Entry 21: Love

After my divorce, I had a few relationships, but none of them had been deep enough or fulfilling enough for me to stay long-term. There'd been the alcoholic, the photographer, the secret mission guy, the mean Brazilian, and the closeted gay guy. I'd come out of those relationships exhausted and beaten down, and I was no longer afraid to be alone, I relished in it. I decided that love would have to come to me, as I was done chasing it, and after almost a year of being my own, it suddenly entered, sweeping me off my feet.

T was handsome, affectionate, gregarious, irreverent and unpredictable, and for the first few months of us meeting, all we did was sit in dusty pubs and talk about our hopes, dreams and pasts. I'd never been with anyone who'd wanted to get to know my heart and soul the way he did, and I'd never been with someone who'd wanted to make the emotional connection before the physical. After my past relationships, it had been hard to trust, and yet with him I felt nothing but safe. And the more I got to know him, the more my body ached for his physical touch, until one night our lips finally joined, igniting a passionate love affair.

His past had been complicated and messy. There was childhood abuse, a crazy mother, two failed marriages, two young sons, a hateful ex-wife intent on destroying him, and another ex-wife that had upped and left him, who'd been bi-polar. T had been one giant red flag on paper, and yet in front of me was an intelligent, caring and well rounded man who I adored. So, I jumped in with both feet in spite of his past.

The first year had been peaceful, filled with nothing but love and passion. But as we entered year two, T's ex-wife decided to fight for custody of his two sons wanting to move them to Europe for good. It had been a stressful and difficult time, and he'd shutdown completely, suppressing every emotion in order to deal with the situation. In spite of him completely disappearing emotionally, I stayed by his side and patiently waited until the case was ruled on, with the courts dismissing his ex-wife's request.

We were just starting to get back to normal when his ex-wife started another court case, this time to move T's sons to another city within the same country. It was far enough away that it would make it difficult for him to have a relationship with them, unless he moved there himself. So, once again lawyers were obtained, affidavits written and enormous amounts of money paid, as another battle ensued. And just like before, he withdrew, suppressing his emotions, as I put my own needs aside in order to support him.

This time, there was more of a chance she'd win, and if that occurred, I knew he'd follow his kids, which left our own relationship with a question mark. Did he love me enough that he'd want to try and make our relationship work regardless? For the first time, I wasn't sure where I stood, and it was a scary place to be in. So, I decided to broach the subject one night as we headed out for a snowy walk. I knew he wasn't happy at the idea of uprooting his life again, but I thought it might make it a little easier if he knew the sacrifice I was willing to make for him and his boys. "I'd move with you," I said, nervously, "if you didn't end up winning the case." I thought he'd be touched by those words, but it just seemed to make him angry.

"Now, why would you go and do something like that?" he snapped.

"Because I love you, and that's what you do when you love someone." I wondered why I was fighting for our relationship and he wasn't, after love bombing me the entire year. What had changed? Instead of us continuing to talk about it, we fell into an uncomfortable silence, living me riddled with anxiety.

Fortunately, T ended up winning the second court case by default, after the judge ordered a child psychologist to get involved, to determine what was in the best interest of the boys. As soon as his ex-wife heard this, she dropped the case. I figured that within a couple of weeks he'd return to his old self like he'd done before, but that wasn't the case. Instead, he'd turned manic, with it reminiscent of someone suffering with bi-polar. "I'm bored," he said one evening as we sat having dinner. His words had shocked me, as we were anything but boring together. Sure, I'd never been a huge risk taker, nor did I love extreme sports, but it had created a healthy balance between us. Now, he seemed nothing but reckless, as he searched for his next high.

"I'm not right," he said one night, as we sat in the same dusty pub we'd first met in. "I still love you, but I think we should break-up." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Sure, it had been exhausting being with him, but I didn't want to break-up, I wanted him to fix himself. I left the pub in tears, unable to fathom spending Christmas alone. He'd become my entire world, and now it was being ripped from me. I wasn't sure how I was going to cope with the loss other than to run away, which is exactly what I did, as I typed Costa Rica nature retreats into my browser. Within an hour I had booked my solo trip.

In spite of showing up depressed and tearful, it had turned out to be one of the best trips of my life, as I dined under the stars, ziplined, swam in the ocean and took walks along the beach. Each day, surrounded by nature, I felt a little less sad, and I knew that when I returned home I'd be strong enough to deal with the loss awaiting me. I'd not anticipated any sort of reconciliation, and then my phone rang on the last day of my vacation. "I love you and I don't want to lose you,' T said. "I'm getting help, and I want us to be together. Please give me another chance."

When I returned from my trip, there he was waiting for me, happy and healthy. "I want us to move in together," he said a couple of weeks after I'd arrived home. The idea both excited and scared me, after everything we'd just been through, but I didn't want to dismiss his commitment to our relationship. Whatever help he'd sought, it had finally opened his eyes to what was in front of him. So, a couple of months later we moved in together, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I was in a grown-up relationship. But, just as we were getting settled, another battle ensued with his ex-wife, who wanted to pull the boys out of school for two months in order to take them to Europe while she obtained a degree. "Absolutely not," was his response. So, eventually they settled on them spending a month with us and then a month with her in Europe.

Because of the severe hostility of T's ex-wife, I'd taken a backseat to any sort of parental duties, as she was always in the background watching and accusing. If the boys caught a cold while staying with us, it was life threatening by the time they got home. If we had people over for dinner while the boys were with us, she called it a house party, and the list went on and on. She'd never directly attacked or accused me of anything, but I found myself walking on cracked eggshells anyway, doing everything I could not to be the cause of another court case. "Does your mom allow you to eat this?" Does your mom allow you to do this?" These were my constant questions to the boys, ensuring I wasn't overstepping her authority or unleashing her fury.

As their time with us approached, T asked if I could drive the boys to school and he'd pick them up. It sounded like a reasonable request, only their schools were half an hour out of the city, requiring me to drive them on the highway each morning, which also meant I'd have to start work two hours later each day. I agreed at first, but the more I thought about it, the more angst I felt. What if I got them to school late and their mom found out? What if I got in a car accident on the highway and they were injured, or even worse what if they were killed? I'd built up such a fear of his ex-wife, that I couldn't even think straight.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can drive the kids to school," I said one night, as we watched a movie. "I'll do everything else while they're with us; cooking, cleaning, laundry, their school lunches, but I think it's best if you take them to school. I wouldn't want anything to happen to them while in my care. Plus, your work schedule is much more flexible than mine with you being a consultant."

T was immediately mad. "Great, now I have to do everything myself. Thanks a a lot!" he said, stomping up the stairs. I chased after him, telling him I'd take care of everything else outside of school drop offs, but I could see he'd already shutdown emotionally, refusing to discuss the matter any further. I figured he'd get over it in a day or two, but it was clear that he wasn't going to forgive me no matter how much I pleaded with him, or apologized for not having been brave enough. In front of his boys he acted like nothing had changed between us, but when we were alone he was distant and cold. I attempted to do all the domestic duties like I'd promised, but he walked around like a martyr, refusing to let me help.

The month had been torture, as he continued to punish me, but I figured that once the boys left we'd eventually fall back into a loving relationship, which unfortunately hadn't been the case. Instead, he became angrier and bitter, with him not only turning on me, but his close friends as well. He was now a black hole, and I was doing everything I could not to get sucked into it, but it was taking its toll, and I didn't know how much longer I could hold on. There was no warmth or love radiating from him, and it didn't seem to matter that I'd stayed by his side through all his ups and downs and court cases, because the moment I'd failed to meet his needs, he'd pushed me away.

I didn't know what to do other than wait and see where everything settled. There were still several months left on our lease together, I had a renter in my condo that had signed a year lease, and I was embarrassed to admit to friends and family that the relationship was beginning to fail after only a couple of months. Plus, I kept convincing myself that somewhere under that cold exterior was a man who still loved me, and whatever high/low he was currently in, he'd eventually find his way out of it like he had before.

But the truth was, my life was completely falling apart before my eyes, and I felt powerless to do anything about it. I was now at one of the lowest points in my life, unable to fathom it getting any lower, when I got a call from my father at work. "I haven't been feeling very well," he said. "The doctor ran some tests, and well, it's not looking very good. I don't want to upset you, so I think it's best if you come over so we can discuss it in person."

Tears began streaming down my face as I choked on my words. "Dad, what do you mean not looking good?"

"We can chat more when I see you tomorrow," he said, not wanting to elaborate.

I hung up the phone and began to sob. I knew what that meant, he was dying. My dad was dying. I had no idea how I was going to deal with this on top of everything else I was now facing, but I had no choice, I would have to find a way. I just prayed that I'd be able to fix my relationship with my father in time, otherwise I feared it would destroy me.