Almost Hit By a Car

Sometimes living with a non-observant and somewhat oblivious man has its advantages. The bad really does outweigh the good though.

It’s one reason I suppose I don’t love him. But I have my moments when I want to be left alone. But then if he noticed and took care of me the way I want to be, then not being left alone and in fact comforted, would be something I’d welcome.

Today I left to walk over to the nearby convenience store for coffee. I told B I was going and asked him if he wanted something. He didn’t and I was on my way.  I approached the corner where I need to cross and a car sat waiting at a STOP sign, for its opportunity to make its turn.

Thinking as a pedestrian that I had the right of way as well as seeing other cars still coming down the road, I attempted to cross the small road, in front of the car at the STOP sign.

Well, apparently I am invisible, because the shit behind the wheel came close to hitting me with his SUV.  Once he’d made his turn, I turned and showed the back of his car my middle finger. He likely didn’t see that either.

I’ve been so emotional anyway because Christmas without a family sucks.

But I am still recovering from an argument B and I had last night that revolves around him getting out of debt. So it would not have taken something so scary as nearly getting plowed by a shitty driver, to make me cry again.

I could feel the tears wanting to break through and I walked right past that convenience store. I found myself having a tough time breathing and my chest was heaving hard. I started to cry. Not in buckets, but my eyes just leaked as I continued to walk. I could not wait to get back home, even though I knew I would not want to talk about it. My anger from the night before had still  been lingering so conversation was not something I looked forward to.

B heard me coming up the steps to the apartment though and he opened the door for me. But then walked away from it, so all I had to do was swing the door open a bit more so I could fit through.

I walked past him without coffee and into my bedroom. I shut the door but had to go back out for something else…I don’t remember what now. At that point Oz took the opportunity to begin coming into my room but stopped halfway in the doorway.

I said with such obvious lack of patience, “In or out” and reached down to nudge him one way or the other. He chose out and I shut the door to be alone and cry.

I cried about everything that had just piled up in the last few hours: The invitation from my sister, the lie I figured out, the fool I felt like as a result, the near miss with a car and the chaos that always seems to ensue when I attempt to just try to be alone, shut the door and be alone.

It took me a little while to cry it out and still B never even noticed or asked about the coffee I set out to get myself.  When I calmed down, I made my own coffee and a late breakfast. So really it worked out because what I ate was a ton healthier than the pretzel I would’ve bought and the coffee I made myself is much better quality than what the convenience store offers. So at least something good came out of it and in fact, even in that moment just before I began to cry, as I walked past the store, I had a thought: “Maybe this is a sign for me not to go into that store, for me not to have that coffee or that pretzel.” (Or perhaps just an opportunity to make a much healthier choice.)

Although it was a relief for me in this particular situation that the man I live with did not ask me why I didn’t come back with coffee, I still think about how nice it would be to live with a man who did notice and see the distress and ask in an empathic way, what had happened or what the matter was.

And after I told him he’d say “Aw honey, I’m so sorry,”  hug me and then offer me a back rub or a foot rub or a neck rub or whatever the fuck rub I wanted.

But I won’t get that from B. He never even noticed I showed back up without coffee.

Final note: As I write this, much later after all this shit happened, Oz is asleep right next to my electric heater. It’s a particularly favorite spot of his in the winter time.  His little sleeping face is so damn adorable and I feel ashamed at my impatience earlier and in general that he ended up living with such a hot head.


9 thoughts on “Almost Hit By a Car

      • I so completely understand.

        Through therapy and through reading a lot of good self help books, I have learned that getting into loveless and even abusive relationships is typical for those of us who grew up in unloving, neglectful, abusive homes. Which is doubly sad, because we are so starved for love and safety.

        I have been through several divorces. The first 3 cheated on me and physically abused me very badly — so badly, that I barely escaped with my life all 3 times. Much like the way I barely survived my childhood, after my mother tried to gas us all to death, among many things.

        My 4th marriage lasted over 10 years. I thought it was a “good” marriage, because of what wasn’t happening. He never cheated on me, at least not to my knowledge. And he never physically abused me in any way. In comparison to the first three marriages from hell, I had it made!

        And yet, it was almost like being married to a dead person. The lack of love was palpable. But when I would tell him that I felt like he did not love me or even like me very much, he would say — in his lifeless voice — “Oh no, you’re wrong, of course I love you, I married you, didn’t I?” So I thought the problem was all me. I was too needy.

        Then came the day when an email I sent to Oprah about one of her book club selections, got us on the Oprah Winfrey Show. We weren’t there in person, we were filmed for a beautifully done “Remembering Your Spirit” segment at the end of the show for that particular book, While I Was Gone by Sue Miller.

        We had a film crew following us for an entire day, as we worked side by side in the kitchen — something we never did in real life, walked hand in hand along our shady street, walked through a nearby forest, along a stream and through one of Pennsylvania’s old covered bridges, and finally as we ate a romantic dinner by candlelight in our favorite restaurant. I could hear someone in the kitchen shouting excitedly: “You’ll never believe who’s out there — a film crew from Oprah!”

        They were with us from early morning until late that night. It was like being King and Queen for the day. Finally the film crew, who seemed like our best friends by then, packed up and left.

        Although I felt exhausted at that point, I was on a high like I had never been on before. We had just been filmed for Oprah’s show! An email I wrote made that happen! I don’t think a winning mega bucks lottery would have made me feel that happy. Oprah chose ME to inspire people! I really was an OK person, after all!!!!!

        In that moment, my husband turned to me and said that he felt inspired to make a confession. “You know how you sometimes say that you think I don’t love you, and I tell you that you’re wrong. Well, I have been lying. I never have loved you…”

        In a heartbeat I was plunged from my highest high to the pit of miserable insecurity and loneliness. “I’m leaving you,” I said. And I did. I had just turned 47 and this was my 4th divorce.

        The next 3 years, before I finally got good therapy right before my 50th birthday, were HELL. Looking back, I don’t know how I survived that much pain! I had the words of a horrible song stuck in my head during much of that hellish time. “I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me.”

        Oh!! Thank God I am not living in that lost and lonely hell any longer.

        I thought my abusive parents and my abusive exes were all right about me. *I* was the common denominator in all my failed relationships, so *I* must be The Problem. My abusive mother, who always took the side of my abusive exes, delighted in telling me: “Something about YOU just brings out The Worst in people!”

        A book that finally helped me see the truth about my many failed relationships is Women Who Love Too Much, by Robin Norwood. Then I read Love Is A Choice by Paul Meier, MD, and made the decision to spend most of my divorce settlement money as an in-house patient at his clinic in Richardson, Texas. Dr. Meier diagnosed my PTSD. “You are Not Crazy,” he told me. “PTSD is a normal reaction to overwhelming trauma, just as bleeding is a normal reaction to being stabbed!” And so my journey to hope began.

        My Christmas prayer for you is that you will find the same hope and healing, and soon.

        Liked by 1 person

        • What your mother said is the biggest heart breaker for me. Those words from a mother can be the harshest than if they come from anyone else. Not that it can’t hurt from others but wow. Go and look for support and just get kicked some more while you’re down.

          Just from our one phone conversation, PLUS all the conversations we’ve had here on WP, texting and email, I can tell you that you have helped me so so so freaking much.

          Within your stories, there is a lot of wisdom and insight. Whenever I see a long comment I feel really happy and grateful that you would take the time to help me, engage me, understand me.

          I honestly don’t know that if he and I were married and I wanted a divorce that there would be any sort of settlement to have. He makes shit money and has no backbone to ask for a raise even though he runs like a slave for the company he works for.

          I have felt sorry for him in the past but now I’m just disgusted, even though I know why he doesn’t ask. And that reason is from things he’s done (like crash some of the vans he drives). He doesn’t want to stir the pot. He’s afraid that not only will they say no, they will fire him.

          But at the same time, I’ve not been working so I feel like a big slum myself. We are two peas in a pod and the only answer for me in this situation, if I want to get out is to earn money myself. Not something that should be that hard but getting an actual job with PTSD…yeah, not sure I can do that.

          I am thinking out loud a lot in this comment so I hope you don’t mind.

          Last year he got a Christmas bonus, put it in an account and then didn’t tell me about it. Yeah, his money, but he told me later when I got pissed that they only recognized him with a Wawa gift card, that he got a bonus. I wasn’t mad for myself. I was mad because he works his ass for them and a $100 gift card is hardly gratitude. He’s been there for over 30 years.

          Anyway, after he told me about the bonus money he told me the reason he didn’t tell me is because he thought I would want to do something with it for myself.

          I was really hurt and shocked about that because the only money I take from him is for necessary stuff…gas and we buy meat from the farmers’ market. So I was like, “Where the F did that come from?”

          I argued in my defense and was pretty much pleading for him to understand that that isn’t me. But geez, we’ve lived together since 2003 and he doesn’t know this by now.

          And then finding out not only that he’s been using the card he’s supposed to be paying down to get out of ALL debt, but blatantly not even telling me about it once I questioned the balance. So deceitful! I was beside myself. I wish I had somewhere to go, I would’ve made plans and started packing.

          I’m also seeing some patterns in this situation that I’ve been in for a long time. I’m reading that gaslighting book and even though I see more of me in the gaslighter role (at the risk of being brutally honest with myself) I also see how I was really gaslighted in a relationship with a guy a long time ago. It explains a lot. More than i have room in my mind to go into right now. But yeah, I’ve got a lot of work to do and I suppose I need to just detach and work on me, physically, mentally, emotionally, financially and spiritually.

          I still can’t get over that you used to live in PA. I really hope that it works out that we can meet. Love and hugs dear friend. I hope you are having the Merriest of Christmases…you deserve it.

          Liked by 1 person

          • I wish I could go into your comment and answer one paragraph at a time, like you did in my email. A lot of thoughts came up as I read this. But… oops, I just looked at the time. I need to make the gravy for my pot roast. I don’t often cook, my husband likes to do that — I am so lucky! — so I don’t want to mess it up.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s