Shh… Trust?

rememberingGetting there. Continuing the journey for answers. This time we begin to look at the ‘important’ men (or boys) and how I ended up with my son’s father…

So while my brother prepared and then went off to university, I stayed home and continued my downward spirals. Considering how often I would change my friends, it’s surprising that I managed to enter a relationship that lasted almost 6 years. Well, I’m not sure if I should say almost 6 years, considering how often we broke up, sometimes for months. R & I got along well most of the time. He was 3 years older than me and well… his father was an alcoholic.

We always got along better when I was at my worst… my depressive episodes, my drug abuse, when I was on drinking binges, even when I had slipped into agoraphobia. When I could function on my own, we would have a short happy period and then we would begin to fight. Yeah, I can see how his father being an alcoholic affected his life, just as mine was affected by my upbringing. He had a hero complex and needed someone to save, needed to be needed. I needed someone to want to save me… needed to be wanted.

It was with R that I climbed the cliff where I froze and who I was living with when I wanted to hang myself. We went through all of that. We would fight, eventually we’d reach breaking point and go our separate ways. Later, sometimes months later we would… talk.  These times were almost the only times we would talk and I mean really talk, about what was inside us. As soon as we would begin to talk, the clock would begin ticking and it was only a matter of time before we’d end up together again. I know I went to some extreme lengths to win him back at times. It was always fun for both of us and R was safe. I suppose for both of us it was mostly a case of better the devil you know. Yes, the relationship was very dysfunctional. While together we didn’t learn new ways of behaving, all we did was continue patterns of behaviour that both of us had learned as children.

I was 21 when we broke up for the last time. I suspect if our former neighbour didn’t get him drunk one night and move in the following week we might very well have… talked again. I’m grateful to her for making sure that didn’t happen. I say that because we really were terrible for each other. It wasn’t a healthy way to live. We both knew it, but couldn’t help ourselves. We did become friends again later. By that time I was pregnant with my son.

But that’s jumping a little too far ahead. Between R and my son’s father S, were two Js. Confused? I’ll stick to initials here. Anyway, J1 was a former boyfriend. We’d only dated officially for 2 weeks back when I was 13, but we never seemed to be able to let go of each other. I could never let myself date him again, but he always seemed to be there for me. It was J1 who helped me stop drinking when I was 14. His family moved across the country not long after and we wrote to each other regularly. He arrived back in Canberra for a visit the day after R and I first kissed. I knew J1 was coming and I also knew he was hopeful of more than friendship, so I threw myself at R to stop that happening. His feelings were too intense for me.

Anyway, going forward a bunch of years and J1 was traveling around the country, visiting old friends and wanted to visit me as well. We spent time going to watch live bands and talking for the short time that he was here. The night before he was leaving to head back to WA I began to cry. I drank too much that night. I was… lost. I had known he would be leaving soon, but when the time came, I felt… lost. I rang him and invited him to stay the night… I made it clear my intentions weren’t platonic.

He arrived and it was bittersweet. It was our first time together and we both knew it would be the only time. We were saying goodbye.

The rest of this tomorrow.


Image Credit: © Ami Beyer |


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