Move; no stick

Sometimes we go thru immense ordeals which leave behind in their wakes seemingly innocuous things which can unexpectedly drain strength with delayed reactions we should have felt the first time around, had we known important contributing factors.  I’m being cryptic...I dislike that.  Okay; here goes....

My ex-fiancé, as he dubbed himself, was consistently—nay; obsessively—cheating on lying to, and stealing from me for at least the last eighteen months of our lives together.  We lived in Fallbrook together for two and a half years, and he would often alternate from intense expressions of love to irritated, “I’m working!” scolding for most of the second half of our living and working together.  I had to get to the root of it; it was immensely puzzling!  Therefore, the detective in me could never resist the urge to pry whenever he left his electronics unguarded and fell asleep or left the house.  Usually, these sessions proved to be intricate webs reaching out in every direction for additional, outside affections, including Google Maps trails that at once appalled and weakened the spirit inside of me. From disappearing hundreds in bank statements, to “1am appointments” and various midnight park or side-of-road excursions, the evidence was everywhere of the one thing I absolutely could not accept of him.  Toward the end of our living together, he would disappear for hours daily and nightly, selling my valuables and meeting his favorite mistresses.  It wasn’t because I was unable to provide enough of anything for him; Lord knows that no man should need that many hours of excess every single night and day.  It wasn’t because I was unattractive in comparison; my God you should see some of the females he met 😫 He proudly announced, to our horrors and chagrin, this past June, to his mother and me, “I want to have sex with every girl in the world!”  Even after such obvious cruelty and undeniable evidence, his parents refused to address any problem in him, so our emotional distancing became an unsurpassable chasm of grief for me and hedonism for him.  I should have known; he laughed merrily at the suffering he caused his ex wives and girlfriends.  When he finally fell head-over-heels in love with another, he neglected to tell me, but instead strung me along, still oozing honey-laden remarks of seemingly true adoration, unless he was “working.”  He disappeared often, also under the guise of working, mocking his gps location on Life 360, and heading around the corner, only to loop back to the musty swamp dwelling next door to us, or the bushes nearby.  He had met a married woman on backpage.com and I had ceased working away from home, determined more than ever to confront the homewrecker continually leaving happy faces on our windows, mirrors, refrigerator and windshields.  As it turns out, he had met up with her in our rooms at Hotel San Diego, Motel 6 in Hotel Circle, and Villa Serena in El Cajon, all places among several others in SD county which now have a kryptonite-like power over me.  Just as we humans are sometimes mired in tangible things, however, it’s important to keep moving forward.  Slowly at first, breathe in lovely oxygen and nitrogen, very deeply, and then begin moving your limbs.  You’ll get thru this, and the memories will cease to taunt power over you.  Do this, and make your loved ones proud.  I’m proud of you too.