  I WAS GOOD TO YOU.  I WAS NEVER MEAN….” And something snapped.  I was no longer calm.  I fucking lost it.  I started screaming.  “NO.  YOU ARE A BAD PERSON.  AND IF YOU TRULY, HONESTLY BELIEVE DEEP DOWN THAT YOU WERE GOOD TO ME, THEN YOU NEED TO DO SOME SERIOUS SELF-REFLECTION AND THERAPY.  I’M DONE!  I’M FUCKING DONE!!!!  And usually he’ll try to talk over me no matter what I say, but this time he literally went silent, and I thought he hung up on me, but I saw he was still on the line and I said, “This is a courtesy.  This is a courtesy right here.  I didn’t have to do this, but I’m telling you right now, I’m not sending you anymore money.  And yes.  I am changing my phone number.”  And then he hung up after that.  I then turned off my phone, and my brother helped me change the sim card and then number.  My brother said he had been about to start shouting at douche, but I had beat him to it.  He said, “That was the best fucking thing I’ve seen in my entire life.  Very impressive.”  I was still shaking a couple hours after the confrontation.  I fucking hate doing that shit, but I guess it needed to be done.

I was trying to wait and see if he would find a job or something.  He had something on his record from years ago that could make it hard to find a job, but there’s people at my work that have the exact same thing, and they’ve been working here for years.  I even talked to other people about it, and my friend Trent said, “He could have figured something out by now.  It’s been 8 months.  It might be harder for him to find a job, but not impossible.  He could bag fucking groceries.  Anything.  He just doesn’t want to.  He knows you’ll keep helping him.  It’s time to fucking sink or swim.  You’ve done WAY more than you should have, so don’t feel guilty about anything.”  So yeah, I finally drew the line.

This year has been a fucking roller coaster, man.  But a year ago, I was in a really bad place.  Super depressed, sick, fatter, I looked bad, felt bad.  I never did anything fun.  I didn’t get to spend time with friends.  Didn’t get to do anything or buy anything I wanted.  A year later, I’m down 20 pounds.  I dyed my hair blue.  My skin is better, better make-up, better clothes.  I got 2 awesome tattoos.  Got a new fucking car.  I’ve got to hang out with friends, went to a concert.  Had sex with a guy I had a crush on for years.  I made out with my hot tattoo artist.  I’ve got much more planned as well.

My main focus now is building my finances back up after he fucking destroyed them, and getting healthier, and losing the rest of this weight.  This is the last thing I think that will really help with my self-esteem.  It just seems like the hardest thing.  Sometimes I can get in the mind-set to lose weight, and other times it feels like I can’t control myself and I just want to eat everything in sight.  How do I get back in that mindset?  I’m tired of feeling fat and wanting to look better in clothes and feel hotter.  I had got down to 148 pounds right before I met that douche-bag, and he fucked it up.  Yes, I’m blaming him.  (I know it’s my fault too).  But he made me sick and depressed, and it took a toll on my body and mind.  So, I’ve got to figure something out.  I am tired of trying to figure out how to do this.  I’m tired of thinking of food and weight.  I just wish I could snap my fingers and be skinny again, and not have to think about it ever again.