The evening started well (despite the disastrous England performance against the Welsh).
“He’s on such good form tonight” friends said, “much happier than I’ve seen him in months.”
And he was. Happy. He was chatty, laughing, playful.
I left them to it. I was shattered and had a vague notion of playing rugby the next day. An athlete should always be at her best, I joke, putting out my cigarette.
I am woken up an hour later by shouting. Dazed, half asleep, I stagger to the bathroom to find it flooded. Water all over the floor, seeping into the hallway carpet. N is there, angry, shouting. “What the fuck’s going on with the fucking loo?” he asks. Loudly. Forcefully.
I mumble platitudes. Trying to wake up. Grabbing a toothbrush, I prop up the stopcock and the water stops gushing.
Anticipating bed, I wander back to the warmth, cosiness that I’ve just left behind.
*CRASH*
Turning, I see N, in the kitchen, sweeping things off the side. Ranting, shouting. Angry.
“Calm” I say, “what’s wrong? What can I do?”
He rants some more, eyes blazing, looking at me accusingly. “I hate this fucking house. I hate [this place]. I hate everything. Don’t you tell me to calm down. Don’t you tell me to calm down.” He has me up against the side. Scared. His hand is on my neck. There’s no pressure but his skin is burning me. I can feel my heart in my throat, thudding, skipping.
“Get out” he says.
I put on some clothes to sound of crashing mirrors and overturned tables. Without a backward glance, I shakily unlock the front door and trip down the stairs out into the open.
As I walk down the road, I get an odd phone call. “I’m a little irate. Goodbye.”
I stay with friends. They give me tea and whiskey. Offer cigarettes and sympathy.
A sporadic sleep, punctuated with “what if” dreams, dawns into Sunday. After rattling around a sleeping house, I decide to walk back to the house. Carnage greets me. The house is empty.
I turn when I hear a key in the lock. It’s N and his eldest brother. I see the telltale cotton wool in the crook of N’s arm*. N’s brother looks at me with kind eyes. Crying at the thought of what I’m about to do, I go back to the bedroom and put things as quickly as I can in my bag.
“So you’re really going? Running away? Well just fuck off then, don’t bother trying to get in contact.”
I turn, bag on shoulder and leave. His brother is waiting outside. “I’ll keep in touch,” he says. “I’ll let you know how he gets on.”
* After I left on Saturday night, N tried to commit suicide. A classic, cry for help attempt some would say. Half a bottle of gin, all the tablets he could find. He doesn’t remember anything about the night or the next day. He knows it’s over. Everytime I think about him, I cry.
All I can say is that I’m thinking of you…I would give you all the cigarettes and alcohol if I knew they could make the pain disappear.
Whilst im just a blog reader, I’m proud in a way of you writing this while things are so raw. You must be going through do much pain. Im so sorry.
I’m only a blog-friend, but I am thinking of you. It is a horrible situation – I’ve been there, on the receiving end – but (cornily) it does fade, with time.
Stay strong.
Ack
Horrible situation. I’m sorry it turned out like this.
That’s just awful. Seems so little that all I can offer is a virtual blog hug!
Strange how people can really be like that. Hope you will be fine. Don’t worry about him.
*hugs* lots and lots of *hugs*
I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I think it’s really brave of you to share it as it’s happening. I can only wish you the best, darling… I hope everything works out.
So sorry to hear what’s going on. You are being very brave and doing the right thing. He has his brother who obviously cares about him too, you need to look after yourself as well.
Stay strong.
Hugs.
x
I’m so very sorry to read this. It sounds like an absolutely awful situation. I know there’s nothing we can really do, but know that we’re thinking of you.
CP x
God. Poor Nutty. How absoutely horrible. Cry your heart out, let it happen, it needs to come out. In common with loads of other people “out here” I’d do whatever I could do if only it helped ! Hope the blogging is at least some sort of therapy.
Keep your friends around you, you’re going to need them to help you through the next few weeks and months. Keep talking. and crying.
Actually, I disn’t think England were as lamentable as I expected them to be on Saturday…
I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for you and I’m sorry for N. It’s an incredibly painful situation.
I know you might question whether you’re doing the right thing, but know that you are. He was endangering your well-being. There has to be something from within him to decide he doesn’t want to live like that and needs more help.
Please know you have lots of people here to support you. Take care of yourself.
What a sad story. I am really sorry.Take good care of yourself.
Oh pickle. Look after #1, okay? I suppose there comes a time when you just can’t help someone any more, no matter how much you love them xx
All – sorry I’m not responding individually to your very kind comments but *thank you*.
Everyone, real friends, online friends, random friends, has been so kind and understanding of my random head state since Sunday and I am stupidly grateful.
It’s lovely to know that somewhere, out there, are people who a) know what I’m going through and b) care enough to tell me they’re thinking of me.
Thank you.
So so sorry but I’m also so so glad that you won’t have another Christmas like the last one. By then you will be in the arms of another man who will truly treasure you in the way you so obviously deserve.
BM xx
Oh, love. Isn’t it hard to accept when someone you love is just too dangerous to have in your life? I wish you both the best.
xoxo
Gosh sweetie, when you said you’d had your own shit to deal with I didn’t realise the extent – I’ve only just got round to a good blog catch-up.
I hope everything’s for you is on the right track now… Despite missing him, it sounds like you needed to get out.
Lots of love in your direction xx
Thats so sad, I have tears in my eyes reading that.
Be strong xxx
Sweetie, I am so so far away but I’m thinking of you. Get on a plane and come to India if you need to get away – you know you’re always welcome.
Make sure everyone there is looking after you. You know they’re your family and they love you.
I’m sorry – for both of you. Stay strong. I know you are and I know you’ll pull through. Just ride out this awful awful time and it will slowly get easier.
God honey, my heart is aching for you!
xxxxxxx
[...] Abusing the internet It’s been three weeks. By rights, this should mean that I’m starting to live my life again, right? In reality, I’m not. It’s too far down the line to continue boring my friends and so it falls to you, dear anonymous internet, to take the burden of my woes. [...]
[...] been just over 3 months since the N thing and I think I’m ready to start doing new things. Meeting new people. Having some fun. [...]
[...] Warts and all [...]