The Year After
A year ago, my earth as I knew it completely shattered.
My fiance and I walked into our bedroom to get ready for bed after putting 150 wedding invitations in the mail and he sits down as I change. I take my top off do a little playful sexy dance and ask him to join me in the shower when I look at his face and notice that something was completely wrong. I immediately grab the nearest sweater and sit across from him — I knew something was going on with work and he had been sleeping all day, so I figured he had a rough night the night before. My stomach fell to the ground when I heard the words I thought I would never hear him say
I can’t do this anymore. I can’t get married.
Our wedding was about 3 1/2 months away and we just sent out all of our invitations. I brush it off to cold feet and beg for him to talk about it. After hours of tears and talking it out he hit me with another bomb.
I’m in love with someone else.
I knew it.
When I look at you, I feel nothing.
The last 9 years of my life flashed before my eyes. Everything we had been through together, every accomplishment we celebrated. Every laugh, every tear. It all came rushing to me. What is he doing, what have I done.
I don’t remember the next 4 days very well and on day 5, I start bleeding. I rush to the ER, there’s a lot of blood. I haven’t eaten in 5 days. I am extremely dehydrated. My best friend is by my side.
This is normal miscarriage. I’m so sorry for your loss — it’ll subside in a few days.
I was pregnant.
A full 7 days goes by. I’m sleeping in the guest room at my parents house. My little brother is force feeding me Portuguese bean soup while I quietly explain my failed relationship to my dad.
You need to eat.
My best friends are sitting on the couch in the other room figuring out how to get my things without killing him.
Where am I?
I slept in my car for a couple nights. Not wanting to tell my family and friends that he wouldn’t leave our shared home because it was closer to his job than mine and I had taken an extended leave of absence in my trauma.
The last 9 years of my life flashed before my eyes. Everything we had been through together, every argument we had. Every raised voice, every tear.
I ask him to go. It’s been 2 weeks and I want my home. I want my dog, my cat, my shower. I wan’t to not live out of a suitcase. I want my life back.
You’ll be okay. This will be okay. Your brother is going to come stay with you until we think you’re fine. You’re a ghost right now. We don’t know who you are right now.
I don’t know who I am right now. I quit my job.
The last 9 years of my life flashed before my eyes. Everything we had been through together, every time he cheated on me. Every time he told me I wasn’t good enough. Every time he threatened me. Every tear.
4 Months Later
I’m drinking a lot. I’ve lost an incredible amount of weight, but not in the good way. I have this toxic friend who ditches me at parties, but is fun to drink with. I died my hair blonde. I’m not a blonde. My hair is long and beautiful and curly and now it’s blonde.
I was numb to just about anything. Tequila didn’t make drunk, just dizzy. I lost the love of my life and a baby. Nothing could get worse.
I spent my life savings.
7 Months Later
I was healthier. I started to go to the gym a lot. Stopped drinking as much and was moving into my own place, without him. Without any history. As I looked back I understood just what abuse was and how I had succumb to it. The abuse was all I knew.
The last 9 years of my life flashed before my eyes. Everything we had been through together, every violent episode. Every thrown dish, every slammed door.
10 Months Later
I spent the next 5 weeks traveling. Finding myself. I know who I am confidently. I know what I want out of life. I know where I need to be and what I need to be doing. I’m back to my healthy weight and in therapy twice a week. I have built up my self-esteem to what it should be and got a job that I love, that I’m good at.
I have new, healthy friends and my group of OG friends who moved my things, they are still there for me every step of the way. I’ve deleted his socials, try my damndest to not think about him or the 9 years of a tangled mess we called a relationship.
I cut off all of my hair to fulfill my manic pixie dream girl daydream that I’ve had since I was 12. I still have my dog and my cat and my new place is now a home that I share with my cousin and her cat. I’ve added 7 new tattoos to my body collection making well over 20 and 3 new piercings, making a solid 15.
I’ve found little rituals that make me happy.
Like sitting on the porch drinking coffee watching the kids in the neighborhood walk to school and laugh with their friends.
There’s a little old man that walks his dog at 7am, the same time I walk mine and we talk about his wife while I hold the leash in one hand and my cup of coffee in the other. His name is Joe.
The last year of my life flashed before my eyes. Everything I had built for myself, every smile, every flight, every adventurous day or glamorous night. It’s my perfect life.
I rebuilt my earth.