I have parkinson’s disease. Big words, scary and forever.
Words are powerful. Positive, negative, unspoken, written… The funny thing about them is that they are also sometimes empty.
This time last year, I posted on Facebook. Surprise. Not. But it was a milestone in my life. It was the beginning of a beautiful, horrible, ecstatic, depressing, loving period in my life. Then it ended.
In the beginning, I was so focused on being honest and forthright that I made a list. The list was of expectations, wants, needs dreams, nightmares. Poor guy. I must have scared the shit out of him. But, the man took the challenge, ME, albeit briefly. I thank him for that… I had one helluva ride!!!!
Then for the “first 47” as I like to call them, we were perfect. As perfect as two people with a horrible disease can be upon meeting. I think we spent more time IN bed than out. But, it was great, memorable, beautiful, loving, romantic, all that crap.
Then, my addiction crept in. I wanted and needed him more than anything I had ever known, damn, I quit SMOKING for him…And then I went back.
The next section, the airport jail, the lack of forgiveness, I already covered in another blog, so I won’t repeat myself… It wasn’t great. It was still good enough that I would have stayed, I would have settled in, except for the money. You see I honestly and truthfully can’t save it. It’s not in my DNA. Somehow in the fusing process I got all birth father and no mom on that one. He took this as a character defect, which I suppose you can look at it like that as well as what it is…
I was enslaved for 11 years of my life. Not literally, as in chains and such, but my abuser took all of my earnings from me… literally. He took it to pay bills when he felt like it, he took it to vacation when it suited him, he even took entire paychecks of mine and gambled them away at casinos. I worked, 40 to 60 hours a week for 90 percent of those 11 years and I have nothing. The poor Englishman didn’t have a chance when he tried to help me… I was beaten, stolen from, cheated on and emotionally tortured… I’m truly sorry M. I am.
Anyway, now I am single. My daughters were not pleased when I posted a picture of him and me. They wanted an explanation, well here it is… he loved me the best he could, he tried to help me. Had I gone to counseling BEFORE our relationship began, maybe I would still be with him. Maybe I would have told him this before he got frustrated enough to dump me… Maybe I would NOT have freaked out at his attempts to teach me…Maybe… MAYBE, now that I have had this realization, I can learn how to manage what I have. Maybe, I won’t miss laying my head on his shoulder at night?
Maybe I’ll finally be satisfied and satisfactorily single…