The Last Hug

My name is Cristina D. Johnson and I'm sorry to those who think this stuff is redundant. This is my life. This is what I am going through.

My days are like this....

I wake up every morning at 6:30 when Bill calls me. It's 5:30 where he is and he has to be at work at 6 o'clock. Thankfully, this works out well because this is when Trevor is up, getting ready for school. He doesn't like me to be overbearing ("did you put on deodorant?" "Did you brush your teeth?" "Do your clothes match?" "Did you eat breakfast?") so all he really wants is for me to wake up, check on him, and that's kind of how it goes. Then he leaves for school.

I end up crawling back into bed because I spent the previous night up until at least 1 a.m. - sometimes as late as 3 or 4 a.m. - talking with Bill. Depends on the conversation and how I'm doing. He's always concerned when I'm not myself (like last night).

This morning, after I went back to sleep, I had another nightmare. This one was hideous.

It's a little sketchy and scattered but Gary was there and my son, Tony was there (I know this is connected to the hurtful and shameless texts Tony was sending me the other night when he was drunk) but he'd told Gary (in my dream) that'd I had been sleeping with him (Tony). I confronted Tony immediately! Never! never, ever, ever!!! I was so unaffectionate with my children because of this fear of the mentality that "oh...it's passed down from generation to generation..." Oh my God I wouldn't even bathe Tony as a child unless someone was present and the door was open. It's an unfortunate truth. (Fortunately, Trevor does not appreciate nor want affection - part of his autism).

Anyway, we were in a place, some place where they did performances and all our old "mutual friends" were there and they had masks on. They were singing. They would mess up on stage, argue, then start over again, but when this accusation came out, suddenly I was somewhere else...I don't know, maybe on a bus? Somewhere small and confined, and all the sudden people - these "mutual friends" (one I recognized immediately was Hedy), began throwing things at me and kicking me and hurting me. I saw Gary standing nearby and he had his arms crossed, over his chest...staring at me with disgust as these people kept yelling obscenities at me and kicking me and throwing things at me. At one point, I was in the street and they were kicking dirty snow and ice at me as I cried.

There was more to the dream than that, but this is the part that sticks out most, besides one other part: a black man who resembled Forest Whitaker who was kind to me. My instinct and intuition aligns him with Bill because, in the dream, he stuck out (he was black) and he was gentle (like Bill) and worked hard (like Bill) and, most importantly, he was kind to me (like Bill). He invited me to come to his apartment. He stood outside his door, unlocking it, and spoke so gently, telling me I was welcome inside - welcome to come in and be safe - and I was afraid. I was dirty. I couldn't go into the apartment.

I know this seems repetitive, but my days and nights are filled with torment over nightmares and flashbacks - all of Gary.

Today, shaken over my nightmare, I was talked through it by Cindy and Bill. At least to a point where - along with two Klonopin - I was able to make it to the store and post office. I felt accomplished, although weary and concerned about what to make for dinner. I opted for something simple: sloppy joes, but the ground beef was so damned expensive I chose some hamburger patties. I hate feeding my child what I can afford, rather than what I want to feed him.

Anyway....

Trevor got home from school as I was packaging up a care package to send to Bill (it's cold in Illinois and, well, he's a wuss as far as cold weather goes) so I had to get that sent. I did it.

I came home, I put up all the things I'd bought, spread the towel out on my bed as I always do (to protect against dirt, cigarette ashes, cat hair, etc.) and rocked...just rocked... and suddenly, I was hit like a truck with the flashback of when I moved in (I'm sure it had something to do with Samantha's post on moving alone with no help).

I told Trevor he could have the leftover steak in the fridge that I couldn't eat the other night. This pleased him, of course. "Are there any mashed potatoes left?" he asked. "Yep," was my answer, trying to be upbeat.

As he ate downstairs, alone, I sat on my towel, on my bed, and rocked and rocked and rocked...just rocking.... and I saw in my mind, the day I moved. Gary was the only one I could ask for help. He still had the seats out of the van from when he helped "Dee" move. He and Kurt helped. It took them two or three days to move her stuff. I'm sure they were very careful with her stuff.

It took one day to move mine and when it was done, I had scratches and scars, broken furniture...nothing was cared for or handled carefully. Nothing about what was important to me, mattered. It was a rush.

It was a hot day and Gary wore a white shirt. I believe he wore shorts. He kept ordering Trevor around, yelling at him although he was doing his best. I've never seen my son work so hard, without argument. He did everything Gary said and told him to do, but seldom without criticism, although he was working so hard to do his best. My baby wanted out of there so bad, that he put up with Gary's degradation and never said a word.

At the end of the day - when he called his friend, Kurt who had a truck to help move the last of the larger items - I was treated like I was diseased. Shows how clueless Gary is. He told Kurt God-only-knows  what, who, in turn I'm sure, shared with his new girlfriend, Sandy (who was there that day), and who said something to me that she had no reason, business or right to say: "Take care of yourself. I hope you get better."

Well-intended, I'm sure, but none of hers (OR ANYONE'S) business!

That's how I was treated in my dream.

After everything was moved in, and though I knew Gary was seeing someone else - and had been - I recall, it was dark. He and Kurt were going to hook up that night.

We stood in the kitchen, by the back door before he left. He still wore a black bandana around his head to guard the sweat coming into his eyes. He was merciless that day. To me, and to Trevor.

I began to cry.

I walked up to him, I put my arms around him. Oh God.

I cried. I don't remember what I said. I don't remember what he said.

I just remember that he held me, rather sideways....as if he didn't want to cheat on his new girlfriend. As if, again, I was diseased.

I wanted more than anything at that moment for him to just hold me. HOLD ME. Hold me, goddamnit, the way I've needed you to for months!! Show me you don't want this! Show me you love me! Show me I matter to you!!!!

But it was just a sideways embrace. Like our entire relationship. I put my heart into it, my trust into it. I opened up and dared to be vulnerable, only to get half a hug and a pat on the head.

Now....

Now I have Bill who is absolutely in love with me - always has been. He's helped me (and is helping me....and us) more than anyone ever has. And I can only have nightmares about Gary and mourn and cry and feel afraid because of how people treat me. Even my own son.

 Nobody gets it. No, "Dee," you DON'T get it and you never did - claiming to be my friend - and never will. You, in my dream, threw things and kicked me. You were never a friend. Just keep enjoying your absolut and living vicariously through your children, and letting men buy you drinks while you drink yourself into denial.

Bill.... Bill ...oh God.
How do I reach that level of trust and openness and vulnerability that I had with Gary - he promise....he promised....God he promised...

And although Bill has never let me down, never betrayed me, always been there, treats me spectacularly.... I am still so terrified. So afraid. So so afraid.

I don't know what to think or believe. I don't know who to believe. I'm so lost. I'm so, so lost. I'm afraid in my own home.

All I could think this morning was, "I don't belong here" and when I said it, I felt like I don't belong anywhere. I never have. Especially here - where everyone's wearing a mask and kicking me while I'm down. Oh God how that hurts.

This isn't to say there aren't supportive people out there and I suppose it's hard to be supportive when you've heard only one side of the story and you believe it. I suppose that's easy to do, when the person telling the story is buying the drinks, throwing the parties and has been here for over 30 years.

I got so far....so, so far in my therapy and in my journey when I lived with Gary. I thought he understood, at least a little.... but then he got misinformed by a mutual friend who, I'm sure meant well, but did not do any good to help. She hurt, more than she helped. An LCSW, at that. She did nothing to help Gary understand what was happening....just took his word for it (they went to school together) rather than asking my side of it.

It's going to take me a long time to get over this. I have cried so much today, that I'm glad I have nothing to do tomorrow. I will look like a raccoon with puffy eyes.

I'm flying blind. I'm in this dark, damp, dank dingy tunnel, the walls are cold and wet, and there's no light and I keep pushing forward, but there's no light yet.... I have to be vulnerable enough to just keep going...just keep my hands on the cold brick, around the curves, and hope...hope...hope that in the light will be Bill and  Cindy and ....others.

Right now, in CT.....I feel like I'm in a different world. These people as a rule, have no idea. They just have no idea and you can't tell them because they don't want to hear it. They can't envision it because life here, in CT, is beautiful. Full of fall foliage and rivers and streams. The Sound and beautiful mountains and nature.

No, no, no you can't have DID or PTSD....that doesn't exist in this world.

Furthermore, if it does, get over it because we can't handle it.

Gary.......oh Gary.

Oh God I wish you knew. Oh my heart splits right now, right down the middle just wishing you knew. I never needed at hero. You thought I did. I didn't. I needed someone to help me bring out my own hero. Someone who would be there, unconditionally.

And there's Bill...there unconditionally...and you've made me fear him.

Everyone here, makes me fear people. Everything in my past makes me fear people. Going to the grocery store I am terrified of seeing someone who knows me. I hide my face. I move fast. Very fast. I don't want to be seen.

I will get better. I won't always have these horribly sad, depressing blogs but for now, this is part of my journey. And that's what this blog is about: The Journey.

I don't know who reads my blogs. I write them for me...and I truly hope/wish they help others, but this is my venue. Forgive me if I sound like a victim.

I am a fighter...just been knocked down pretty bad this time. I appreciate that some of you have stayed with me.

Duct Tape?

I was nervous. It was "girls" night. One of only two times I recall ever going "out" anywhere without Gary during our relationship. I was very, very nervous because I never felt I fit in. But I convinced myself it'd be okay..... I offered to bring the salad.

Dina invited me, Bonnie, Leah, Beth, Rachel and I think that's it. Dina's a quiet, shy type. I and Gary did not know her really well but we met her though Leah who I considered to be one of only two real friends I had. I'd met Bonnie before and Rachel but not Beth (who turned out to be a riot).

I was nervous the whole time, feeling like I stuck out like a sore thumb and wondering the whole time, where Gary was. I knew he was going out - figured probably to the Pattaconk - but at that time, it was just us girls, hanging out in Dina's apartment, eating her delicious homemade chicken pot pie and my salad.

I think there was desert, too, but I don't recall.

After a couple of hours, a couple of us phoned our beaus - mine, of course, being Gary. I couldn't wait to see him. I just wanted to be near him and to feel safe.

"They're at the Pattaconk," I informed the girls (Leah's boyfriend and Gary were there), as was "Dee," funny enough - partying with Gary.

So we left Dina's and we all went to the Pattaconk. I was still nervous...didn't feel quite right. Saw him, felt much better, and stood there by him as I drank a Corona. Everyone partied and had a good time. I kind of just wanted to go home. Being with the girls was fun but it rattled my nerves, for sure, and I was saturated with a feeling I can't describe. One of discomfort, of just wanting to go home.

That was months ago.

Dina was a friend, I suppose. And the rest were potential friends... I liked them all, especially Leah. She was a good friend to me, I thought.

Gary hardly knew any of them except Leah and "Dee" - the only two people I considered to be friends of mine. I often joked that if/when Gary and I got married, they would be my bridal party....that's how close I considered them.

But then the break-up happened and I moved. Strangely enough, I moved to an apartment that's literally around the corner from Dina. We were both shocked and delighted! I haven't seen her since I moved but we talked a little on Facebook about getting together and she (again) mentioned that she needed to bring my salad bowl back to me.

Then in August it happened....

She changed her profile picture to one of her partying on Gary's boat, with Leah.

My heart just sank. It wasn't the first time I'd seen heart-breaking pictures of him partying on his boat as if all in life were perfect, while my heart was cracking into a million pieces. I had defriended most of our boater friends because I literally couldn't stomach seeing it. It sickened me in a heartbroken kind of way, not in a disgusted way....just shattered me.

I labored over this for days, finally sent her a message:

Hi Dina

I'm writing to let you know that I think you're wonderful but I am defriending everyone associated with Gary and those who party with him. It's an enormous trigger for me and quite honestly I don't even know who to trust.

Seeing a picture of you on his boat, immediately sends me reeling - it's that bad.

This is not personal because, like I said, I think you're a wonderful person, but I just can't handle any reference or pictures of him or his boat or his activities.

I hope you understand and I wish you the best.

-C

No response.

Today I got a text message that simply said: "I put your bowl on your mailbox"

"Thank you," I responded.

He went out during our breakup and made sure to talk to every single female person who could have possibly been a friend to me. He sunk his claws into them and made sure they went out and partied with him...made sure they saw how much fun he can be...even Leah. Even those who he didn't even really know! People who I could have turned to.

Today, as I was going to the store for milk, I saw a bag hanging from my mailbox.

I got out of the car, walked over to it, and saw that it was hung over my flipped-up flag, duct taped into place.

She went to an awful lot of trouble to make sure she didn't have to see me.

Duct tape? Really? What the hell did he tell you about me that made you treat me like a diseased animal?

Thanks...thanks a lot.

Less than a block away, and not even the courtesy to bring it to my door.

I  could die right now.

People are so cruel.