So I had a breakdown in counseling last week and I was given a homework assignment. I haven’t done it yet. I was going to do it tonight since I have counseling coming up again, but instead, I am going to write about something else. Maybe later I will do my homework. We shall see.
I have known Choney for over 25 years. When I first met him, I couldn’t fucking stand him. Like really, truly hated him. He was so annoying. He was the brother of my best friends’ husband. Luckily, I didn’t have to interact with him that much at that time. Forward to two years later–right after I had Deven, so 1996. He had just come out of prison for the millionth time (unfortunately that didn’t stop until like 2013 or something) and he moved in with his brother and my friend. Well…I was also living there at the time with my kids. For some reason, I have no idea what the actual fuck happened, but when I saw him again after two years, I fell immediately in love. It may or may not have had something to do with the fact he was buff as hell having just come out of lockup and way more mature than the last time I had seen him. But I regress.
Regardless, I fell head over heels in love with him that moment and have loved him ever since. That was in 1996. We were together for 6 years. Unfortunately, he was in and out of prison and on and off drugs. So needless to say, our time was a bit chaotic. But, he is the only person I have ever dated that I could be my 100% true, authentic, crazy self with and that still holds true to this day. There has only been one other in my life like that aside from him and so it means something to me.
Anyway, in 2001, I decided I couldn’t take the drugs and bullshit anymore and up and left Utah. I moved to New Mexico in January of 2002. I saw him twice in all the years I have been here until October 2015, (the first time was 2003) when I went back to Utah with my mom for a week and found out his mom had passed away. I had kept in touch with his mom all those years except for the last few, so I was still close with her and I was really sad about that. I decided to look him up and offer my condolences. When I saw him for the first time after 14 years, I was struck by the emotion that I had for him. It was like no time had passed and I was still that head over heels in love girl. So I brought him back to NM with me in October 2015. At the time, everyone was stunned, but they trusted my decisions, even if they didn’t agree with them.
Now it is 2 years, 3 months later.
Not only has he been living here for that long–that is also the longest he has been sober since he was 15. So there is that. While I am so proud of his sobriety, I have had the experience of getting to know him as a sober person–both him and I. That has been rough. For a few reasons. One, we are very different people than we were 20 years ago. I have gone through a lot and its changed me (I much more broken and bitter when it comes to love and opening myself up to it). Second, as more time goes on that he is sober, his body is starting to reveal all the damage he has done to it over the years. It started with his vision. He was jumped like 14 years ago and a muscle in his eye is very damaged. He will have to wear special lenses for the rest of his life. His joints are also pretty much destroyed–his bones as well. Meth was his drug of choice and meth destroys bone. He has dentures. He has restless leg syndrome. His knuckles lock at random. He has osteoarthritis throughout his body. His knee needs to be replaced, his asthma is out of control, even with heavy steroidal medication, His eyesight worsens every year, and he has constant pain. Every week something new comes up with him.
I am sick of it to say the least. I know that sounds harsh…and it probably is, but I am too young to be with someone with this many health issues. Selfish? Maybe. Cold? Maybe. But it is how I feel, and the one thing I learned in counseling is that I need to own how I feel, regardless of whether it has a good or bad label. I just need to feel it, and work through it and whatever. So yeah.
SOOOOOOOO—today I found out that my 44 year old boyfriend had a minor heart attack in November. That’s fucking awesome. (sarcasm alert). So now, not only do I have to deal with all of his other health problems, plus the issues we have between us, plus his daughters issues….NOW I have to deal with the possibility of him having a major heart attack at any given moment. Not only does heart disease run in his family, and he will probably develop diabetes here in the next couple years, he has abused his body so fucking much it is just a matter of when, not if. Mother fucking fabulous.
I know this sounds so horrible, but I don’t want to deal with it anymore. I have been dealing with so much regarding him and his child, that this just seems like straw that broke the camel. I don’t honestly know how much more I can take here. I feel like I should not be dealing with essentially an 80 year old in my life unless it was either a billionaire, a grandfather, or one of my parents. A boyfriend? No. No. Just fucking NO.
I am strong person. But my plate is already full with my own issues–both mental and physical. I just don’t think I have it in me to take on this much of someone else’s bullshit. And yes, before you start pointing fingers and shaking heads and deciding I am a piece of shit, know that I am already on the guilt/shame train…… so don’t judge. There are more issues in my relationship than you know or I am willing to divulge that bring me to this point.
I should love him enough to stick by him. I should be better than this. I should be a better person, etc, etc, etc. Well, I am not. I don’t even want to be. It would be different if our relationship was different. It would be different if I didn’t feel like I was being punished for all his past mistakes. It would be different if him and his daughter weren’t such a giant fucking burden on my life. It would be different if things were fucking different. This is not what I wanted my life to be. I have been taking care of people my whole life–I want someone to take care of me back as I get older…. I don’t want to live with or be with someone that is physically dependent on me. He’s already financially dependent and that is almost more than I can handle. So now fucking what?
I am not mentally, emotionally or physically prepared to take on this much ………………..shit.
I am just not.
And I have no fucking idea what to even do with any of it.