A Pre-Marriage Episode

My old mercedes hydroplaned on the highway when I was 18. The sheriff told me it did a pirouette in the air. It was an all steel station wagon - super heavy. Landed on it's rear and bounced onto it's wheels.

I didn't have a scratch on me.

The night before I dreamt I was sitting on an old-fashioned park bench, made of wrought iron and wood. I was in an all white "space". There was only me, the bench, and my late grandfather. He appeared out of nowhere and sat beside me. He told me, "Everything is going to be ok in the end."

Then I woke up.

After the accident, my relationship with my mother deteriorated. I moved in with a guy I barely knew. Shared a room in his father's home. He was breathtakingly beautiful, model material. Except for the scar on his chest from two previous open heart surgeries. I thought I was making a good decision.

It was a horrible decision. He had anger problems. His mother was a drug addict and exposed him to many abusive boyfriends. His father, whom he had only known for a few years, meant well, and tried to help him, but now I know he was too damaged mentally for anyone to save. I wanted to save him. In addition to his looks, he was intelligent, had a lot of potential.

Because of his heart condition, no one would hire him. Because of the economy, no one would hire me. His father, in what I now know was a desperate attempt to help us mature, kicked us out. We were homeless for a few days. My mother had moved to California, so she couldn't take us in. But she did convince his father to let us come back.

I thought then my life was turning around. I was able to find a job and help with the household bills. Then the proverbial shit hit the fan. My boyfriend's mother ended up in the hospital. We didn't have the funds to visit. He didn't handle well. He didn't handle it well. More shit hit the fan, which I won't go into. I tried to kill myself at one point. My second suicide attempt. He became suspicious of my coworkers, who were all male. Would call me at work. Constantly. I started to get in trouble with my boss. He accused me of cheating on him with everyone. He became verbally abusive. Very verbally abusive. I'm surprised I didn't try to kill myself again.

One of my coworkers, a sweet man with a son a few years younger than me, took me to see a movie one day after work, to try to help me relax. I had told my boyfriend. He said he was ok with it. But he assumed we were going to the one two miles from home. We went to one in the opposite direction. Tickets were cheaper. Annoying teenagers didn't frequent it. My boyfriend decided to walk to the other theater in the rain. He hadn't thought to ask which one we were going to. I hadn't thought to tell. I didn't think he would do that. I thought he trusted me more.

When I got home, he wasn't there. His father didn't know where he was. We were frantic. We were about to call the police when he showed up, drenched. Naturally, we fought.

I was called a slut and a whore and every other word in the book.

Later that night, after his father went to bed, he became physical. My head struck the wall.

A friend of mine had offered a few weeks back to take me in. I left with everything the next day. I told my boyfriend it wasn't permanent. I meant it. I loved him. The next day, he called to apologize. He said he understood my decision. I had forgotten some shoes, so we arranged for me to pick them up right after work.

He killed himself 15 minutes before I got there.

To say I was devastated would be to sugarcoat it. But on that day I learned the true value of human life. I vowed I would never try to commit suicide again. He didn't believe anyone cared about him, yet people did. His funeral was packed. My state of mind wasn't helped by the fact that someone had spread the rumor it was my fault, that I had cheated, that I drove him to it.

I forced myself to go to work right after it happened. I felt as though he was still trying to control me. For my sake I couldn't allow that. It was better for me than staring at a TV screen all day. Everyone was very understanding. Even a coworker I despised gave me space. I learned just how much goodness could exist in people then.

It wasn't until a few months later that my life really started turning around though.

I'm sorry, but this is the most I can bring myself to write right now. I feel like I really need to do share this, like it's super important, but the memories are overwhelming. It's weird, this urge to share this episode of my life. As a general rule I avoid talking about it. I'm sorry if this struck you as disjointed.

When people I ask, I like to say I've moved past it, but really I haven't. I can't even get myself to read what I've written now, let alone edit it for spelling and grammar errors. I pretty much closed my eyes and let my fingers do as they pleased. I still am, and considering this is barely the surface of this episode, I might need to see a professional. At least just for this. The rest of my life I've come to terms with. But this... one day I'll share the details. I think I need to.

One day.