I moved out of my parent's house into an apartment with D-Bag in August of 2000. I paid the security deposit- all of it. First, last, and an additional month's rent. It cleaned out my savings completely. By December, I was a basket case.
D-Bag was even more controlling, and even if I could have gotten a job, he forbid me to have one. He was emotionally and physically abusive. I drank heavily, and used food to help me feel better.
He had changed jobs, and was now working an overnight shift for a printing company. He came home smelly and covered in ink. Then he'd get into bed, sans shower. He did 10,000 things that annoyed the piss out of me, other than how he treated me.
When I said I needed to loose weight (at 210 lbs, being only 5'4", this was no longer a vanity thing, my heath was seriously at risk), he attempted to undermine my efforts constantly by bringing food into the house that was not on my diet plan. He'd also use verbal abuse. "Why do you want to loose weight? Oh, I know, so you can go be a whore." I kept at it anyway. I lost about 3 lbs a week, and eventually got down to 135. Now, I was "too skinny to have sex with". Um, excuse me, before you knocked me up, asshole, I was 115.
By May, I was done. I couldn't take any more. I moved out on TJ's 2nd birthday, back to my parents. It was the best decision I ever made for myself and TJ, and I'll never regret it. The only thing I regret is that it took me so long to get the balls to just leave.
I started a relationship with someone I thought was Mr. Wonderful. He loved me, he loved TJ, and I thought it would last forever. We went through a lot of shit, much of it involving drug abuse, and I'm not really that proud of this time in my life. Mr. Wonderful ended up in jail. I stuck with him, but when he came out, things just were not the same. He couldn't give up the habit, and his old lifestyle. I had moved on, and grown up. Eventually, he left me. It was completely random, and I was not expecting it at all. He went to his required substance abuse group meeting, and just disappeared after that. I couldn't find him anywhere. A week later, he called me, and told me he was picking up his stuff from my apartment. I was so angry, I didn't even know what to do. I couldn't believe he'd done this. It wasn't just about me, it was about TJ, too, who had grown up with this guy acting as a father-figure. And now, he was just going to leave after five years? Whatever.
I found out a week later that I was pregnant. We hadn't been trying, but we hadn't been avoiding it, either. I didn't bother to tell Mr. Wonderful the news. I didn't think he deserved to be in this baby's life at all. A week after, I started having painful cramps, and heavy bleeding. I went to the ER, where they told me I was miscarrying. There was nothing they could do. They were sorry. The baby's heart rate was in the 30's, and slowly dropping. The placenta had attached to my uterine scar, and it was starting to peel away from it. All they could do was offer me "something to help it along", and give me some Vicodin for the pain. My other option was a D&C. I opted for the medicinal method, took the Vicodin, went home, and went into a miserable depression.
I ended up bleeding for over a month. I got horribly sick, but continued my "I don't give a fuck" lifestyle. I worked 2 jobs, I drank, I danced, and I decided to treat every man that happened to cross my path like they treat women. Completely disposable and meaningless. For a time, this worked out wonderfully... Well, as great as it could have, anyway. I met GW, and I really liked him, but vowed not to let things get too serious. Ever. He was recently divorced, and essentially, I was too. Neither of us wanted anything more than a casual relationship, and both of us were seeing multiple partners (safely, I might add).
I was still sick a couple of months later. I went to the ER again, to be told that I now had mono and I was again severely anemic. I had to tell my partners about this, but as luck would have it, all my man-pets had already gotten mono before. So it was no big deal.
Somewhere, something changed, and I'm not sure when exactly that happened. GW was spending every weekend at my apartment, 2 1/2 hours from where he lived and worked. I don't remember when I had stopped seeing other guys. We talked on the phone almost nightly, except for the couple of times where he had a bit of a freak-out and made himself not call me. That didn't work, because eventually, I'd call him and ask what he was up to, would he like to see me? I was available, but I would make other plans if he was too busy for a visit.
In April (?) he invited me to go up to his family's camp with him. We hadn't expected anyone to be there, but his father and step-mom had also decided to spend the weekend. So we got drunk with his parents. We decided to take their 4-wheeler up to the top of the mountain. The moon was a strange shade of lavender-pink. The peepers were screaming- it was almost deafening. GW turned around to face me, and told me he had something he needed to tell me. "Great," I thought, "he's gonna dump me on the top of this mountain. He hates me, and doesn't really want to see me again. I'm not his kind of girl, etc., etc.".
He said "I love you".
This was one of the biggest moments of my life. It changed it forever.
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