Psycho Ex

One of the things he told me when he left me, "You were a good catch...." That phrase still rings and echoes in my mind, a steel trap, unrelenting. Bound and molded by a fear of ever facing that phrase again from yet another man. What made me not a good catch anymore? And then the rumors reach my ears...the things he tells his new-found friends and new found lover, the lover he'd worked with two years.

Looking back, I probably was a bit 'psycho.' I probably am still kind of, somewhat psycho. I know for sure now that I was and still am fighting depression. And here's the thing, I had a husband yet I felt completely and utterly alone. I re-read some of my journal entries the other night and realized I was in a dark, angry, bitter place. I was mad at God. I was mad at Dallace. I was mad at not being able to have more kids. I was drowning in self-loathing. I was just viciously, ferociously mad. I felt abandoned. 

And in my entries, I wrote about the distance I felt between he and I. I felt like he just wanted all my "issues" to just go away. That I was broken. And just like many broken, and unfixed trucks he had in his mom's backyard (the ones he just couldn't fix or "solve")...he gave up and left me out to rot and rust. He couldn't afford me emotionally. I had become without his mental means. If I refused to fix myself, he refused also. And while that fact leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, I can't blame him for jumping ship. There were times I wanted to jump ship. I tried to end my life a couple times and failed. There were nights I felt like I could just run away. Just jump into my car and drive and never stop driving until I reached the edge of the world and fell off. 

They'll giggle over dinner or over a six pack of beer how psycho I was or am. And repeat all the angry, foolish, crazy things I said once upon a time. But I make sure to remember the good with the bad. After Dallace's death, my parents went back to Germany and I honestly felt like I could lie down and die. The first night they were gone, I remember sleeping in his parent's house. All night long, I trembled, tossed, turned, cried, howled, gnashed my teeth and wept. And all night, he stayed by my side, awake and soothing. Crying with me. Those moments of compassion in the midst of my long road on Depression Lane made the difference and it's why I'm still alive. 

For years I had focused on so many bad things. For years, I learned to resent everyone around me because of the guilt I felt from my own actions. I took it out on everyone close to me. I'm only sorry he had to be one of those people. Some things you can endure. Some things you just can't. I pray he has some good memories.