Zip back to the present - January 2010. I just have to write about this. Especially now that it's on the uphill climb, and I'm feeling better.
On Friday, Jan. 8, two days ago, Chelsea called me crying, saying she was in terrible pain. And that the pain went from her breasts all the way down to her belly...and she didn't know what to do. Of course she knew that I couldn't do anything either, but that is her M.O....to call her mommy when she is not feeling good. That was about 4:30 my time, and I was about do go on a dinner date. I told her that, and was perfectly willing to stay home...but she said "go, and have a good time". So I went, with the condition that she call me if anything changed, or she decided to go to the hospital. I didn't hear from her, but I called her phone when I got home. Her boyfriend Larry answered and said she was still in pain, and that she couldn't really talk. Then later, her friend Heather called, saying that Chelsea wanted her to call me and let me know that she was no better. I don't think Heather really knew what to do.
In hindsight, this is when I wish I had talked her into going to the hospital. This is when I think it would have been crucial to have gotten some help. But I wasn't there - I didn't know.
I prayed, and then I went to bed.
The next morning, I was woken up by the phone ringing.It was about 6 a.m. It was Chelsea's neighbor, Nancy, letting me know that she was at Chelsea's house, and she had called an ambulance for her and it was on its way. ...she just wanted to let me know. She said that Chelsea just couldn't take the pain any longer, and that she couldn't walk, or hold her head up, it was so bad. She stayed with me on the phone until the ambulance got there. I asked her to call me back, and she said, of course she would.
It wasn't long before she called me again. They had seen Chelsea at the emergency room, and they found that she was bleeding internally. That's all they knew at this point. I even talked to the physician's assistant, and he said it was bleeding inside her. Nancy said she was going to stay until they found out what going on, and I thanked her for staying and letting me know what was going on. The next time she called, which was just maybe 30 minutes later, or less, she told me they had found out she was, in fact, bleeding internally and they were going to go in and find out what was going on. This was frightening news. And she had obviously lost an awful lot of blood!! Nancy thought they would definitely admit her. Yes, she found out, they were going to do surgery.....
I was beside myself, but I tried to stay calm. I called Staci, her sister who lives in Kansas City. (she is a half-sister, but she and HER sister, Stella, are very close to Chelsea...) When I called her and explained that Chelsea was going into surgery for internal bleeding, the first thing Staci said was 'why?'. I didn't know anything, other than that what I had been told. I asked her, by any chance, could she or Stella drive down there to be with her in the hospital? She didn't even hesitate. She said "absolutely, I'll go!" All she said she had to do was pack a few things and get on the road. She said she would also call Leeann, her friend in Ark City where Chelsea lives and ask her to go over there until Staci got there. LeeAnn was a nurse and would be able to tell Staci a bit more about what was going on. I was so thankful, so glad, so relieved...that Staci was so willing to go...I breathed a little easier. Chelsea was asking for me, and I was thinking about what I would do, and how I would get there.
While I was waiting for news about the surgery, I found out that a round trip airline ticket would cost $600!! There was no way I could afford that!! And if I drove it would take a couple days, and some money as well!! I talked to my neighbor and she helped me decide to wait and see what things looked like after Staci got there. Meanwhile, Staci called me and said she had gone by to pick up Stella and they were on their way!! I couldn't believe that both of them were going!! Plus, Staci had brought her daughter, Danielle, with them too!! I was so thankful...grateful...I was speechless at the love and family that was taking place with my daughter!!
All that day, I though about nothing else but my daughter, her sisters, what she was going through, and what I could do, if anything. I have learned through my recovery that stuff will happen no matter what we do...and that all I can do is let it go, let God take care of it, and try to stay positive. I did try to do that, and succeeded to a point. But I'm sure my body was still tense and upset just because of the fact that I couldn't be there...
But really, what could I do? What difference would it make if I WAS there? I couldn't do anything except wait, and I could do that here.
So, when she got out of surgery, which didn't take more than 45 minutes, I bet, Nancy called again and let me know it had been a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. They had to remove one ovary, and a fallopian tube. And they had given her more blood to replace all that she had lost. Her kidneys were fine, she was on IV fluids, and she would stay in ICU for a day or so. The doctor said that if she hadn't come to the hospital when she did, she would have died in a matter of minutes...gone into hemorhaggic shock, and then died. I didn't know what to say, and all I did was cry.....
It wasn't long after that that the girls got there. They kept reassuring me that things would be fine, that they would see to Chelsea, to her house, to her dogs, and that I didn't need to worry about anything....I kept telling them that I felt like I should be there but that I didn't know if I could afford to come out. They said, don't worry....we'll be fine, don't worry...
So I didn't...but I don't think I took a breath until the next day, or maybe that evening when I heard Chelsea's voice on the phone. Chelsea was awake, but doped up. Her voice was raspy and weak, but she was able to talk to me for a few minutes. Her friend, Bev, had also spent most of the day at the hospital as well and was very good about reassuring me during the day about Chelsea's condition.
Meanwhile, I did my laundry, went to the office to work ahead on my paper, in case I did need to go. I also went to my favorite yarn shop that evening to knit, just so I would have something to keep my mind on, and to relax. It worked. Having all those women around me, gabbing and happy, took my mind off my daughter for a little while. Plus, while I was there, I heard from Bev and from Chelsea, and was able to get some more reassurance that all was well.
The world goes on without me....without MOM taking care of things and being there to hold her hand!! Imagine that!!
The next day, Saturday, I was feeling better. I was not feeling as guilty as I was before, except for the fact that the girls were dealing with everything and I wasn't. But my mind was on them all the time.
Chelsea called me from her own phone about noon, and I was able to talk to her for a while. She was said about the pregnancy, but she knew this was not a good time to have a baby for her. (We had already talked about that.) She talked about the signs that she hadn't recognized about the ectopic pregnancy. She talked about Larry not really wanting to go to the hospital cause it was where he had already lost one child. She said she didn't use birth control ...not with Larry...I told her that now that she's had one pregnancy like this, she would need to be careful that she doesn't have another one...she would have to be really careful. I don't know how much of what MOM says she hears. I know that she listens to her sisters probably more than she does me. She was already annoyed about haveing to be in the hospital, which was a good sign. and then she got tired and wanted to get off phone.
Later on, I called Staci. She said that they had taken the catheter out and Stella had helped Chelsea down to the shower to clean up and wash her hair, and they had both combed it out for her. What a great sisterly picture that brought to mind!! She assured me everything was fine...they had walked the dogs, cleaned up the house, done laundry....etc...and I told her it made me feel SO much better, that it was such a load off my mind, to have them there and taking care of everything. She kept saying it was fine, that she was our little sister, and we wouldn't have done anything else! I am just in awe! I love them so much..I just can't beleive they did this!! And Chelsea was very surprised to see them, and very appreciative as well...she also couldn't believe they would come to her side like they did. And Danielle too!! I know...I KNOW...that this was the best thing for her.
THEN they were saying that they had already told Chelsea that she was going to go home with them when she got out of the hospital..so they could take care of her!! Oh my!! I am so overwhelmed by the love and caring that they were showing...without any effort!! I was constantly grateful...and it warmed my heart beyond words.
I didn't have any sisters..I don't know what it would be like to have other women taking care of you that are related by blood...who love you JUST BECAUSE you are their sister!! They have done so much for her, and I know that I can rely on them to do the right thing by Chelsea because they are her sisters and they love her.
So, now I have a new and updated respect for the girls...not that I didn't already love and respect them already!! But now, they are angels, in my eyes. They are the epitome of family...they are unconditional love...they are sweetness, they are kindness, they are goodness, and they are sisters!! I am so fortunate...and so grateful!! Now I could breathe, relax, know that my daughter was taken care of, and so were her dogs....I could know that all this was for a reason and that having her sisters take care of her was, really, better than having mom there...don't you think??
I still....a few days after all this happened...want to cry when I think about how close to death she was. Was that the doctor just saying that so that she would call for help a little sooner next time? Or is it true? Either way, my heart hurts to think of it, and from the somewhat helpless feeling that I get when I think about her there by herself. But, then, I think about her sisters and how much they love her, and I get a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. She is ok with my not being there, and she is ok with her sisters being there....
I remain grateful and humble each day.....
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
I kept drinking....
My second husband and I were together for a couple years before we decided to get married. Well, I guess it was mostly my decision to get married, as Jeff loved to brag about the fact that he was in his late 30's and never been married. Was that a good thing? I didn't know at the time. He seemed to think so. All I knew was that I was feeling like I was too old to be calling him my boyfriend all the time. Now, though, when I look back, that should have been fine. I never should have married him. It was too final, too definite, too confining....but I thought it was the best thing for me and him both.
I was still drinking heavily, and even though we were getting in arguments, they weren't too bad ...yet. I love him, I thought, and we seemed to be getting along in between the arguments. I still numbed my feelings with the alcohol, escaped the parts of my life that cause me pain with the alcohol...and loudly voice my opinions to him when I had the chance. I realized that I was turning into the sort or woman that I didn't like...that I never wanted to be -loud, argumentative, vengeful, bitchy, and resentful.
We had been in that raggedy trailer for all this time. I had put up curtains, painted the walls, gotten everything going in the kitchen - the gas, etc. - and just generally tried to make it a home for us. And it was ...not bad. Cozy and comfortable, at least as much as it could be. It was my home, as much as I could make it that. I just didn't let anyone see it.
I really don't want to dwell on the fact that I was a bad mom for those few years that I was with my second husband. But I was. The times that my daughter came to visit were not good. She and I argued a lot, even though there were times that we had some good discussions and good times. She was an adolescent, and that's when they seem to know everything. Then when she came to live with us, it was still up and down with the arguments.
I do remember some good times when she had friends over. She made a friend or two at school and would bring them home. One in particular was even related to my husband, and she became a really close friend of Chelsea's. They seemed to do everything together. They had their times when they were mad at each other, but they always made up and became friends again. Amongst it all, though I remember being very tense and anxious about her, and the things she was going through. And I was still drinking at the time, too. Times like when I dropped her off at the middle school and it was raining. She walked to my place of work - about 20 blocks or so - and was standing in the front office just dripping, saying that she just didn't want to go to school that day!! I was so mad!! I took her home, tried to make her change her clothes and take her back to school. But when she refused to go to school, I felt helpless. What could I do? I couldn't physically make her go to school? I couldn't physically make her do anything! I talked to the principal - he could only do so much from his end. I talked to the police - they couldn't do much unless she had broken the law. I talked to a counselor - they couldn't do much unless Chelsea was willing to talk to them. She was very sarcastic, hateful, and uncooperative. And I just didn't know what to do.
At some point she went back to her dad's, got in trouble, and went to a group home in Pittsburg, Kansas. I think it was for mostly truancy and maybe smoking. That was obviously not allowed in her school. So I made the drive over to Pittsburg every so often, probably every other weekend, to see her. When I was there I would take her out to eat, or swimming, or shopping, or just spend some time with her. I was also trying to get sober at this time. She got out of that place, went back to live with her dad that summer, and promptly got in trouble again when school started. This time she went to a place in Columbus, Kansas. It was not quite as confining as the other one, as she went to public school there, but it was still a not very nice place for her to be. This time, when I went to see her, it seemed like she was learning her lesson, and definitely didnt' want to be there!! I think when kids realize that they don't want to be someplace like that, then they know what they have to do NOT to go there again!! I didn't feel like she was playing me, and she could easily have done that, I'm sure.
This was when I was getting sober, taking parenting classes, and doing whatever the judge wanted me to do in order for Chelsea to move in with me. They had already determined that she couldnt' live with her dad anymore, cause that's where she got in trouble.
I had mixed feelings. I wanted her to be with me....no doubt about that. But she was so jaded, so rebellious, that I wasn't sure I would be able to handle her. And, as it turned out, I really couldn't handle her. Not the way I thought I was supposed to, anyway. She was acting up, being lippy, hateful, not doing what I asked her to do, and I was, many times, at my wit's end as to what to do about her. But, in my mind and my heart, I knew that I couldn't give up on her. She was my daughter! That was all there was to it! If I, as her mother, gave up on her, then who was going to stick around and believe in her. I HAD to believe in her. And so I didn't give up...I kept trying to love her, get help for her, get help for me, and hang in there.
When she was 16, in March of 2000, Chelsea's dad passed away. She was living with me at the time. I will never forget the phone call I got about it. I was working for the Convention and Visitors Bureau there in town, and I was at a meeting at one of the motels in town. I was called to the phone, which was unusual. And it turned out to be the nurse at the hospital where he had died. He had been at the doctor's office for a checkup, Stella was with him, (my youngest stepdaughter) and he just had a massive heart attack right there. By the time he was taken to the hospital, I guess he was dead. I cried on the phone, I cried because I just couldn't believe it. And I rushed home, because I wanted to be the one to tell Chelsea. But by the time I got home, she had already talked to her sister, Staci, who had told her. She was sitting on the floor, crying, and I couldn't console her. She didn't want to talk, so I just left her alone. It was the hardest thing I think she and I have gone through.
The next few days were a blur. We went over to Iola for the funeral, or to help with the arrangements. Since I was no longer Jack's wife, I felt like I didn't have much say so in what happened with him. But his kids, mostly his daughters, were very capable of taking care of everything. It was his decision to be cremated, but the family, especially his sisters, wanted to view the body. I don't know if that's unusual, but the funeral home let us see him before they sent him to be cremated. That was very hard for me, but it gave me a chance to say goodbye...to his body. I had said goodbye to him spiritually already...and have talked with him many times since then.
This seemed to be a turning point in the relationship between me and Chelsea. She realized that I was her only parent left, and I realized, not for the first time, that life is precious and can be snuffed out in a moment. Plus, that she was, and is still, very precious to me...and that I wanted to protect her and keep her close to me no matter what.
I was still drinking heavily, and even though we were getting in arguments, they weren't too bad ...yet. I love him, I thought, and we seemed to be getting along in between the arguments. I still numbed my feelings with the alcohol, escaped the parts of my life that cause me pain with the alcohol...and loudly voice my opinions to him when I had the chance. I realized that I was turning into the sort or woman that I didn't like...that I never wanted to be -loud, argumentative, vengeful, bitchy, and resentful.
We had been in that raggedy trailer for all this time. I had put up curtains, painted the walls, gotten everything going in the kitchen - the gas, etc. - and just generally tried to make it a home for us. And it was ...not bad. Cozy and comfortable, at least as much as it could be. It was my home, as much as I could make it that. I just didn't let anyone see it.
I really don't want to dwell on the fact that I was a bad mom for those few years that I was with my second husband. But I was. The times that my daughter came to visit were not good. She and I argued a lot, even though there were times that we had some good discussions and good times. She was an adolescent, and that's when they seem to know everything. Then when she came to live with us, it was still up and down with the arguments.
I do remember some good times when she had friends over. She made a friend or two at school and would bring them home. One in particular was even related to my husband, and she became a really close friend of Chelsea's. They seemed to do everything together. They had their times when they were mad at each other, but they always made up and became friends again. Amongst it all, though I remember being very tense and anxious about her, and the things she was going through. And I was still drinking at the time, too. Times like when I dropped her off at the middle school and it was raining. She walked to my place of work - about 20 blocks or so - and was standing in the front office just dripping, saying that she just didn't want to go to school that day!! I was so mad!! I took her home, tried to make her change her clothes and take her back to school. But when she refused to go to school, I felt helpless. What could I do? I couldn't physically make her go to school? I couldn't physically make her do anything! I talked to the principal - he could only do so much from his end. I talked to the police - they couldn't do much unless she had broken the law. I talked to a counselor - they couldn't do much unless Chelsea was willing to talk to them. She was very sarcastic, hateful, and uncooperative. And I just didn't know what to do.
At some point she went back to her dad's, got in trouble, and went to a group home in Pittsburg, Kansas. I think it was for mostly truancy and maybe smoking. That was obviously not allowed in her school. So I made the drive over to Pittsburg every so often, probably every other weekend, to see her. When I was there I would take her out to eat, or swimming, or shopping, or just spend some time with her. I was also trying to get sober at this time. She got out of that place, went back to live with her dad that summer, and promptly got in trouble again when school started. This time she went to a place in Columbus, Kansas. It was not quite as confining as the other one, as she went to public school there, but it was still a not very nice place for her to be. This time, when I went to see her, it seemed like she was learning her lesson, and definitely didnt' want to be there!! I think when kids realize that they don't want to be someplace like that, then they know what they have to do NOT to go there again!! I didn't feel like she was playing me, and she could easily have done that, I'm sure.
This was when I was getting sober, taking parenting classes, and doing whatever the judge wanted me to do in order for Chelsea to move in with me. They had already determined that she couldnt' live with her dad anymore, cause that's where she got in trouble.
I had mixed feelings. I wanted her to be with me....no doubt about that. But she was so jaded, so rebellious, that I wasn't sure I would be able to handle her. And, as it turned out, I really couldn't handle her. Not the way I thought I was supposed to, anyway. She was acting up, being lippy, hateful, not doing what I asked her to do, and I was, many times, at my wit's end as to what to do about her. But, in my mind and my heart, I knew that I couldn't give up on her. She was my daughter! That was all there was to it! If I, as her mother, gave up on her, then who was going to stick around and believe in her. I HAD to believe in her. And so I didn't give up...I kept trying to love her, get help for her, get help for me, and hang in there.
When she was 16, in March of 2000, Chelsea's dad passed away. She was living with me at the time. I will never forget the phone call I got about it. I was working for the Convention and Visitors Bureau there in town, and I was at a meeting at one of the motels in town. I was called to the phone, which was unusual. And it turned out to be the nurse at the hospital where he had died. He had been at the doctor's office for a checkup, Stella was with him, (my youngest stepdaughter) and he just had a massive heart attack right there. By the time he was taken to the hospital, I guess he was dead. I cried on the phone, I cried because I just couldn't believe it. And I rushed home, because I wanted to be the one to tell Chelsea. But by the time I got home, she had already talked to her sister, Staci, who had told her. She was sitting on the floor, crying, and I couldn't console her. She didn't want to talk, so I just left her alone. It was the hardest thing I think she and I have gone through.
The next few days were a blur. We went over to Iola for the funeral, or to help with the arrangements. Since I was no longer Jack's wife, I felt like I didn't have much say so in what happened with him. But his kids, mostly his daughters, were very capable of taking care of everything. It was his decision to be cremated, but the family, especially his sisters, wanted to view the body. I don't know if that's unusual, but the funeral home let us see him before they sent him to be cremated. That was very hard for me, but it gave me a chance to say goodbye...to his body. I had said goodbye to him spiritually already...and have talked with him many times since then.
This seemed to be a turning point in the relationship between me and Chelsea. She realized that I was her only parent left, and I realized, not for the first time, that life is precious and can be snuffed out in a moment. Plus, that she was, and is still, very precious to me...and that I wanted to protect her and keep her close to me no matter what.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
My leaving....
When I left my first husband, it was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do. I remember saying that to myself at the time. We had been married 16 years, we had history, and I knew that it was going to be a hard thing to do. What hurt me the most, though, was that I left my daughter behind, and that was really hard. I had envisioned she and I being together, just the two of us, even if he wasn't going to be in the picture.... I guess that was not fair to her dad. I wanted to be fair, though, so I tried not to force my feelings onto her or him. I can only imagine what this all must have been like for him at the time. He was the one who told me to leave, but he really didn't think there was anything wrong, and he really didn't think I'd do it!!
I know he had a friend to talk to about all of this...and I know he did. His friend was a man he knew from church, and had remained friends with. I didn't particularly care for the friend - I thought his views were sexist, but I know Jack thought a lot of him at the time. I did, and still do, think that everyone needs a friend during times of upheaval and crisis. I met Jack a few times to 'exchange' Chelsea, and we talked briefly at those times. But the main thing I remember thinking was that I didn't want to be around him too long, as I knew he would talk me out of staying gone. And I knew I didn't want that to happen. I was weak enough, and wobbly enough in my convictions, that I knew it wouldn't take much for him to talk me into coming back to live with him. Somehow I knew that wasn't the right thing for me. I still loved him...and would have probably gone back to him, thinking that things would be different. But I was worried about my mental health.
After I stayed with frieds for a few days, I found a little apartment on B Street there in town. It wasn't much, and my heart was hurting. I figured it would be ok for me and for Chelsea. I continued to work at the grocery store where I had a job, and my supervisor there, (the girl I had gone to Wichita with) helped me out by giving me as many hours as she could. I did ok...but not great. Meanwhile, I suppose Jack was getting by out there in the country where we lived, but was making plans to move.
Ok..my heart is hurting right now..writing this..and it's really, really hard to go back over this in my mind. I continue to blame myself for all the heartache and pain that I caused him at the time, that I caused my daughter, and that I went through too. I don't know if it was the right thing to do...I think it was, for me. But it just doesn't seem to make it right, or good, or ok. When I think about the confusion, and the anger, and the hurt....it just is so hard to even think about. I have no idea what he must have been feeling, what he must have gone through...what he must have thought of me... I know, like I said, he talked about it with a friend, but did that help? What happened to him inside? This is making me cry and hurt...and wonder...
I think what happened was that he and his older kids packed everything up out at the house in the country. I let him take care of all that...I was trying to be hands off with all that. Should I have helped? He moved all the stuff to a house in Winfield...10 miles north of the town where I lived. Chelsea decided to stay with him, which was devastating for me, on top of everything else. I wasn't expecting that...but I had to deal with it, and go with it.
What makes it hurt so much now, and made it hurt a lot then, was that we had a good marriage...up until that time, that is. We had a good time together, laughing, playing cards, dancing, holding each other, talking about everything. We had good friends, both old and new. His friends, my friends, and the friends me made together. We made it through the hard times, the times with very little money. We knew we would always have each other. We worked together through the crap that his kids put us through, the car repossessions, the evictions, the job losses,our parents, the moves...all of it. Divorce was never an option for me, as that was the way I was raised. I just figured that we would be together forever. He made me smile and laugh, with his jokes and stories. I guess...after all that, life just caught up with us, got in the way, and I..not him..but I let life and those around me influence my thinking. I let the feelings that I got from others tell me what to do in my marriage. Maybe I was wrong, I don't know. Maybe we grew apart, or I grew away from him. I'm not sure. It hurt like hell, but I knew, or thought I knew, that I didn't want to be with him anymore.
And so...my drinking escalated. Not because of Chelsea being with him, although I'm sure that didn't help. It was everything taken together, I suppose, I continued to have liasons with a few men, continued to drink, and thought I was doing allright. After all, I was on my own, wasn't I? I was away from the man and the situation that had made me crazy, right??
I found out that the brother of the man I was having an affair with was single, and he recommended that I maybe see him, or date him. I said, sure...why not? I really didn't think it would happen, but one night he (the brother, Jeff) ended up on my doorstep. I had my daughter with me at the time. He asked if I had a beer (he had been at the bar) and I said no. I was suspicious. Then he asked if I had a glass of water. What could I say, I thought? So I let him in..and we talked. He told me a bunch of his favorite jokes, and I had a good time talking to him. Of course Chelsea was in the next room, sleeping. I think he probably stayed over that night, which is indicative of the kind of woman I was....no scruples. It wasn't long after that, a few days, I guess, that Chelsea and I had to go out of town for a long weekend, and Jeff asked if he could 'camp out' in my place while I was gone. He was just renting a room in some guy's house, and my place was more suitable for him. I said yea....I figured it would be ok.
Looking back, I know I made him out, and the relationship, to be something he wasn't, and it wasn't. He was looking for a woman to take care of him, cause he was basically lazy and didn't want to exert himself. I know that now...but I didn't know it then. I wish I had....but my rose-colored glasses told me differently.
After a few weeks of seeing him, in which I thought I was having a good time, I let him move in. We talked, laughed, drank, and had good sex together....I thought, what the hell? He's not an asshole, he comes home every night, and he contributes money to the household. I couldn't ask for much more, could I? He got along ok with Chelsea, but then that was the least of my worries. She wasn't there all the time...this had to be hard for her, too.
I got a job at a book publishing company later that year, and I thought I was really doing well. It was in the office, and I did ok for a while. But then they decided they didn't need me there, and, instead of just letting me go, they found a spot for me in the factory part of the company, collating books. It was ok...not what I wanted, but it was a job.
Meanwhile, I kept drinking, and kept seeing the man that I had been having an affair with. I couldn't seem to stop that....we were actually developing a relationship, although I knew he would never leave his wife. I drank beer, malt liquor, wine, and thought I was doing ok. I felt happy in my little apartment, felt like life was good cause I had a good man (?) and I had a good job. What did it hurt if I drank a little now and then. Jeff did too, didn't he?? We had a good time together, and that's all that mattered now. He went to work every day, at a beef slaughtering plant in another town, came home every night, and sometimes we would go out. Or we might stay in and watch tv. He loved it when I cooked, took care of things, and I thought he was the best guy I'd ever had!!
We acquired some fish and some birds, all in that little apartment. It was at this time, looking back, that I realize that I was again letting go of myself and letting myself be molded into what another person wanted me to be. I began to like the things he liked, dislike the things he disliked, doing the things he did, and not doin the things he didn't want to do. I don't know where that comes from...I really don't. I didn't think my parents raised me to be that way, nor did I see my mother do that with my dad. I just did it....not even knowing that I was doing it! But looking back now, I see that that's exactly what happened.
He loved to watch football and gamble on it. He also wanted to raise some fighting chickens and fight them as well. We watched football in my apartment, and he did some gambling there, but that was all. But after about 6 months of being togther, he said he had found a place that we could move into. I know he'd been talking to the guy that he got a ride to work with every day. It was his, Dave's, place...and Jeff thought it would be a good place to raise his fightin cocks. He talked to me about it, and I went over to look at it. It was awful...really it was. But I was so in love with being in love, that I over looked the awfulness of it, and told him I thought I could make it into a home.
It was a raggedy trailer, on the edge of town, that had an old abandoned house next to it. It was the house that had been on that property years ago, and had trash, fallen plaster, old appliances, and holes all over. The trailer was small - 12 by 60, I think - had a sand point for the water, and gas for heat. (A sandpoint. That is long (30 foot) pipe that goes into the ground, with a pointed end on it. The point has holes in it, and thus the water in the sandy ground, on which we lived, could go into the sandpoint, and then be sucked up through the pipe by an electric water pump. That's all we had for water....it was fine when it was working, but anytime the electricity went off, or the pump quit working, we were shit out of luck. And both of those things happened with more frequency than I care to admit. I swore that would never happen to me again.)I guess everything was working at the time, and I didn't even pay attention to what the dangers might be. It also had about 5 acres with it, which was obviously the attraction for Jeff. It had stone steps leading up to the rickety wooden porch. And not NICE stone steps...just big rocks that had been put there to step on. But all this I over looked...what an idiot I was!! I wasn't even thinking about what Chelsea might think.....she was busy living with her father at this point, and I only saw her every other weekend.
I really hate to admit it, but at this point I probably wasn't thinking about my daughter like I should have been. As I said, I was in love with being in love. (I'm shaking my head as I write this...what an idiot I was!) Now I know that she should have been the most important thing in my life at the time....and that carries a lot of guilt with it as well....I let her go, both physically and mentally...and maybe even emotionally.
So, we moved into this trailer....it didn't take long. I think I did most of the moving...as usual, he didn't lift a finger.
I know he had a friend to talk to about all of this...and I know he did. His friend was a man he knew from church, and had remained friends with. I didn't particularly care for the friend - I thought his views were sexist, but I know Jack thought a lot of him at the time. I did, and still do, think that everyone needs a friend during times of upheaval and crisis. I met Jack a few times to 'exchange' Chelsea, and we talked briefly at those times. But the main thing I remember thinking was that I didn't want to be around him too long, as I knew he would talk me out of staying gone. And I knew I didn't want that to happen. I was weak enough, and wobbly enough in my convictions, that I knew it wouldn't take much for him to talk me into coming back to live with him. Somehow I knew that wasn't the right thing for me. I still loved him...and would have probably gone back to him, thinking that things would be different. But I was worried about my mental health.
After I stayed with frieds for a few days, I found a little apartment on B Street there in town. It wasn't much, and my heart was hurting. I figured it would be ok for me and for Chelsea. I continued to work at the grocery store where I had a job, and my supervisor there, (the girl I had gone to Wichita with) helped me out by giving me as many hours as she could. I did ok...but not great. Meanwhile, I suppose Jack was getting by out there in the country where we lived, but was making plans to move.
Ok..my heart is hurting right now..writing this..and it's really, really hard to go back over this in my mind. I continue to blame myself for all the heartache and pain that I caused him at the time, that I caused my daughter, and that I went through too. I don't know if it was the right thing to do...I think it was, for me. But it just doesn't seem to make it right, or good, or ok. When I think about the confusion, and the anger, and the hurt....it just is so hard to even think about. I have no idea what he must have been feeling, what he must have gone through...what he must have thought of me... I know, like I said, he talked about it with a friend, but did that help? What happened to him inside? This is making me cry and hurt...and wonder...
I think what happened was that he and his older kids packed everything up out at the house in the country. I let him take care of all that...I was trying to be hands off with all that. Should I have helped? He moved all the stuff to a house in Winfield...10 miles north of the town where I lived. Chelsea decided to stay with him, which was devastating for me, on top of everything else. I wasn't expecting that...but I had to deal with it, and go with it.
What makes it hurt so much now, and made it hurt a lot then, was that we had a good marriage...up until that time, that is. We had a good time together, laughing, playing cards, dancing, holding each other, talking about everything. We had good friends, both old and new. His friends, my friends, and the friends me made together. We made it through the hard times, the times with very little money. We knew we would always have each other. We worked together through the crap that his kids put us through, the car repossessions, the evictions, the job losses,our parents, the moves...all of it. Divorce was never an option for me, as that was the way I was raised. I just figured that we would be together forever. He made me smile and laugh, with his jokes and stories. I guess...after all that, life just caught up with us, got in the way, and I..not him..but I let life and those around me influence my thinking. I let the feelings that I got from others tell me what to do in my marriage. Maybe I was wrong, I don't know. Maybe we grew apart, or I grew away from him. I'm not sure. It hurt like hell, but I knew, or thought I knew, that I didn't want to be with him anymore.
And so...my drinking escalated. Not because of Chelsea being with him, although I'm sure that didn't help. It was everything taken together, I suppose, I continued to have liasons with a few men, continued to drink, and thought I was doing allright. After all, I was on my own, wasn't I? I was away from the man and the situation that had made me crazy, right??
I found out that the brother of the man I was having an affair with was single, and he recommended that I maybe see him, or date him. I said, sure...why not? I really didn't think it would happen, but one night he (the brother, Jeff) ended up on my doorstep. I had my daughter with me at the time. He asked if I had a beer (he had been at the bar) and I said no. I was suspicious. Then he asked if I had a glass of water. What could I say, I thought? So I let him in..and we talked. He told me a bunch of his favorite jokes, and I had a good time talking to him. Of course Chelsea was in the next room, sleeping. I think he probably stayed over that night, which is indicative of the kind of woman I was....no scruples. It wasn't long after that, a few days, I guess, that Chelsea and I had to go out of town for a long weekend, and Jeff asked if he could 'camp out' in my place while I was gone. He was just renting a room in some guy's house, and my place was more suitable for him. I said yea....I figured it would be ok.
Looking back, I know I made him out, and the relationship, to be something he wasn't, and it wasn't. He was looking for a woman to take care of him, cause he was basically lazy and didn't want to exert himself. I know that now...but I didn't know it then. I wish I had....but my rose-colored glasses told me differently.
After a few weeks of seeing him, in which I thought I was having a good time, I let him move in. We talked, laughed, drank, and had good sex together....I thought, what the hell? He's not an asshole, he comes home every night, and he contributes money to the household. I couldn't ask for much more, could I? He got along ok with Chelsea, but then that was the least of my worries. She wasn't there all the time...this had to be hard for her, too.
I got a job at a book publishing company later that year, and I thought I was really doing well. It was in the office, and I did ok for a while. But then they decided they didn't need me there, and, instead of just letting me go, they found a spot for me in the factory part of the company, collating books. It was ok...not what I wanted, but it was a job.
Meanwhile, I kept drinking, and kept seeing the man that I had been having an affair with. I couldn't seem to stop that....we were actually developing a relationship, although I knew he would never leave his wife. I drank beer, malt liquor, wine, and thought I was doing ok. I felt happy in my little apartment, felt like life was good cause I had a good man (?) and I had a good job. What did it hurt if I drank a little now and then. Jeff did too, didn't he?? We had a good time together, and that's all that mattered now. He went to work every day, at a beef slaughtering plant in another town, came home every night, and sometimes we would go out. Or we might stay in and watch tv. He loved it when I cooked, took care of things, and I thought he was the best guy I'd ever had!!
We acquired some fish and some birds, all in that little apartment. It was at this time, looking back, that I realize that I was again letting go of myself and letting myself be molded into what another person wanted me to be. I began to like the things he liked, dislike the things he disliked, doing the things he did, and not doin the things he didn't want to do. I don't know where that comes from...I really don't. I didn't think my parents raised me to be that way, nor did I see my mother do that with my dad. I just did it....not even knowing that I was doing it! But looking back now, I see that that's exactly what happened.
He loved to watch football and gamble on it. He also wanted to raise some fighting chickens and fight them as well. We watched football in my apartment, and he did some gambling there, but that was all. But after about 6 months of being togther, he said he had found a place that we could move into. I know he'd been talking to the guy that he got a ride to work with every day. It was his, Dave's, place...and Jeff thought it would be a good place to raise his fightin cocks. He talked to me about it, and I went over to look at it. It was awful...really it was. But I was so in love with being in love, that I over looked the awfulness of it, and told him I thought I could make it into a home.
It was a raggedy trailer, on the edge of town, that had an old abandoned house next to it. It was the house that had been on that property years ago, and had trash, fallen plaster, old appliances, and holes all over. The trailer was small - 12 by 60, I think - had a sand point for the water, and gas for heat. (A sandpoint. That is long (30 foot) pipe that goes into the ground, with a pointed end on it. The point has holes in it, and thus the water in the sandy ground, on which we lived, could go into the sandpoint, and then be sucked up through the pipe by an electric water pump. That's all we had for water....it was fine when it was working, but anytime the electricity went off, or the pump quit working, we were shit out of luck. And both of those things happened with more frequency than I care to admit. I swore that would never happen to me again.)I guess everything was working at the time, and I didn't even pay attention to what the dangers might be. It also had about 5 acres with it, which was obviously the attraction for Jeff. It had stone steps leading up to the rickety wooden porch. And not NICE stone steps...just big rocks that had been put there to step on. But all this I over looked...what an idiot I was!! I wasn't even thinking about what Chelsea might think.....she was busy living with her father at this point, and I only saw her every other weekend.
I really hate to admit it, but at this point I probably wasn't thinking about my daughter like I should have been. As I said, I was in love with being in love. (I'm shaking my head as I write this...what an idiot I was!) Now I know that she should have been the most important thing in my life at the time....and that carries a lot of guilt with it as well....I let her go, both physically and mentally...and maybe even emotionally.
So, we moved into this trailer....it didn't take long. I think I did most of the moving...as usual, he didn't lift a finger.
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