[NOTE: I was going to post this on my domain blog, but the only form of internet is my phone, and I don't have my password memorised, so I can't log into it right now. I can't reset the password from a mobile phone anyway. When I get home, and get to a computer, this may mirror on my website. Thank you for the patience and support while I am going through this particularly difficult time. Love can heal what Love has harmed.]
I feel sick, as if I am going to start throwing up any minute now, despite the fact that I have not eaten anything today but my morning meds.
I am shaking.
I feel numb.
My vision is slowed down to a crawl when I move my eyes around.
Funny thing is, I haven't taken a single pill that could fuck me up this bad.
No, this time it's a panic attack, brought on by the fear of what I am going to be facing when I get home.
It started at the morning break...
All the students here are on Fall Break, but I still assigned them to turn in their composition books today so I could have some free days to read essays, grade them, record the grades and have them ready to turn back in on Monday. I was doing good. Waking up this morning, and checking my calendar, I saw it was the would-be 50th birthday of my first love. The man whom I never slept with, but that I loved with all my heart. He taught me to look up at the stars, and told me that was the best tranquilizer know on the Universe. I only knew him three years, and then he died. It was a different death for me, because I witnessed it. I watched him struggle and die...
Wiping the tears of the past from my eyes, I went to work anyway, listening to happy music and pushing the thought of seeing my first love die out of my head. It worked. I was plucky and strict as the student stumbled in bleary-eyed and dumped their composition books into the cardboard box I had set up, and then shuffle back out of the school. Break time came around and I decided to call home. My mother answered. She told me something that changed me.
I am going to be needed for the next three weeks. Needed to accompany someone I don't particularly like, who has a habit of leaving huge bruises and scars on my face and down my arms when I don't do what he demands. She seemed happy telling me this. Of course she's happy. She lives to see me miserable. She told me that she had packed me some clothes and as soon as I come in from work, he will be there to take me with him. I felt sick. Nausea rolled through my stomach. I felt the saliva build in my mouth, warning me to get to a trash can or a sink, a toilet, outside, so I could puke up all the Smart Water I had chugged this morning.
"What does he want me for? Does [husband] know?!" I demanded.
My mother said something muffled and I heard my husband reply to her: "Tell her it's just twenty-four days. It's not going to kill her. Besides, she needs to contribute to my family for a change."
Gee, I love you too.
I've thought about this long and hard. Knowing what I know has made me feel worse. My arms feel as if they'er on fire, but I have not been out in the sun. I feel like I am going to throw up, but nothing has come up. I am shaking. The room is slanted. I have sat at the table for my students to drop off their composition books, but I am not keeping track.
My husband doesn't believe me. After all these years and all the confession and apologies where he said he would never allow me to be alone with that creep, here he is, saying that he's been tricking me all these years?
I'm in no condition to go back to work, and I'm certainly in no condition to drive home. Why would I want to go there? What ever is planned for the next twenty-four days is not good. It's not something that I want to be involved in.
I feel like I want to cry, but the tears won't come.
Shortly after hanging up from my mother, I called my man to see if he really didn't believe me. He said that things are different now, and it was me, after all, who said they needed a break. Yes, I said it would be nice to go on a vacation, but with my loving family. He wasn't angry or shitty to me, nor was he cold. He truly believes that I will be okay. He truly believes that I will make it through this just fine.
I have been getting text messages from Creep ever since. He even told me he has a "special ring" I can wear instead of my wedding band. Um, how about no?
I don't answer the texts, but he knows that I am reading them. I always read my text messages.
I have reached out to several friends today, practically begging them to help me. I have done all but get on my knees and beg to be hidden, to be suddenly unavailable at 2pm today, so that I don't have to go through this.
So far I have gotten no responses.
I'll post updates to Twitter as I go along. For now I have an hour left. For the first time since I worked here, the work day is going by too fast. I am also going to either cross post this to my site, or provide a link to it. I will keep everyone updated. I promise.
The email that goes directly to my phone, which I assume I will be allowed to take with me, will be the only connection to the internet for a while, I assume. Feel free to email me. I love interactions with humans. Who knows? I may become so brainwashed in the next three weeks that it won't matter anymore, whether people talk to me or not.