This is the day I should have left (Part 2 of ?)

For the last couple of weeks, my current boyfriend, Todd, and I have had this bizarre back and forth. As he starts talking about his upcoming ten-day trip to California - talking about his lists his plans, or to remind me of when his flight out and his flight in is, I am wracked with anxiety.

Eventually I'll tell him, "Okay, I need to stop thinking about this because it's stressing me out."

"Why is it stressing you out? You're not going, and I'm not stressed."

"I don't know, I just am, and I need to back burner this for now."

I usually make a joke about how I don't know how to go on a vacation, because the only vacation I've ever been on was a family one that we took when I was twelve. Sometimes I blame my anxiety on my Type A personality and how I need to feel like I'm in control of everything. But I finally put my finger on it.

The last time I had a significant other going on a long-ish trip, it was a disaster. Yes, I've accepted that the ex is a narcissist and was horribly emotionally abusive.  I recognize that I am not in that relationship anymore and that Todd is not that person. However, this internal reaction feels second nature and unavoidable.  Please proceed forward with an open mind.  Remember that I was in my early-twenties and did not even know terms like "narcissist" existed for people like this, and had never had emotional abuse truly spelled out for me.  

I had been in a tumultuous relationship for about six months. It was one of those relationships where, when things were good it seemed magical, but when they were bad they were worse than anything I'd  ever experienced.  No physical abuse, only deep manipulation and heavy guilt-trips to the point where I longer trusted your own instincts or opinions.  He had managed to convince me that he basically needed to move in for the winter due to the bad weather and dangerous roads.  Things weren't great for me during those months so, when Spring finally broke, I decided to end things

I packed up anything of his that was still at my apartment, I wrote a long, empathetic, 'It's not you, it's me' letter, and had it all planned out. I went down to deliver the letter and return his things and he broke down in sobs. He pulled out every line in the book:  "I can't be without you", "No one will ever love you as much as I do", "How can you give up on us so easily", "Can you give me just one more chance," "I'll die without you."

I even though he might actually walk into heavy traffic, like he threatened, as he stood on the curb while I sat in the car waiting for a break in traffic to back out of his grandfather's driveway.  As I drove away from the house, with my GPS on so that I could navigate to my friend's apartment, he texted me incessantly.  He kept saying how I was such a selfish bitch for pulling the "It's not you it's me card".  That I never gave him a real chance to begin with.  That I was a quitter.  

I finally made it to my friend's apartment, despite the constant disruptive phone calls and texts as I tried to talk him down.  I was trying to undo the damage I felt responsible for. My friend insisted this was just a tactic.  That I had made the right decision and I needed to just turn my phone off, ignore him for a while, and get my own perspective.  But the guilt was so deep rooted in me, I simply couldn't.  

I finally got him calm enough to have a real conversation. He apologized for all the hurtful things he had said and done over the last few months.  That he just was so depressed and riddled with anxiety living with his mother and grandfather.  That he needed time away from his toxic home life.  That if he could just go and get some perspective somewhere, he'd be better.  I knew better than to offer him more time in my apartment, as I felt that he made my home life toxic, so I asked him how he planned to accomplish that with no job and no savings.

His friend out of state offered to pay for his bus tickets to and from Oklahoma, offered him a place to stay, and said she may be able to even get him a job for the summer.  His joblessness having been a huge point of contention in our relationship. He'd be gone for a few weeks. Just enough time to get some distance, some perspective, and to come back a new man. It all sounded like a dream come true.

Then the trip started. He texted me incessantly, despite me pointing out this trip was supposed to be about clearing each of our heads.  He says, "How can I clear my head on this filthy, broken down, hot ass bus?" 

I was excited to finally have the freedom to spend my time how I wanted, and with friends I hadn't been able to see.  This was difficult to enjoy, though, while he was texting me, and becoming enraged any time I didn't respond quickly enough.  He complained every 10 minutes about his discomfort, his busses being late, the trip being so long, being out of cigarettes, needing sleep, needing caffeine. He kept me up most of the night, almost every night that he was gone.

I thought, 'Once he gets to his friend's house it'll be okay.' But it wasn't.  He found more things to complain about.  He complained about the friend, her husband, the animals, the smell, the weather, the uncomfortable bed, the cigarettes they bought for him, the lack of food he had eat. Two weeks of incessant complaining. 

"I just need to come home. To you. This trip showed me how wonderful you are. How much I need you." It sounded sweet, and was a welcome respite from his complaints. He counted down the days until his bus ride home. He told me when he was getting onto the bus. Then called me a short time later, livid.

"The fucking bus broke down. We're delayed for fucking hours. I'm broke, I'm out of cigarettes, I'm exhausted, I'm in a city I don't know, and I'm stranded here."

"I'm sorry. Just try to relax and find a way to distract yourself."

"You don't fucking understand. I'm going to have a mental fucking breakdown here. I can't fucking handle this."  He sounds simultaneously like a scared little boy and an enraged man. Part of me was frustrated, another part of me empathized. It would suck to be stuck in a bus station for hours, to have your homecoming delayed, to be stranded in a strange city.

He called a few hours later, having not texted to save battery life.  He had made it to a new city. "I'm going to be here until fucking midnight." I apologized again. He was supposed to be home by 5pm, and now it's a whole day delayed. "I need you to come get me."

"I can't drive my car to Illinois, it wouldn't make it."  This was only partially true.  I considered if a victory in boundary setting, nonetheless.

"Well, drive down to my mom's, pick up my car and drive that to get me."

"I still wouldn't make it before the bus is supposed to be fixed."

"I don't fucking care. The next bus will breakdown too and then I'll be two days fucking later than planned."

I agreed. I drove an hour to his car and then begin the trek to Illinois on no sleep. There was no point in trying to sleep before taking on the drive.  I knew he'd text and call all night and I wouldn't sleep anyhow. I feared falling asleep the whole way - seeing as I'd crashed two cars in the past that exact way.  I made a lot of pit stops to acquire caffeine and snacks and I blared the radio as I kept driving, trying to get to him as quickly as possible to avoid more enragement. I called him when I was about halfway there and and told him I'd need him to drive back, that I was too tired. He tried to argue that he hadn't slept either - how could he possibly sleep in a bus station after all - but he reluctantly agreed.  A little while later he called to tell me that he'd offered a ride to another guy heading to Detroit. A total stranger about to be in the car with us for hours. But I was already halfway there, it was his car, and he would be driving, so I said okay.  What else could I do?

I finally got to the bus station, my current sort-of-ex and this stranger piled themselves and their things into the car. They blared rap music the entire way as I was trying to sleep in the backseat. The two of them bitched and fed into each other's anger over the debacle that was their bus ride. To pass the time I started texting a girl I hadn't talked to nearly enough.  She and I commiserated our experiences with toxic ex's and how awful men can be.  This was girl I'd thought about considering maybe trying to date.  (As much as someone who wasn't sure homosexuality was a real thing until she was 14 can consider such a thing.)  I hoped that she would convince me that leaving a toxic ex was the best thing a person can do. She would be my lighthouse in the storm, my rock, my support, my soul sister.  Unfortunately my timing was bad - as it often is in these situations.  She told me she'd recently gone back to her ex.  He was apologetic and seemed genuinely ready to change.  I looked into the front seat and thought...that's what this trip was supposed to be.  Maybe I really should give him one more chance to prove he could be a better man.

Spoiler alert - it wasn't.  It was a mistake and a half to allow him back into my life and into my apartment.  He managed to guilt me into allowing him to have a drawer in my dresser to prove my commitment to the relationship.  He spent more nights at my apartment than not, despite me telling him he wasn't moving in any time soon.  He demanded I spend my weekends an hour away from my home and my friends to "make things fair" which resulted in me being isolated and depressed for the better part of the next year.

Writing this out, it all seems so easy to avoid this type of situation.  It seems like an easy situation to leave.  It also seems very easy to be able to say, "This was a bad situation that happened in the past, and this situation will not repeat itself now that I am in a new relationship."  I know this won't happen again.  I know that if for some reason it managed to repeat itself, I would handle it all much differently.  But that's the thing about emotionally abusive relationships.  They rewire your brain in ways you don't even realize until you're removed from it and stressing over a trip that shouldn't be stressing you out in the slightest.  There is a part of me, the animalistic side of me, that is waiting for the moment that requires I choose fight or flight.  When I will be expected to problem-solve everything and tie all the loose ends up in a neat little bow regardless of how much stress it puts on me.  I share these stories in hope that I can show someone else that they can leave these people and situations.  I share these stories in hope that I can rewire my brain away from a guilt-fueled reaction.  I hope that someone reads this and hears they deserve better, and they find the strength to leave sooner than I did.