His Side has left the building

... along with Elvis and my battle to balance hope and disappointment.

As an overachiever, I didn't end this battle after quiet contemplation. That's too simple. ::eyeroll:: There were neighbors... and cops... and domestic violence papers... and changed locks. Thankfully, two guests didn't show up to the party: Tears and Regret.

Lemme go back. His Side recently made a remarkable move. He reached out to medical professionals for the help he needed to fight his formidable demons. I supported him as a friend, allowed him to remain in my home, and actually witnessed a marked improvement. He stopped drinking, gave up his tendency to try and control everyone (but himself), and conducted himself like a rational person experiencing a prolonged moment of clarity.

Then came the lapse. The meltdown.

He decided to get drunk on the vodka we purchased for friends and lost his damn mind. Seriously. And literally. He went to that place where the light behind his eyes go dark, reality escapes him, and a target must be sought. As I sat silently waiting for the storm to end, he couldn't stand my unwillingness to engage... so he threw me to the floor. By. My. FACE. It was the mush heard round the world. I hit the floor like a rock and went straight for the phone to call the police. He twisted my arm until I let go the house phone and took my cell. I got my son out of bed, went to the neighbors, and called the cops.

To make a long story short, I opted not to press charges so long as he was removed from the home. To his cousin's he went in a police car, as I stared at the police report - wondering how I endured the patience and longsuffering of hope.

Even as I sit here, 3 weeks later, I have trouble finding the words to express how this has changed my life. I am so satisfied that my daily energy isn't spent trying to help somebody who floats in and out of helping themselves. I cook more, relax more, and enjoy the slow process of getting my house back into order. Yet somehow, I don't regret the time I spent loving His Side and hoping he would win the fight against his heavy baggage. Hell, I still love him, but from AFAR.

Even though his apologies have been heartfelt and sincere, I was relieved to see the moment he realized there is no way back into my life. While he fights a new demon - the weight of regret - I relish the freedom of releasing all of his baggage back into his care. Unlike the past, I don't feel concerned that he may not make it. I'm alright with his success or his failure because I let it go without the remnant of feeling any responsibility.

Sadness, embarrassment, and lonliness were fleeting feelings. But this satisfaction I'm feeling is permanent.

A humor break since laughter is my lifelong friend...

A psychiatrist conducted a group therapy session with four mothers. "You all have obsessions."

To the first mother, he said, "You are obsessed with eating and even named your daughter Candy." He turned to the second Mom. "Your obsession is with money and named your child Penny." He turns to the third Mom. "Your obsession is alcohol and you named your child Brandy."

At this point, the fourth mother gets up, takes her little boy by the hand and whispers, "Come on, Dick, we're leaving."

Seems to me that last mother should have had more than one kid, but I digress.

Have a good weekend!

Tears of a clown.

The tears. The TEARS. I can't take the tears. Don't tell me what a wonderful woman I am and explain how devastated you are that you have to leave my circle, my home, my LIFE.

Too little. Waaaaaaaaay too late. Like giving a whale a tic tac for bad breath after tooth rot sets in. A waste of time. A useless gesture. At worst... foolish.

I've seen these tears before. Don't tell me what a blessing I've been to you. Don't tell me I'm beautiful, sexy, fun and funny, sweet, and an unbelievable best friend - when you can't control yourself long enough to respect me as the woman you described.

For once, I'm not moved. I can't respond, except to tell you what a relief it will be to be away from you and watch your shadow fade into my rear-view mirror. In fact, as I explained to you over dinner, we'll both be relieved - just for different reasons. My reasons are obvious. For you, you can stop pretending that you ever intended to honor me and quit taking advantage of my love, patience, friendship, and help.

I'm no longer disappointed in you, because you showed me who you were and I didn't listen. Unfortunately, you waited until I was invested, and I boiled with the proverbial frog. That damn frog is the only way I can explain why it took me so long to jump out of this pot. I doubted my ability to see straight. That scares me the most. I'll never distrust myself again.

I thank you for every good time we had. They were just as real as the lows.

I created a category called "breakups" for this blog. It's almost strange to have to use it now with such finality.

I love you although there's no place left for you in my life. In the bittersweet end, I'm okay with that.

I stole the pic from here. So sue me.

Under the wheels and into the rearview mirror goes HisSide in my mind...

Don't shop when you're hungry. You may buy too much.

Don't blog when you're angry. You may say too much.

FUCK IT.

Under the wheels and into the rearview mirror goes HisSide in my mind. I'd only consider hitting reverse to hear that "THUD" one more time...

I am tired, sleep-deprived, hurt, and angry. My exterior says I have this cocktail of negative emotions under control because my pressure-cook valve isn't at critical mass. I suspect my calm represents more emotional exhaustion than some enlightened state of "letting it go."

Last night, in an epic failure of manhood and maturity, HisSide erupted into an absolute meltdown after his ex-wife stole some money from him. She ran off into the night, leaving me the blindsided convenient target for HisSide's unchecked, unattended, and totally unhinged emotional ANGER.

Yelling in my face with spit flying. Balled fists. Threats of smacking me. Screaming "stupid," "idiot," in my face. The tirade was so long, so unprovoked, so surprising, and so BITTER, that I eventually cried. To which he responded, "You can save that act for somebody else."

You see, I learned to time these things with HisSide. I knew when it was coming. But this one hurt like no other. I paid the train fee and provided the transportation to meet her to split the check from the sale of their old home. I gave him the last change in my pocket so he could eat in the train station while he was there. I listened to his hurt as he described the way she gave him less than his half and literally RAN from the bank with the man she cheated with years ago during the marriage. I met him at the train, hugged him, rubbed his back as pain and anger took turns flashing through his confused mind. "I never thought she would do that to me." I played his favorite computer game with him when he wanted to take his mind off things. And I did my best to absorb the blow when the tirade against me started. Until enough was enough.

I don't want to get too sidetracked, but I had her number AGES ago. This is the same ex-wife who gave it to him up his ass five years ago when she scammed him into living in their old house rent free. I offered to draft a lease for him. I warned him he was placing himself in a precarious position. End result: She never paid a dime and the city took the house for a tax lien. I knew from their phone conversations she was a trickster. Strike one.

Fast forward five years later, the city finally sold the house and sent the check for the profit after the lien was resolved. "Don't trust her to give you your half. Get that check here and send her half to her. Not the other way around."

"But she would never do that."

"She fucked you on that house in the first place."

I was right, but somehow I paid the price for his folly.

HisSide is the only person ON. THIS. PLANET. to ever treat me this way, and yesterday was one of the lowest points of my life. Although I parted romantic ways with him over two years ago, I don't want to believe he has the capacity to treat me with such horror. But we've been here before, so why am I so hurt? I already know who he is, when he isn't the man I fell in love with. He's an inexcusable monster who I spent too long making excuses for.

How did I get here?

He screamed that he KNOWS I found somebody else since I broke up with him 2 years ago - an accusation he hurls when his Emotional IQ drops to Infancy. He's only half right. Although there isn't another man, I am open to dating and placing myself in a position to give love and get what I deserve in return. (Anyway, how stupid do you have to be to believe that screaming at a woman would make her want you back, anyway? Asshole.)

Is this what some people call the process of "falling out of love?" Nah. I don't believe that. I love HisSide as much as I did 4 years ago. To me, this is a process of placing the love for myself above any hopes that he'll grow up and grow a pair. I see how abused women get caught in a cycle. They skip this last important step and neglect to show their jerk THE DOOR. Love ain't they key. The key is RECIPROCITY! And I reminded HisSide that the doorknob needs to connect with his his ass ASAP.

I learned all I needed to learn about inviting madness and giving it a warm place to call home. I am remarkably thankful for the lesson HisSide represents in my life, primarily because I'll deeply appreciate the future joy of loving and getting a little tenderness in return.