A World Without Money!

I remember walking back from my school one fine afternoon. There was a street vendor, standing under his multicolored umbrella, selling the most tempting savouries. Spirited, I ran towards him and…

独家优惠奖金 100% 高达 1 BTC + 180 免费旋转

Hiding In Plain Sight

From the beginning I knew we were two pieces of one whole being. John was my soulmate, best friend and confidant. We were young, only 14, and he broke my tender heart. That memory was like a crystal I hid in the deepest part of my heart, then life went on.

I jumped into an unhappy marriage, had a daughter, and divorced. While being single for almost a decade with so many relationship letdowns, I was done. I gave it all to God.

I’m done looking, Lord. If it’s in Your will, or not, so be it.

Three months after this prayer, I was beyond amazed when I received a letter from HIM, my first true love, John. He explained why he broke my heart 30 years ago and asked if we might have a second chance.

“I want you to know that I loved you very much and actually adored you. I loved everything about you. You were the most beautiful, loving, kind, compassionate and sweetest girl I ever met.”

I couldn’t believe this man, the love of my life, never stopped loving me.

I laid the letter on the floor and started to cry, knowing this was no random act. Through my walk with God, my prayers were answered, and I knew He allowed this miracle to happen.

With excited butterflies swirling in my belly, I took a chance, found the phone number to call him. What an amazing connection it was, and we talked on the phone daily for hours, while he shared details of his life.

“One time the beating was so severe as a little kid, face down in the carpet, I counted each piece of carpet fiber. I couldn’t figure out why my Dad hated me so much, physically and mentally abusing me from the age of 3. I didn’t know he was my stepdad till I was 18 since my birth certificate was altered.” My breath catches: I had no idea this was happening back in 1978.

“My stepdad did all kinds of shit to me including the day you came over to visit. He threatened to do something to hurt you and truly embarrass me if I didn’t end our relationship. He saw how happy I was and hated it. From prior threats I knew what he could do, and I wouldn’t subject you to that. That’s why I ended it with you.”

Tears streamed down my face. My heart broke for him and now I understood.

In and out of psychiatric and substance abuse facilities, he shared his brokenness and hopelessness, including thoughts of suicide. Searching through the gun ads in his 20’s, he stopped, remembering our love and decided, No, that’s not what Victoria would want you to do. “You saved my life,” he said.

Now, after many years, he was on a good path, finishing up a two-year in-patient program to get him back on his feet.

After a month of phone calls, we decided to reconnect in person, I would be leaving Reno NV to see my true love in San Diego.

Only 24 hours till I saw him, and my body vibrated with anticipation; my heart danced to its own joyful beat. Imagining our meeting, I pictured myself rushing out of the plane, racing through the terminal and jumping into John’s arms.

While I reached up to feel a slow blush fill my face, my cell buzzed, interrupting the fantasy. It was mom’s home nurse in San Diego. “Your Mom had a cardiac episode and may not survive the night. She’s on life support.”

Utter disbelief shattered me. I’m supposed to see her tomorrow and reintroduce her to John … Oh my God, why is this happening now?

The soul wrenching jangle of the phone at 11:23 pm confirmed my fears. Mom was gone.

Anticipation for the connection with John was now interlaced with Mom’s death and near dawn I was up ready for the flight. Alternating between grief and joy, I headed to San Diego.

Upon landing and entering the airport, I was suddenly grabbed from behind, swung around and hugged so tightly I could barely breathe. It’s him, it’s really him. It’s John. I’m finally in my true love’s arms. He pulled me back, taking in my face, then hugged me over and over. There was an instant electrifying connection that couldn’t be denied.

Elation and grief mingled in my torn-up heart. Yet suddenly, like a bright ray of light shining down from the clouds, a realization filled my heart: Mom left me a gift. By leaving me her home, she’s allowed me to move back to San Diego and begin a new life with my love.

************

What an idyllic time that was, reconnecting with John, and now sharing our lives together. I know it was God’s gentle nudge that brought us together and while He had a plan, I had no idea the affect of John’s mental struggles would have on us. I read somewhere, “If God doesn’t fix the situation, He’s using the situation to fix you.” Keeping the faith is all I have now as I ride this rollercoaster on our life’s roadmap. Get me off. How do I care for myself yet stand by John’s side as a partner and biggest supporter? Even with medication some situations still send him into an anxiety driven panic. It can be a smell, visual trigger, anything. So here I sit watching the waves of panic and dizziness take over and shake my husband to his core. The familiar fear worms its way into my belly, twisting it into continuous knots.

Some ask, “What are you doing for you?” How do I answer that? I need to help him and hold it all together. Put your oxygen mask on first before helping others they say, but if your husband is gasping, dying in front of you, how in the HELL are you supposed to do that?

“Sure, yes, it’s all good over here,” I lie, telling my mother-in-law on the phone, claiming John isn’t home. I glance over at John in bed whimpering nonstop and continue, “Yes, I’ll call again in a few days … of course, we love you too.”

Hanging up, I take a huge breath, and attempt to give John words of encouragement and understanding. “Breathe, work on visuals from your therapy.”

But he continues to rock back and forth, whimpering and speaking unintelligible words over and over. “Please,” he implores shakily, “Make this go away, make this shit in my head STOP.”

Dear Lord, please show me what to do. What in the world did I get into? Is this an ongoing thing or does it get better? I just wanted my fucking prince charming to sweep me off my feet! Why am I sweeping him off the floor?

Falling headfirst into a big black abyss, I’m frayed at the edges, parts tearing and threatening to fall off my weary body, to reveal my brokenness.

Since relocating back to San Diego, I haven’t made new friends, and I have no one to lean on. It wouldn’t matter. No one seems to understand saying, “Get over it, just stop those thoughts in your head?” It’s just me and John against the world.

No, actually now it’s me against the world, and the world is winning.

Am I really cut out for this? I’ve never dealt with mental illness or substance abuse. Ever. What the fuck? How can I give him support? Sure, I’ve done the research and sat in on therapy appointments, yet I feel helpless.

Pulling myself together, I wipe away the tears, and decide to get out of the house. “Honey,” I shake him gently, “I’m going to the store and I’ll be right back.” His whimpering and rocking continue. No answer.

Weariness bears down on me as I amble towards the car. While driving, I see people smile and laugh, seemingly without a care in the world. Jealousy and bitterness rear their ugly heads.

Pulling into the parking lot, I numbly sit in the car, feeling invisible. Can’t they see my terror, my exhaustion? John phrases it, “hiding in plain sight.” It makes sense now.

Getting out and walking through the parking lot, I see a car coming towards me. Slowing my pace for a minute I think, please hit me so I can stop caregiving, get care myself and leave this fucking nightmare behind.

Wow, back in reality, I shake my head. How can I think this, what’s wrong with me? I’m such a mess. Maybe it’s time I talk to someone and get help. I read about codependency where you help too much. Is that what I’m doing? It’s horrible for him and I need to be there and be strong. But again, who in the hell gets what I’m going through? I picture myself jumping up and down with my hand plunging into the air, screaming WHAT ABOUT ME? WHAT ABOUT ME?

I can’t do it anymore.

Something needs to give; I need to seek my own help while clarifying boundaries. My husband needs to get long-term help. I’ll get him into a facility, then get my own help. I will not go down the rabbit hole with him again. I hear God’s voice, “It’s okay to ask for help.”

I can do this; I can do this. Slowly walking back to the car, I get in, pick up my cell and with hands shaking, dial.

“Hello, my husband needs in-patient treatment ASAP. Please help.”

A World Without Money!

Hiding In Plain Sight

Add a comment

Related posts:

Why does Sri Lanka need attention as much as Ukraine?

Asymmetric vs Symmetric Routing

How to Clone Marijuana for Professional Growers