A bad, bad night

Tonight I am feeling the full brunt of the whole thing.

Please bear with me; I know you guys are sick to death of hearing about my narc and his foster child, but it was two years ago tonight that he came. Two years ago. I was shaking so badly I couldn't take a photo of them when he asked me to, to remember his first day, "just in case we adopt him." I remember, now, that he didn't ask for a photo of the three of us together, or of my daughters and him together. I remember, now, that he didn't want me to go along to pick him up, didn't want the social worker to meet me or even know about me. He knew then that it was going to be the two of them without us, all the while telling me we were going to be a family. I am still shaking, in addition to everything else. And crying. It's like my whole life is flashing before my eyes, especially the last two years. I am realizing the burden of two years of every single moment poisnoned by him--every single one. Every second of every hour of every day devoted to him, desperately loving him, trying to figure out what to do, how to make him love me again, how to make him look at me again, make love to me again, want to be with me again. How many lies did he tell me? How many times did he cheat on me? I can't even imagine because I know absolutely nothing about him. Nothing. I don't know who is in his life, who he spends every evening with, what he does all day, who he loves, what he wants, what his plans are. Nothing. I read all of your posts about meeting the other woman, seeing the other woman, reading emails from the other woman, and part of me is jealous because I know none of them, not even if there really are any, just know that he wanted me to think there were while telling me there weren't. Just wanted to hurt me.
And that it had to end with hate, with him telling me to do what I want, to leave if I want, to go to hell, to leave him alone.

I have been strong since I first saw my counselor two weeks ago--until tonight. I had opened up my drapes again. I walked my daughters to school. I have gone to the school fitness program in the morning with the neighbors. I have worked, gone to church, spent time with my mom. I have been trying to look at it objectively, trying to will myself to let it go. He is gone every single night now, usually by himself. He is gone all weekend every weekend. He seems fine, and who could ever know if it's a poker face or for real? How could anyone ever know?

I imagine that the whole past two years that I've been trying to make it work that he has had another girlfriend--or several. Or a boyfriend. Or male hookups. Or prostitutes. For all I know a girlfriend spends every night with him, maybe even comes in the back and sleeps in his bed. Maybe he's married or separated or divorced. Maybe he has a child with someone. Maybe he is sexually abusing his foster child. I wonder now, too, if he is a drug addict. If the friends of his who do coke are his suppliers, or if the business deals he makes are different kinds of deals than property deals or investment deals. I wonder if he has AIDS Or maybe really does have cancer. Maybe he has a death wish or is contemplating suicide. Maybe he and both of his brothers reallly are sleeping with the babysitter. Maybe his female friends really are just friends. Maybe they aren't. Maybe he really loved me. Or maybe he was planning to have me killed. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. It boggles my mind that I have lived thirty feet from this man for four years, have been in the most intimate physical situations with him, seemed to share the dearest hopes and dreams with him, and know absolutely nothing about him

He lives his whole life in secrecy, thirty feet away from me. On purpose. What monster has the stamina and carefulness and will and hate to do that? To make sure every single movement is shrouded in secrecy from the woman he says he loves?

I am remembering tonight the first year we were together--the year I thought we were in love. It's been hard since I started trying to separate myself from him a couople of months ago, and since I've been in therapy the past three weeks. I am remembering things I forgot, and it hurts so f*cking bad.

It started right away, and I even remember now pushing the thoughts away from the beginning. Him not answering the phone at night, him claiming I said I was busy when we had plans, him saying he had to work every weekend and then finding out that he doesn't work weekends, him coming over three hours late at night after being out (and having to go home and shower first), his girlfriends showing up at my door ("I swear I haven't seen her in a year, she's crazy, honey.") and the professions of love, the tears, the total lack of concern about birth control or plans of any kind, the public indecency, the promises, the lies, the lies, the lies.

The thing that kills me the most is how many chances I had to walk away with dignity at the outrageous things he did, one after the other after the other. I could have left with great dignity:

-the first night he showed up two hours late.
-the second, fifth, tenth or twentieth time he showed up three hours late
-after he refused to have me over to his house after a month or two months or six months or a year
-after he lied to me about having to work our first Easter
-after his girlfriend showed up at my house
-after he told me he was getting a foster child without talking to me about it
-after he took the child to another woman's house so he could go out with someone else behind my back
-after he lied about having to work because he wanted to take just the child and not my girls and me to visit his old friends
-after his brothers gave Christmas presents to the child and not my daughters
-after he went home on Christmas eve after begging to let he and his child stay with us and after I blew off my own family to cook his family dinner at MY house
-after he refused to even stop at my mom's for a glass of wine on Thanksgiving
-after he refused to even stop at my mom's for a glass of wine on Christmas
-after he told my daughters to "grow up" because they thought he no longer loved them
-after he told my ten year old to "get a grip; like mother like daughter drama" when she walked in on us having sex and cried
-after he went to California for a week to see another woman
-after he moved into our new house behind my back
-after he put locks on the backyard gates and refused to give me a key
-after he moved his babysitter in next door, who doesn't speak to me
-after he lied about having to work so he could take his child on his boat without us, not once but every single weekend for two entire summers.
-after he called me trash
-after he called my family trash
-after he called my daughters trash
-after he beat the crap out of me for trying to look at his phone
-after he told me no one would ever want my daughters and I broke his windshield
-after the police told me to walk away

This is a really, really awful night. I had nightmares all last night again, for the first time in a couple of weeks. They are all about the same two things: him cheating on me with someone else, and him getting in his car and driving away with the child, leaving us behind.

I've had these nightmares for two years. Two years. On top of the moment to moment thoughts of him every single day. Not even sleep is relief, as most of you have experienced.

Cold hearted. We hear that term our whole lives and don't really understand what it means. Usually when people use it they are referring to something quite passionate: someone who steals a best friend's girl or boyfriend, someone who turns on a friend for some desperate reason, someone who doesn't show up at her mother's funeral because of the pain of the past. We don't really understand what it means for a human being to have a heart that doesn't work.

One of the strangest and hardest things for me to grasp tonight is my cold heart, not towards him, because it still is brimming with love and passion for some insane reason, but my cold heart towards so many other things that I just cannot deal with in the wake of what's happened. When my mom needs help, or company, or an ear, I can't handle it. When a church function needs more volunteers, I think, "not me, not this time." When my daughteres want to go to the park, I say, "I can't." To have lost my will to love, to serve, to help: I am crying now about it. I have tears in my eyes because I have learned to think, "No. I'm not going to care right now. I can't."

My life is changing. I know it is changing. It's changing for everyone.

This was today for me, two years later:

-I went to kickboxing class at six am on the new lawn at school, with my neighbors.
-I went home and got my daughters dressed, gave them breakfast by candlelight with Beethoven on the radio.
-I took them to school
-I went to cantor at the weekly school Mass at 8:30 at our church
-I took my mom on errands as she can no longer drive since her eye surgery
-I called my brother to wish him and his wife a happy second anniversary
-I rented a violin to begin my violin classes on Thursday
-I drove my ex husband and business partner to pick up our tour bus from the mechanic
-I picked up my daughters from school and took them to ballet class
-I helped my daughters do homework and made them dinner
-I supervised their baths and tucked them in bed
-I did a radio interview to promote my new book
-I did a load of laundry. I did the dishes.

I think I'm doing okay. I think I'm pretty much amazing.

When I went to pick up my daughters this afternoon, I saw my neighbor in back of the school. He is a really nice guy who does all the volunteer landscaping at school, as he works for a landscaping company. I always talk and joke with him and his boyfriend, who is an engineer at school, and today we were talking and the subject of the narc came up. We have never talked about him, though everyone knows we have been together these three years, and he said today, "I went off D after something that happened last month." I asked him what it was.

About two months ago, our mail carrier, Mike, died suddenly of a heart attack while delivering the mail. This was a great, great guy who always went above and beyond his duties for all of us in the neighborhood. He was a great friend and would commonly bring back mail after he went off duty if he knew someone had a check or something they were expecting.

The narc always raved about Mike. He was such a great guy, such a great friend, etc. etc.

Well my neighbor, who just beautifies everything in his path, got the idea to make a memorial garden for Mike at the corner intersection. He asked neighbors on Mike's route for donations to buy perennials and also materials to place a plaque and a decorative mailbox in the garden. Any leftover money would be given to the family, as Mike had several young children left behind.

My neighbor said that when he went to my narc's door and asked for "five or ten dollars, even a couple of dollars, whatever you have" for the garden, the narc said, "No" and closed the door in his face.

I felt really hopeful today that people do and will know the truth, at least here.