Purge

I've decided to take advantage my company's EAP and see a therapist. I've been down this road (a handful of times) and it's incredibly difficult for me to find someone who works well with me. The first 6 visits are free - which is pretty good, actually. My first visit was two weeks ago and it seemed to go well, but nothing can be determined in one visit.

Something happened when I moved to NC. Actually, a lot happened. But I have been here for four years now and I still haven't adjusted. I've been stuck in a rut, and I need to figure out what is blocking me from being happy here.

Of course, I was in the middle of my divorce when I moved from FL to NC. I really thought I was over it. Heck, I met someone (who I thought was) my soul mate and said "yes" to an offer of marriage a year later! But that didn't work out, and it has taken me a while to get over it. I was heartbroken. In fact, I hadn't felt that heartbroken since high school. It was much different from my divorce. I feel as though I got over my divorce rather quickly...

Maybe too quickly. Maybe I covered that pain with the new relationship. A tell-tale sign: it moved too quickly. I was blind - we both were. Had I taken a moment, maybe I would have caught on sooner that he was an addict. I would have avoided the heartache.

My ex-husband and I still keep in touch via email a few times per year. While I can say he's still a friend, I harbor resentment when I think back on particular moments during our marriage. I've said it many times: we were better as friends than as husband and wife. Even confronting him after our divorce with the fact that I read his private journals and discovered the reality of how he felt about me, why he married me, and who he really was - and then working through that with him - still hasn't lessened my resentment. I suppose that is because he was less concerned about apologizing and more concerned with the fact that I read his private journals. Sure, it was wrong. But I was alone for four months while he was taking care of his dying mother, wondering what was going on with us. I had nothing but walls of journals sitting in front of me.

My resentment does not come from the fact that he has chosen to pursue (or not pursue - he's still struggling with it) the transition to becoming female. In fact, I am very supportive of whatever he chooses to do or become. My resentment comes from the fact that he kept it from me the entire time. Even that is understandable - it's a heavy thing to come to terms with. But to keep it from me and project his issues onto me was wrong, unfair and cruel. Over three years, he managed to - quite masterfully - dismantle my self esteem. I felt worthless, disgusting and alone. He should never have proposed in the first place, but he also could have asked for a divorce at any point during our marriage, instead of creating an environment that pushed me to do it for him.  We shared mutual friends. None of them knew a thing. They still don't know why we divorced. Why? Because, by default, I'd have to share a very personal issue of his in order to open up or ask for support. I didn't want to do that to him. No one in his wealthy, aristocratic, WASP-crazed family knew anything, of course, since, according to him, I was never good enough for him to tell them about me. I "lacked the social grace" to be in their presence. On the other hand, since our divorce, he had no problem telling them about his partial transition to becoming a woman. Somehow being married to an ill-mannered peasant was far more daunting.

I went through this nightmare, and although I may think I handled it well, I know that I am nowhere near finished with processing it. The end came swiftly. He returned from taking care of his mother, the same patterns started, I couldn't take it any more and decided we should divorce. I was a complete wreck; sad, crying myself to sleep. I would have done anything for it to work out. Yet, as heart-wrenching as it was to read the terrible things he had written about me, I still couldn't stop reading his journals. And thank goodness, because it was only after he returned - after the death of his mother - that I found out the final, real truth. I think the death of his mother changed him, freed him to finally be who he was. He had a whole lot to write when he came back, and I wanted to know what was going on. After that - I was thrilled to be rid of him. It was magical, almost. I discovered that all along, his disgust with me had nothing to do with me. I was excited about looking for my own place again, and then my company merged with another and told me I had to relocate to NC. Perfect timing. After only two months in NC, the divorce was finalized. I flew back to FL. He picked me up - we went to lunch, then the courthouse, and I met up with my sister afterward. I was even joking in the courtroom. I was completely fine and happy for it to be over. He was sad, and a little baffled. He had no idea at that point that I read every single journal entry since he met me, and I knew everything.

So I went back to NC. He took the money his mother left him (a lot of it) and moved out west - and it was over - like it never happened. I struggle with that. I'm here with zero support. No family, no friends. Just work. A lot of work.

Fast forward to Paul, the ex-fiancée. We had this understanding, of sorts, that "no matter what, we'd always be there for one another in cases of emergencies" since we both don't really have anyone here. At first I thought this would be OK because I didn't have to "completely" cut ties. Maybe my heartbreak would hurt less. That wasn't the case, so I took some time to detach. Then I thought it would be OK because I was detached and over him (I actually was), but then was able to clearly see his addiction, and that now it included alcoholism. So, I only visited to celebrate his children's birthdays (we had a tradition of sorts, where I'd take them to the store, and he'd decorate, get the cake, wrap gifts, etc.), some holidays, and to watch his cats when he was out of town. I decided to detach further. I only took care of his cats when he was out of town. It was during this time that he called me and begged me to come over - he was suffering withdrawals from alcohol and was afraid of what would happen. I let him. I ended up taking him to the ER. He told me (and has told me since) that "I saved his life" and thanked me. He was given pills to help with the detox, abused them, drank a couple days later, and continued to do so, along with the regular opioid use. I saw him less and less. Then I was in my car accident. I needed a ride home from the hospital and he picked me up - completely wasted. It was then that I decided it might be best to keep my distance for good. A few weeks later, he texted me. I didn't respond. He called over and over (which is not like him). I still didn't answer. He texted again: "I'm in the ER again with alcohol withdrawals. They won't give me medicine unless someone can pick me up. Can you come and get me?" I lied and told him I was out of town and unable to. I followed up the next day - the hospital made him stay for a few hours while he was on medication. They sent him home with a prescription of more pills, and he's right back to drinking again. When I was with him, he never did anything when he had his kids and I admit - he's a good father to them. But at this level of addiction, I can't possibly imagine that he's completely sober when his kids are with him. I texted him (as I have several times in the past): "You really need to go to rehab. You know me well enough by now to know that I care - not only about you but about your children. I worry that something will happen to you or them. I'm sure Audra (his ex-wife) would gladly help out for a month or so while you get things straightened out." He said, "I can't - I have to work, I have bills. I'll be OK. But thank you." So I asked him if Audra knew that he was in the hospital. He said he told her, but I don't believe him. He hasn't been in touch since. I think he was mad that I mentioned Audra. That I won't continue to keep quiet when his children are in danger. I've grappled with calling her. I still grapple with it. It's taking a lot out of me, but I can't continue to feel responsible for him any more.

Since I left Paul, I have gone on one date, which didn't work out. It has been three years, and I have been single, alone, working 12 hours per day. I went to school for massage therapy and haven't done a thing with my license since I graduated. I was so passionate about it. I moved into this current apartment a year ago and I still have about a dozen large boxes that sit in my living room unpacked. I've moved a lot. I've always unpacked my boxes. What's up with that? I love where I live, and I love decorating the places I live. I bought artwork - awesome artwork - but none of it is hanging on my walls. I have everything I need to create my meditation space - but it is all still in bags. Not a soul has stepped into any of my apartments (other than Paul) since I've lived in NC. Wait - my mother and her husband visited once - but that's it. I have two friends from massage school that I have brunch with every month or every other month. They've invited me to so many things and I always decline. Coworkers invite me to do things and I always decline. I don't want to deal with people. I used to at least do things on the weekend, by myself. I don't anymore. I stay home. Every day is the same thing. I work from 8:30am to around 8pm, no lunch. I come home and binge eat (wasn't really sure if what I am doing would be considered "the official" eating disorder, but  my therapist confirmed that it was) while sitting on my sofa watching television and making up for my lack of social life by posting "moments of joy" and cute animal photos on FB. No one I ever talk to outside of my apartment would ever believe for a minute that I am completely depressed and unhappy. I have mastered "faking it." I check OKCupid every day. Men are interested, they wink, they email, and I never reply. Even when I want to. Why would they be interested in me? If my ex-husband told me I was disgusting and unattractive when I was 80 pounds lighter, how in the world could any man be interested in me now? Now, I'm in a size 18. I weigh 259 pounds. I no longer recognize myself.  I posted full body photos on my profile and men are still interested and still I think they must just not know how big I "really" am. I tried dancing last year. I had a great time, but I never went back. I did yoga daily for one week when I was off work. I lost interest. I have to stop in the restroom after taking a flight of stairs on my way to my desk every morning so that I can catch my breath in private instead of panting out loud in my cubicle for everyone to hear. Just walking makes me out of breath now. It's just not like me and it's embarrassing. My therapist told me to just start walking, it's getting nice outside, go to a gym so you can be around people but don't have to interact with them. "Ok" I said. It's been two weeks. I haven't done a thing. My stepbrother died - I haven't shed a tear. My mother and sister both started crying when I talked to them on the phone and I just have no feeling of sadness at all. I no longer cry during sad movies. I'm getting short with people at work. I'm beginning to lose my filter and I'm growing more and more impatient.

All of these things are catching up with me I think, and spilling out in the form of isolation, depression, anger and hostility.

My fucking god, what is wrong with me?

So, I've followed another piece of advice my therapist gave me. I asked my Dr. to increase my dose of Zoloft. Let's see if that makes a difference. He also feels that "talk therapy" will be helpful since I don't have much of an outlet. I agree. My next visit is Monday.

Clearly, this is my other outlet. :) Writing always helps.