Entry 25: The Break-up

Because I was no longer part of the church, Dad had shown little interest in my life, especially my love life. "Why would I bother meeting your boyfriends, you just break-up with them anyway," he said one day. However, I'd now been seeing T for two and a half years, and we were about to move in together. His family had welcomed me in, but I unfortunately hadn't been able to return the favor, as I talked about my father and sister as if I was David Attenborough describing rare and elusive creatures. "They mostly keep to themselves, they don't let others in unless they're of the same species, and yes, sometimes they even turn on their young."

Now, Dad had decided he wanted to officially meet T, after I reminded him how long we'd been seeing each other. They were introduced at an Italian restaurant, and it wasn't long before the two of them had fallen into a comfortable rhythm of conversation. T asked Dad a bit about the religion, Dad asked T where he'd grown up, and then T slipped in that we were planning on moving in together. My eyes darted to Dad, as I waited for his reaction. "Doesn't anyone ever get married anymore? "he asked sarcastically.

I could feel the anger bubble to the surface as I snapped, "I don't know how you can preach marriage, when you've been in two loveless ones yourself!" Those words landed hard, much harder than I'd anticipated, as I saw hurt fill his eyes.

His shoulders slumped as he said, "Your mom and I loved each other very much in the beginning, but I know I've made my share of mistakes."

He went to say more when T interrupted. "Look, we've all been married at this table before, and I think it's fair to say that none of those relationships worked out. So, it's not the piece of paper that makes a good relationship, but the two people within it who love and respect each other."

Dad nodded. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

"And I know you love your daughter very much, and she loves you. Well, I want you to know that I love her too, and I'm excited to move in with her and build a life."

Dad gazed over at me affectionately. "I can see that, T. Thank you for loving my daughter as much as you do."

The truth was, it was strange sitting at a table with the two men I loved most in my life, one who'd wanted to be with me, and one who'd chosen to distance himself. And even stranger, was waking up to an e-mail the next morning from Dad. "I don't worry about you quite as much, now that I've met T," he wrote. "And I'm sorry I haven't been a very present or good father to you these past few years."

I wanted to be hopeful that things would improve, but I knew how much influence the church had over Dad, especially with him being a prominent leader within it. T and I weren't going to be ushered into his life anytime soon, but at least when I now talked about T, Dad knew who he was. He'd handed my care over to another man, knowing he wasn't capable himself, and within one meeting he'd determined I was safe. But was I?

That answer came two months later, with T refusing to forgive me for for not driving his sons to school on the highway, while they'd stayed with us for a month. To him, it hadn't been fear that had stopped me, but betrayal, and within a day he'd gone from being over the top in love to despising me. I'd tirelessly stood by his side and supported him through two court cases, ongoing ex-wife drama, some sort of mental breakdown and a break-up, and now here he was turning on me, the moment his needs weren't met.

"Dad is dying of cancer," I said, as I buried my face into the collar of T's shirt, sobbing uncontrollably.

He barely hugged me as I felt his body stiffen. "Everyone dies, Ellie. You just need to accept that fact."

It was then that I knew I was being punished, and I could sense his satisfaction in my suffering. It had now been four months since we'd moved in together, and there was not let-up, no matter how much I begged for forgiveness. Regardless of T's cold and cruel behavior towards me, I didn't want to deal with a break-up and Dad dying at the same time. It was too much loss, and I still had hope that we could fix our relationship. T wasn't right enotionally, I knew that, as I watched the pendulum swing to the extreme once again.

He'd ditched me and his close friends for a new group, as he partied several nights a week till three or four in the morning, throwing his $400 bottle service receipts on the kitchen counter. "Wingman" was the term he used when I asked if he was also entertaining women at the table. And when he didn't come home at all one night, claiming he'd fallen asleep on a friend's couch, I found myself inspecting his clothes for perfume and make-up, the moment he showered the night off.

His behavior only continued to get worse, with every indication it was over between us. I'd been ignored, yelled at and insulted. He'd called me an abandoner, he told me the only thing I deserved was a ring around the bathtub when I asked him about our future, and he'd cheapened our relationship by claiming the only thing I'd been good for was a f*ck. He'd listed every single transgression I'd supposedly committed against him the past three years, and when I went to defend myself, he told me to get out of his face.

I knew I had to find a way to escape this toxic and abusive situation before it completely destroyed me, as it was clear that old T was gone for good. But then, the morning of my birthday he appeared in the kitchen. "Happy Birthday, Ellie. I can't wait to give you your gift tonight, you're going to be so excited!" he said, clapping his hands.

It was the strangest behavior, and I didn't know what to make of it. "Can't wait," I said, with little enthusiasm.

That evening when I got home from work, there was was standing in the living room waiting for me. "Happy Birthday, Ellie. I just couldn't wait. Here, open it now," he said, stuffing an envelope into my hands.

I ripped it open and read the card that was full of loving words, as if nothing had changed between us. Then I unfolded the piece of paper, and there was a voucher for two flights to San Francisco and a hotel stay. "This is for us?" I asked, scratching my head.

"It sure is!"

I'd always wanted to go to San Francisco, but the thought of taking a trip with T right now seemed crazy. "I really appreciate the gesture, this is extremely generous of you, but do you mind if we talk for a moment?"

He didn't flinch. "Sure, what's up?"

"It's just that I don't know if I can keep going on like this, pretending everything is okay when it's clearly not." I began listing off all the things that had been concerning, from his excessive partying to his unkind words.

I searched for some empathy but there wasn't any, nor was there any emotion behind his words as he said, "Well, I'm clearly hurting you with my actions, and I know I'm on a self-destructive path right now, and that's not fair to you. You don't deserve that. So, what do you think we should do?"

What should we do? No, I wanted to know what he was going to do to fix this. Instead, I could tell he was baiting me. "Well, if things don't change then..." I let the sentence trail off as he pounced on it like a cat.

"Then what?"

"Then I think we need to end things."

I could immediately sense excitement as he said, "Well, sounds like we have our answer then, we need to break-up. Oh, and you can just take a friend with you on that San Francisco trip."I stood there trying to make sense of everything that had just happened, feeling as if I'd just interacted with two people. "Oh, and stay as long as you need," he added, "as it's not like we hate each other. Anyway, I'm going to go now. Bye Ellie." And just like that he disappeared into the night, and didn't return till the morning.

I immediately began making arrangements to move back into my condo, after my tenant agreed to move out a month early. I only had a couple more weeks at the house with T, and then I'd be back at home. I was now in survival mode, and had completely shutdown, as I prepared to return to my old life. I'd entered this house full of so much love and hope for the future, and now I was nothing more than a shell.

I'd not gotten angry or cried up to this point, but my final interaction with T had officially broken me. As I sat in our backyard sipping on a cider, he'd decided to join me as he cracked open a beer. "You know, I could see you moving to another country one day, maybe even marry one of those weepy poet types," he said smugly. "See Ellie, I do care what happens to you."

And there it was, the official discard. After almost four years together, he couldn't care a less if he ever saw me again, nor did he care if I ended up in the arms of another man . I got up and went to the garage, not wanting to give T the satisfaction that he'd hurt me once again. As I began sorting through the boxes, my phone rang. It was Dad. I'd not wanted to tell him that my relationship had fallen apart, as I'd been too embarrassed, plus I didn't want to stress him out. But I'd answered my phone out of breath and Dad wanted to know why. "I'm going through boxes because...T and I have broken up."

I began to cry as I heard Dad let out a long "Noooo" and then a sob. He was now crying harder than me on the phone, as I attempted to rein in my sadness in order to calm him down.

"Don't worry, we're amicable, and my renter has agreed to move out early, so I'll be home before I know it."

He immediately sounded calmer. "Are you sure you're okay, love?"

"Yes, I'm good, I was just having a sad moment, that's all."

But the truth was, I wasn't okay. I was far from okay, as I'd lost everything I'd ever cared about. T, his sons, a home, and a sense of family. I was back to being completely alone and about to face another devasting loss, the death of my father.

I hadn't been able to bring myself to tell Dad that my relationship had completely fallen apart, as I'd been too embarrassed, plus I didn't want to add to his stress.

I knew that I needed to find a way out, before he completely destroyed me. I hadn't told Dad that my relationship had completely fallen apart, as I'd been too embarrassed, plus I didn't want to stress him out now that he was sick.

"This is for you and me?" I asked, trying to make sense of it all.

"It sure is," he said, giving me a hug and kiss.

I held them in my hand not knowing how to react. Was I supposed to forget all the terrible things he'd said and done up to this point? Was this a peace offering, a sign he was ready to fix things? I wasn't so sure. "Can we talk?" I asked, taking off my jacket.

"Sure, what's up?"

"I appreciate the kind gesture, I really do, as I've always wanted to go to San Francisco, but I just don't know that I can keep going on like this, pretending everything is okay when it's clearly not." I began listing off all the concerning behavior, as I studied his face for traces of remorse but there wasn't.

Instead, he was completely emotionless, as he said, "Well, I'm clearly hurting you with my actions, and I know I'm on a self-destructive path right now. So, what do you think we should do?"

It wasn't the question I wanted to be asked, I wanted him to tell me what he was planning to do to fix all of this. "Well, if things don't change, then..." I let the sentence trail off, but he pounced on it like a cat attacking a mouse.

"Then what?"

I knew I was being baited, forced to say the words he'd not wanted to say himself, as he knew he'd be seen as the bad guy if he did. "Then I think we we need to end things."

He was immediately excited. "Well, it sounds like we have our answer then. We need to break-up. And oh, it's probably best you just go with a friend to San Francisco," he said, putting his jacket on. "Oh, and stay as long as you need, it's not like we hate each other or anything."

And that's how we broke up after three and a half years. I stayed in our place until I could move back into my condo, which had been torture, as I watched him ride an euphoric high now that he was single. He came home less and less, with only brief interactions between us, other than when his kids arrived home for the weekend. We agreed to not tell them until I was closer to moving out, due to my close relationship with them, so we faked being together. "I can see you moving away and dating a weepy poet type," he said one afternoon as I sat in the backyard. "See, I do care about your wellbeing," he said smugly as my heart officially broke.

I was desperate to get away from him and his hurtful words, as I threw myself into the task of organizing the boxes in the garage for my move. Suddenly my phone rang. "You sound out of breath," my Dad said. "What are you doing?"

I could feel the sadness rise to the surface. "I'm just packing some boxes."

"Why"

"Because...." I couldn't hold my tears in any longer. "Because we're breaking up."

"To my surprise he let out a long, "Noooo," as he began to sob uncontrollably. His reaction had surprised me, causing me to snap out of my own crying frenzy. "It's okay Dad, we're amicable, and I'll be returning to my condo shortly," I said, desperate to say anything that would calm him down. "I'm okay, I promise." I lied. The truth was, I wasn't okay, T had shattered me into a million pieces, and I had no idea how I was going to glue myself back together in time, before saying goodbye to my father.