Opening up about 2017.

CW: Talks of suicide, Relationship, Abuse

My apartment in Portland

Almost exactly three years ago to the day was when I was lifting up my entire life and moving halfway around the world. I haven’t really talked about it much in detail because it’s a super hard thing to talk about. Was it a rash decision? maybe? Do I regret it? Not sure? But I did it and I feel okay about living in another country for almost a year even though it wasn’t ideal at all. I did make one of the closest friendships so that is always a plus.

So I’m gonna talk about what I had to give up when I moved- because I know that a lot of people judged the fuck out of me- and that’s fine. But like- shit happens for a reason sometimes right? Sometimes it’s not about what’s best for me. Now sure- I did have to give up most of my belongings but that was honestly perfectly fine. I’ve learned since then to live more minimally and I feel like it takes a lot to get to that point in life. I collected SO MANY things and I was always so attached to them. But now that they’re gone I barely remember them.

I also had to give up on a lot of friendships. These parts of things I had to give up will get increasingly more difficult. So yeah, this was HARD AF because I had made some of the most wonderful, closest relationships in Portland— and now they don’t exist anymore and it still to this day breaks my heart. I will always cherish those friendships but I also wish that things could be neutral or good between us because y’all I loved them with my whole entire heart.

THE most horrible thing I had to do whenever moving away was re-homing my little Bella girl. Joel and I had her for about a year and had been working really hard on training and rehabilitating her. She was still HELLA afraid of riding in a vehicle or loud noises like that. Joel was moving to China and I was moving to Amsterdam so Sprocket ended up being the only one who was able to fly with me. Bella would have never been able to handle the car ride/airplane ride so instead of being a selfish twat— I decided to work with the rescue I got her from and find her a new perfect home. She ended up going to a family with kids and dogs and a huge yard and they went camping all the time and it just seemed like that was a much better life for her than coming with me on an unknown journey. She was a fragile rescue and she needed stability and structure in her life. It’s still super hard for me to talk about because she was the best. But I made a choice and I still feel like it was the best option even though it’s my biggest regret. Because even if she would have come to the Netherlands with me she would have been miserable in a tiny apartment with already two dogs and not to mention all the abusive yelling bullshit and chaos that surrounded us on a daily basis.

The last photo I ever took of Bella.

Bella with her new family <3

Bella and her new fam.

I knew I had a lot to brace for within that relationship the first week that I was there. I was Incredibly depressed and had gotten off that ‘moving’ high. I also had weened myself off of medication- which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best LOL- but I also didn’t know how I’d get a prescription once I was there. Needless to say I was kind of a bummer lol. But I mean come on- I gave up a little piece of my heart to all of the things I had just given up and now I was trying to repair that damage. I was somewhat broken after everything because there was so many bad vibes surrounding a lot of the people and surroundings that had to deal with all of it. His parents hated me. My former best friends were like rolleye emojis at me and we got into fights and I was angry so that was that. My other best friend and partner in life- Joel was moving to China. Everything felt out of control. And now I was sitting in this apartment in the Netherlands and wondering if it was even real life. I was sad. I was mourning. And now I had someone sitting on the other side of the table that expected me to be sweet and kind and happy. But I wasn’t. And it fired something up within him. During the first week I was there he punched a wall and broke his hand. I grabbed Sprocket and ran down the three flights of stairs. I had a key but I don’t even think I really knew how to use it at this point. He and I walked to the nearest park to calm down. I picked a flower and took a photo of it and I felt happiness. I also knew at that moment that I probably fucked up. That I put too much faith in this person that I was now living with. I’m hard headed though. I wanted to prove to myself and to everyone else that it wasn’t just for nothing— and besides— did I really have a choice? I was stuck there.

So I made the best of it. I thought that maybe this love had to be taken care of to grow. I did my best. I continued therapy appointments. I talked to my friends about things. I tried with every inch of my being to make it work. I kept thinking about how I didn’t want ‘them’ to say ‘I told you so’. I wanted to scream and cry knowing they were right. That I believed in something magical. That I believed love would overcome all. That I knew in every inch of my body that it was meant to be with him. I would have done anything. I did do everything. But we were like oil and water. Things would mix and seem okay but then it settled and it was bad. Bad bad bad bad. I began to resent him. Sprocket hated him. He guarded me all the time and HATED that he was forced to sleep in the other room on a dog bed. He would sneak in at night and quietly get into bed with me on the other side away from HIM. I cried because I wanted my dog. He yelled because I didn’t want HIM. I missed feeling like I was in a home.

Photo taken alone in the park

I missed everything and I hated everything. I thought about ways that I wanted to end things. Thinking about how I just wanted it to end. Everyone was right. I was a failure and a stupid girl that had hope in love. I lost everything and gained little. Now I know that now—I didn’t lose EVERYTHING but that’s just how it felt at the time. And then I just gave up. I’d run after HIM up the steps and I remember once it was raining outside and he tried to shut the door on me. I pushed through and screamed at him and slapped him on the chest. I broke down crying and backed off. I was turning into a monster. I was being pushed to the limit and I had no one to turn to. This wasn’t me. Sure, I can get angry sometimes— we all do. Sure, I can yell. But this was different. I wanted to give up on my life. I wasn’t doing anything right for him or proper enough for him. I didn’t want to greet him at the door. I didn’t want to make noise when I ate or drank. I didn’t want to fart or burp. I didn’t want to have Sprocket in the bed. I had no time to hold Sprox or have him comfort me. When HE would get to close the other dog would hide in a corner, and Sprocket would guard me and try to bite him if he crossed a boundary. HE would break up with me like every other day. His family would text him cruel things about me. About how HIS mom had a dream she was beating me with a baseball bat. How I needed to be kicked out. That it was HIS house. Sprocket would glare at him when it was time for a walk. I felt like I couldn’t move. Sprocket didn’t want to leave me. Hardly anyone was checking on me. Hardly anyone knew I was going through some really hard shit. The friends in Portland didn’t care. The friends in Louisiana didn’t know. I felt abandoned, alone, insecure, and terrified.

Apparently when I was incredibly low I would take photos of flowers by myself in the park.

I’m writing this blog because I don’t know how else to get over this. Or to just get through it where I’m not so fucking angry. I emailed HIM the other day (because quarantine got me in a MEWD) and went off on him. I saw some things online and realized how much of a fraud he is. And how he still has women he’s strung along behind him. They think he’s great. Which okay, yeah, some parts of him are. But he’s also abusive. He also hasn’t done the work to realize he’s being semi-predatory. One of these women I reached out to directly whenever he and I officially broke it off for the billionth time. I warned her. I said “you’re a mutual friend with him, and he’s abusive. “ to which she replied “He’s always been really nice to me … blah blah” and when I responded with nothing she said she believed me. Only to find out a few months later she fell in love with him. It’s the same shit- again and again.

Flowers always bringing me joy.

How do I know this? Well when I was at the end of my line I decided to email his last ex girlfriend. I felt insane and I needed to know her story. She called me and we talked forever. And I FINALLY felt like I was being seen and heard and it was like her story was my story. That was when I realized it wasn’t me. Sure, I didn’t help but LAWD. Shit was W I L D. I felt like everything was a scam and I needed to get out as soon as possible. I called my mom crying and begged her to help me buy a ticket to come back home. And I could see everyone still loving him and thinking he was so good and pure and kind. Because yeah, it seems like he is. But when it gets real you realize that it’s a facade. A really really good one. And it lures you in with smoke and mirrors only to trap you where you can barely breath. Where I felt like the only way out was to jump off the fourth floor of our building. Like, what???

So with all of this time to myself and thoughts during this quarantine I’m trying to get this figured out in my head. I’m trying to get closure from all of this after two years of being back in the states. I’m STILL trying to get my financial situation in order from it all. Yeah, I feel like I should be grateful I got to live in another country for a year. But when it’s in an abusive situation I think I could have done without. Right? Like sure I had some really fantastic fucking moments but it came with a curse. There was a catch.

Will I be okay? Yeah.
Will I get over all of this anytime soon? I’m not sure.
I can really just go day by day and see where it gets me. Because who the fuck knows.