Sometime Around Midnight

I don’t know what has possessed me to take a trip down memory lane, but here I am. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation making me wallow in regrets or that I’ve been off my meds for months. It started out that I was just looking for a specific post on version 1.0 cause for some reason I was thinking about it. Then I spent a week and a half reading the whole thing. It made me miss blogging, that’s why there is now 2.0. But from there it took on a life of its own. I found myself plundering through years of emails. And I can’t stop crying now.

To understand where I am now, we have to go back to the end of version 1.0.

When I ended it, it was to move to Illinois, to have a relationship with The Sadist. And we did. I moved to Illinois in June ’09. He deployed in May ’10 and was gone for a year. About halfway through the deployment he told me he wanted to get married. So, when he got back in May ’11 we got married. On May 27th. Looking back, I wish we would have waited and saved up for a church wedding. Turns out I really did want the giant cupcake dress. But time was of the essence so instead, we went to the courthouse. See, while he was deployed he got active duty health insurance and it lasted for 6 full months when he got back. At this point, I had been unmedicated for 2 years and boy was that evident while he was gone. I read some of the emails we sent each other that year last night. And I cried. Mine were filled with freakouts and meltdowns. Throughout it all, he was steadfast.

So, we got married and I got health insurance. There were no psychiatrists in our town that took TRICARE. So, I had to go to go to a larger town for one. The doctor I saw diagnosed me with bipolar 1. I had documentation that I had been diagnosed with ADHD as a child and she told me that most ADHD children grow up to develop bipolar disorder. I don’t know if I ever mentioned on v1.0 that as a child I suspected I was bipolar. It was nice to get that vindication. I was popped back on the medication train and things were good. I was happy. For awhile.

2012 rolled around and The Sadist dropped a bomb on me. If you remember from v1.0 I talked briefly about polyamory, mainly as it pertained to Drummerboy. Well, I was getting polybombed again. I had known from our first date that The Sadist was poly. But I had told him I couldn’t date a poly person and he told me I was more important to him than poly. I thought that was the end of it yet four years later he tells me he needs poly in his life to be happy. Understandably, I panicked. Was I getting divorced after only a year of marriage? Cause I hadn’t changed my stance. When I finished panicking, we talked about it. He told me he wanted a triad. Unlike with Drummerboy, I agreed to entertain the idea. He told me he wouldn’t look for someone else until I was ready. I really did try. I read books and blogs about poly. The more I learned, the worse my anxiety got. After a few months, I broke down in his lap sobbing that I just could not share him and just the mere thought of doing so was actively harming me. So we put the poly thing on a shelf.

In August 2012, our cat crossed the Rainbow Bridge. I was devastated. I had pulled that cat through many close calls while The Sadist was gone and we bonded. But cancer doesn’t discriminate. He was 16. By October, we had a new kitten. I couldn’t handle the silence. But I didn’t talk to him before I just went and got her. I just told him I was going out with our friend whose mother-in-law had the kitten and I came home with this little black and white fluffball. I still have her, by the way. She’s 9 now. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I didn’t realize it then but she was the first erosion of our love.

In 2013, the three of us moved to a bigger apartment. It was a two bedroom whereas the place we were moving from was a very small 1 bedroom. My mental state deteriorated between 2012-2014. Somewhere in there I did my second stint on the psych ward. I went to therapy religiously but when TRICARE ran out, we couldn’t afford my medication. So I was unmedicated those three years. That was the next erosion. I started pushing him away and turning down sex. I liked sex with him, but I always felt gross afterward. And that affected me badly. I couldn’t reconcile a tool that had been used in violence against me made me feel good in the moment. We started fighting a lot more than we ever had before. Every little thing was grounds for a screaming match to me. The more I ranted, the more he withdrew. I wish I could have told him how wounded I was. But my pride wouldn’t let me. I refused to give him any kind of ammunition against me. If only I hadn’t been so stupid. This man loved me, but I wouldn’t let him get close to me. I knew I would surely die if my heart got broken again. What I didn’t realize then was I was breaking my own heart by not tearing down the walls I had erected to protect it.

In October 2013, we acquired another cat. This one was all black. I had always wanted a solid black cat for as long as I could remember and when I found out our neighbors were moving and couldn’t take their black cat with them, I marched over there and got him. I knew black cats were the least likely to get adopted at shelters and I didn’t want the little guy to sit in a cage for months on end for who knew how long. But just like with girl kitty, I didn’t talk to him about it, I just did. That was a pretty big erosion.

Things just went from bad to worse. I was still turning down sex two out of every three times. Only this time it wasn’t my fault. In 2014, the ACA passed and we were able to get insurance. I got back on medication but it killed the tremulous desire I might have had. The next two years we basically lived like roommates who slept in the same bed. He had taken to working nights. He said it was just because he liked working nights but I wonder if it was so he could avoid me. After all, I couldn’t get mad at him for working. But he started working double shifts every weekend. He said he did it because we needed the money and his work was short staffed.

In 2015, I discovered that he may have been monogamous to the letter, but not the spirit. I walked up behind him when he was on his computer and saw him chatting with a girl I didn’t know. He had never even mentioned he met a new friend. I still knew his Fetlife password, so one night while he was at work I broke into his account. I read the messages between them. I read her profile. She knew all about me, but I knew nothing about her. I was sad after I read it. I had a choice to make. Give him what he wanted and stay together or implode my marriage. I sat on what I knew for weeks trying to decide what to do. When I was ready, I confronted him.

“Do you love her?” I asked.At first he played dumb. But then I told him I knew what was going on between them. I didn’t tell him that I broke into his Fetlife account. I told him she had come up in a group I moderated on there and read her profile. She hadn’t really bothered to hide it.

“Do you love her?” I asked again. This time he nodded slowly as he realized that he did. I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I told him I consented to him being with her but I wanted to get to know her first. In the back of my head, I knew it was the beginning of my end, but I pushed it away. I loved him so much, I couldn’t live without him.

At Christmas in 2016, she and her child came to visit us for the kiddo’s school break. We had planned it in the summer, but as the days wore on, my despair grew and grew. I stopped eating. I started losing an alarming amount of weight. I started drinking more. And since I was drinking, I stopped taking my medicine. Two weeks before they were supposed to come, I had a nervous breakdown. I begged and begged him to call it all off. I cried unabashedly every time they were on the phone. I felt terrible because she and I had become friends and I knew she and the kiddo would be upset. It was literally killing me. But he refused. The day after Christmas, we drove to Chicago and picked them up. On the way there, a friend of mine called. We had rented a car cause ours was having issues and I hooked up my phone to it with Bluetooth. I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off, so The Sadist heard the whole conversation. He was not happy when my friend said he was openly cheating on me. I hurriedly got her off the phone. We drove the rest of the way in silence.

When we got there, she and kiddo were standing on the sidewalk waiting for us. As soon as I got of the car, I was tackle-hugged by the kiddo. We loaded up the their stuff in the trunk, made small talk with her mother for a bit, then we all headed back home. I was nervous but it dissipated with each passing mile.

They stayed at our house until the 5th of January. The kiddo had school the next day. We had to leave very early in the morning because she had an appointment we had to take her to about her back. I didn’t expect to miss them when we took them home. I cried all the way home. I had fallen in love with her too.

In March 2017, I proposed her and kiddo moving in with us. The Sadist was on board with the idea. So we’re they. We planned it for summer so the kiddo wouldn’t have to transfer schools during the school year. In June, we went back to Chicago. Kiddo was spending a month with her other family which gave us time to move everything without having to worry about her. We borrowed a friend’s SUV and packed it as full as we could and planned on renting a U-Haul to get the rest when we went to pick up the kiddo. We went back to Chicago a couple days before kiddo was supposed to get back. The three adults got into an argument the night before kiddo came back and the GF declared maybe her and kiddo could just stay there but in the end, they came back home to stay.

Things were good for awhile. But slowly, I was relegated to babysitter and maid and she took my place as wife. One cold rainy day in October 2018, I could no longer hold my tongue and I exploded on both of them. It culminated with me packing a bag and leaving saying I was never coming back. I walked a mile in the rain before realizing that I had nowhere to go. So I walked back home. The Sadist met me on the porch. I was being barred from entering. He tried to guilt trip me for hurting the GF and kiddo and told me I could stay there until I found a new place to live.

On the coldest day of January 2019, I moved into my new apartment. I’m still there. I brought girl kitty with me and he kept boy kitty. I miss him. In July 2020, The Sadist and I divorced officially. I didn’t handle it well. He and his GF are still in my life and I don’t know if that is why I am still not to a place where I can move on. When I started writing this post three months ago, I had started having recurring dreams of us getting back together. I had to take a break from writing this posts.The dreams have stopped now that I’ve gotten back in therapy.

In March 2020, I got Covid. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time. I was sick with what felt like a sort of severe cold for three weeks, but I thought that I got well. They never said that I had long Covid, but my health started tanking by December 2020. I developed neuropathy and became physically disabled. I developed neuropathy because Covid had depleted my B12 level. I also developed a platelet disorder and POTS. My health was perfect before Covid, and now it’s shit. But three years after separating from The Sadist, despite my physical condition, I’m in a good place. I’m still trying to work through my feelings about The Sadist and GF, but I like it being just me and Girl Kitty. I suppose this blog will have a lot about feelings like the original. Hope that’s okay.

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