chunks of flommus
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toxicity

becoming i CHAPTER 4

I want for the realization to hit. For the care to come over what their actions caused. After what happened the night of September 5, I went on to work.

I spent the whole day in a daze. I remember getting off work and driving off.

Two hours on no sleep just to somewhere I could find peace.

I spent an hour on the phone with my best friend proclaiming I only wanted to wither away. She said she would not let me wither away.

On the way back, I drove to the promise of flowers and time to spend together. Although I got the call from my mother which turned into an argument.

I walked into the door returning to the home I once lived in that now become home to one of my worst memories. He sat on the couch dressed up in a brown button up. I looked at him. He said he was going out for drinks with friends.

I flew up the stairs. The hysterics took over. I fell to the floor of the room cradled knees into my arms. I cried. He walked in. And I shuddered, “after what you put me through last night? You promised we would have a night together. You promised flowers.”

All I could hear was my voice shrieking. He stayed after that. We went to the store.

I remember we got was a horror movie because it’s all I wanted to watch. I wanted to be in a place that wasn’t where I was at that moment. I fell asleep.

And for months our back and forth relationship continued on. The toxicity grew. I remember calling a night I was left alone. He was drunk. And all I wanted to do was end my life because here I came almost 6 years in journey to have only fallen in love with someone who eventually raped me.

This was October of last year. I got through. But November came. Seeing my mother on the floor in a state of disarray is still in my mind. I could do nothing but be a witness to what I saw.

The pain of the shrieks I cried that night still cut into my heart.

alley_mom2

As my mother’s death took over my life – as a blanket of confusion and finding my way – I’ve spent the last year clutching to the only person who really knew her in California.

This was my love. This was the man that raped me.

What you need to know is that I am not inclined to hide the things shamefully I did this year.

I remember the night before we had to pull my mother off life support – sending text after text – angry because he chose not to be at the hospital when he said he would come. His drunk words wouldn’t grasp my mom was dead.

“She’s gone”
“Don’t say that.”

He made it the night we took her off life support.

I remember lying in her arms on that hospital bed, it took me a moment but I awoke looking into his brown eyes and he said “she’s with tiny now.”

No feeling can replace how right those words were in that moment. Those probably were the only ones I could find any comfort it.

This did not change anything. Even the birth of his best friends child a week later at the same hospital did not change anything.

When I say it didn’t change anything I mean it didn’t change our past or anything that lead us to where we were. I wish it had that power to take it all away.

Truly I tried living on, the best I could, like our lives would now see our point of returning to one another. I couldn’t.

I reached out for other relationships. Back and forth extensive fights. Nights of pain and crying.
To a Disneyland trip for our families. That even then the influence of alcohol haunted me and created a riff.

A passive aggressive fight about flower ears because I felt unheard and undermined. He tried to find me the ears I so wanted, and I just ignored his attempt.

In these last months it’s been the hardest. I became more capable and because of that I didn’t want to waste more time. I didn’t want to struggle through the battle anymore.

I’d get SO angry because I couldn’t control his drinking. I’d get so upset because he would ignore me because I tried more and more abrasively to get it to stop. Only I was driving the car further and further away somehow I thought I was getting closer.

I called him a rapist. I called him an alcoholic. I dug up his past. I begged. I pleaded. I yelled.

dertung_toxicmor

I became so consumed. I called him a monster. All the while I was becoming my own.

In moments of clarity I would cry and say how “you must understand I don’t want to be this way.”

Only I would continue. The last thing I told him was that his mother gave him up for adoption because she knew he was a piece of shit.

No one knows but me how much those words burn my own mouth. They came out as he told me he still loved me but began dating another girl.

I didn’t know but the ignoring began again after another night we spent together. Which always still feels like he just used me for sex.

So I set out on these posts to get out all of this that has been eating me up with no response from the one I wish would.

Although I thought he wouldn’t find them he did. He set out to undermine the healing to say “why the fuck would you post shit like that?”

It took him saying I was going to fuck up my sister to take that comment about his adoption out of my vault I held because I knew it wasn’t truth but it was the one thing I could say to hurt him.

I was so tired of being hurt. I was so exhausted.

And we haven’t even discussed the woman he let call me a cunt on Christmas or her husband who he let put his hands around my head and mouth.

I’ve stood alone in this last year, and these are all the demons I’ve battled. Coming face to face with my own demon in myself who in wounded moments will say anything to hurt the ones surrounding unless it feels safety.

But I haven’t felt safe. Not once in this last year.

—alley scheffki