The Last Year and a Half
A year and a half ago, I was living in my apartment with my dog. I had just recently discovered this community. Then, my internet quit working. It was a very busy time in my life as I was nearing the end of graduate school, so I canceled my internet. Just a little over three months after that, I found myself moving into a duplex in a different neighborhood of my city. My graduate teaching assistant position came to an end. However, a research position was offered to me. Right after I moved, I was thrown into a very demanding job that officially ran the duration of 2 1/2 months, but technically was really only a little over two weeks. That summer I was feeling chaos as I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing with my thesis and finding no help whatsoever. I finished what I felt like I could, but I felt stuck. To make matters worse, my advisor was going on hiatus in the fall and had not mentioned the fact to me. Slowly over time, I have come to the decision that I am not going to finish my thesis. It is frustrating because I finished somewhere around 95-98% of the degree, yet I will never achieve it.
While I was away for the research position, I met someone online. About two weeks after the position ended, I was adjusting to no school, no work, and a new home. He asked to meet, and I agreed. It quickly grew into something serious. It was not a healthy relationship in the least. He had a severe case of bipolar disorder (mental health professionals acknowledged he was among the most extreme cases they had ever seen) as well as several other mental health issues. After three months, he attacked me for the first time. He kicked, punched, and choked me. I was left with a black eye. I now realize that the only reason I gave him another chance is because I was not feeling myself already due to the problems with school. But I did, and a few weeks later he hit me again. I had told him if he ever hit me a second time, our relationship would be over. I rationalized my staying with him because he didn't actually punch me, he just knocked me down. It was only a few weeks again before he attacked me a third time. In the early morning hours after Christmas. I had spent Christmas day away from my family for the first time because he didn't have anyone else to be with. I worked several hours on a non-traditional Christmas dinner. We watched movies that night.
I won't go into the details here, but what he did to begin the series of events that night was unspeakable. I have never been treated so lowly as that. Rarely does a person humiliate and degrade another human in such a manner. When I told him our relationship was over, he attacked me. He put me in a double choke hold and pulled me to the ground. I remember distinctly the thought that ran through my mind. "So this is how it's going to happen. I am going to die on Christmas night by him choking me. I bet he kills my dog and cat after he kills me."
Then, something snapped in my mind. I did NOT want to die yet. I was NOT going to let him kill me. And I sure as hell was NOT going to let him kill my animals. (I am mostly an animal empath, after all.) I thanked my ex-boyfriend for making me watch wrestling those years ago and kicked my way out of the choke hold. I am sure that he gave up once I started fighting back too. I quickly weighed my options. My phone was in the bedroom, and if I ran to get it, he would surely just attack me again. So I ran out the door, across the cold ground wearing a cami and shorts with nothing on my feet. My neighbors called the police. I ran back home to their surprise. I was picturing him killing my babies and I wasn't letting that happen. What I found was him standing at my medicine drawer taking somewhere between 30 and 50 aspirin. He then took the remaining pills left of his prozac as well as the rest of my Excedrin Migraine. Probably about 10 each. Police arrived and shortly after, EMTs. He was taken to the hospital.
And yet, I stayed with him while he was in the hospital. He was in the ICU for about 4 days. Then he had to stay in the psych ward for another 4 days. He was lucky he wasn't sent somewhere far away. Because he was able to stay in town, I visited him as often as I could. He was put on several medications. He had to attend many different types of counseling. They even had us in a session together. He promised that he was better and that he was committed to being a better person. I told him I had a feeling it would last about 3 weeks. He was very upset that I would think that, and said he would prove that it would last longer.
Twenty-six days later he left. And even after he was gone, he treated me like crap. Then begged me to take him back. Finally, I asked him to quit contacting me. It took three times, but he finally stopped texting and calling four months ago.
You would think I would learn my lesson.
While he was still contacting me, I met someone else. Someone who was living with a woman who believed they were a couple, but told me they were just roommates. Then he introduced us and we learned the truth from each other. He manipulated his way into staying with me. The crazy laws in this city don't allow a person to kick another person out if they have been staying there longer than a week. Even if the person isn't on the lease. So I had to wait 7 weeks for him to finally save enough money to get out of my home.
I truly feel that both of these guys could somehow tell I was an empath and used me as much as they could. Once they were both gone (the end of May), I began to heal. I am now feeling back to myself. Happy to be single and working on my own life.
By the way, the abusive ex had court a few weeks ago. He got 2 years probation and was ordered not to contact me. And has to take domestic violence classes. I feel vindicated.
PS. I just got internet hooked up yesterday! Glad to be back.