As Oscar Would Say, "I Love Trash."
"Only you could top me, on the craziest ex-boyfriend scale."
This statement came from my friend, Gail.
After my latest mental breakdown she was the one friend I knew I could call and she would get it. She is never shocked by anything I tell her (and can often match me on this) and can find humor in the blackest of hours.
Many of us joke about having a freak magnet. I am afraid that all joking aside, Prick, has proved that I really had one on full force, when I met him.
One of the terrors I had experienced after he assaulted me, was clearing out his belongings that he started squirreling away in my home. It was one of the reasons I had confronted him that fateful night. I made it clear to him in the weeks before that I would not allow him to live with me as long as he was drinking and not working full time. He was failing miserably in both of those departments. I honestly was relieved because I wanted out even before this moment. I felt he was giving me more reasons to leave what was becoming a disaster of a relationship. So,it was a shock in the week before the breakup that he had seemed to have more belongings in my home. He stated that he was looking for an apartment but would just keep things safe at my house until he signed a lease. My gut told me this was crap but I didn't know how to call him on it. The day I finally asked him to leave was the day he disregarded every one of my boundaries. He was drinking, he wasn't working, he was not looking for an apartment, he had imposed himself on my family that morning and the last straw...he had his mail forwarded to my address.
Well, we know how my confrontation went.
While Prick was in jail, I began packing up what I thought was a few of his belongings. What actually transpired was me unearthing boxes and bags of clothes, books, photos, letters, papers, his keyboard. You name it. He had shit packed everywhere. I was sickened to see how blatantly he blew his way into my home. I was sickened that I had been emotionally so beaten down that I couldn't see it happening. The last straw was when we exchanged personal belongings through our legal counsel. It was when he sent me a handwritten list that I realized how far this man went. He had, unbeknown to me, used my attic crawl space as a storage unit. Every single item that this man owned was shoved in my attic. I don't even store shit up there! My best friend's husband took the liberty of clearing the stuff out. It took us two cars and a truck to haul his crap to the police station, where a third party would retrieve the items. I was completely creeped out by the whole ordeal. Needless to say, I had every lock changed and spent the next few weeks cleaning and rearranging my furniture, trying to shake off that invaded feel.
It has been over a year and a half now. I still occasionally stumble across something that the asshole left behind. It may be something as simple as a phone number scribbled on the back of a seldom used notepad or something as tangible as a photo of his younger daughter stuck in between the pages of one of my Al Anon books. Each time I stumble across an item like this, it brings back that metallic taste in my mouth that is actually my stomach up heaving a little.
I have cleaned out my house completely enough that I was finally feeling that every bit of Prick has been removed. All I can say is that my house is my sanctuary. It has been very important to me to retrieve that feeling of peace inside my home.
Recently, I had some minor water damage to some ceiling tiles in my kitchen. It occurred when I had some water seep through the bathroom floor and in to the kitchen ceiling below it. I realized that the tub and shower needed to be re caulked and that was where the water was coming from. Since I have had a few days off this past week, I decided it was a good time to re caulk my tub and shower. It proved to be the solution and the water problem stopped. Since the caulking, I had noticed there were some water stains left on the ceiling tiles in the kitchen. I plan to eventually replace the lighting and ceiling in the entire kitchen at a future date. I decided to just touch up the tiles with white paint instead of replacing them while I am waiting to renovate.
I got up on a step stool to carefully lift each stained tile out of it's grate. After bringing them down, I would touch up the small spots with paint and replace the tile. I saved the largest tile for last. It was the one over my refrigerator. I gently pushed up the tile to slide it out of the grate and it felt heavy. I began thinking it was saturated with water and I would have to replace it, after all. As I slid it towards me, a rush of plastic came spilling out, crashing to the floor. DVDs. I stood on the stool with my arm still upholding the tile and stared in shock. Porn. Lots of porn.
"Shit," was all I could muster.
I stepped down and examined the stash. Sure enough the asshole even put his initials on each DVD.
That was when I reached for the phone and called Gail. I told her the Christmas Porn Fairy paid me a visit and left me a stash in my kitchen ceiling. Which of course led to the question, "who the hell keeps porn in a kitchen ceiling???"
All I could ask her back is, "what the hell else is stashed in my house?"
I felt like that http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0071186/ Bad Ronald movie, had come to life in my own home. I can't tell you how creeped out I felt~ again. Almost a year and a half later, even with the dude in jail, here I am, feeling like he was still hovering over me in the very same kitchen where the assault began. How ironic that I was standing in the same spot where his first blow hit me.
I hung up with Gail after she made me laugh a bit. We joked that it must be the Porn Fairy invading my crib for Kwanzaa. I at least felt a little better as I began to completely remove each and every tile. When I had only open space above me, I grabbed a flashlight and examined every square inch, whispering, "Poooorn Faaairy. Come out,come out ,wherever you are." It turned up empty except for some dust. I swept out the dust and replaced the newly painted tiles.
So, what to do with the porn? Well Prozac has flat lined me enough to know I would have zero enjoyment of ever viewing that crap. My nephew is too young... maybe eBay? Can I mail his porn to him in jail? How about to his new girlfriend? Oooooh, his parents! His priest! Seriously, I was just trying to find humor where I really wanted to throw up. I took each disc out and put it through my shredder. Then I ripped off the paper labels and did the same with them. I threw it all in a bag with kitty litter and called it a day. As I stood at the dumpster, my neighbor walked up and yelled to let him help me, with that. I watched with smug satisfaction as the lid of the dumpster slammed down.
Throwing out the trash just took on a whole new meaning.
This statement came from my friend, Gail.
After my latest mental breakdown she was the one friend I knew I could call and she would get it. She is never shocked by anything I tell her (and can often match me on this) and can find humor in the blackest of hours.
Many of us joke about having a freak magnet. I am afraid that all joking aside, Prick, has proved that I really had one on full force, when I met him.
One of the terrors I had experienced after he assaulted me, was clearing out his belongings that he started squirreling away in my home. It was one of the reasons I had confronted him that fateful night. I made it clear to him in the weeks before that I would not allow him to live with me as long as he was drinking and not working full time. He was failing miserably in both of those departments. I honestly was relieved because I wanted out even before this moment. I felt he was giving me more reasons to leave what was becoming a disaster of a relationship. So,it was a shock in the week before the breakup that he had seemed to have more belongings in my home. He stated that he was looking for an apartment but would just keep things safe at my house until he signed a lease. My gut told me this was crap but I didn't know how to call him on it. The day I finally asked him to leave was the day he disregarded every one of my boundaries. He was drinking, he wasn't working, he was not looking for an apartment, he had imposed himself on my family that morning and the last straw...he had his mail forwarded to my address.
Well, we know how my confrontation went.
While Prick was in jail, I began packing up what I thought was a few of his belongings. What actually transpired was me unearthing boxes and bags of clothes, books, photos, letters, papers, his keyboard. You name it. He had shit packed everywhere. I was sickened to see how blatantly he blew his way into my home. I was sickened that I had been emotionally so beaten down that I couldn't see it happening. The last straw was when we exchanged personal belongings through our legal counsel. It was when he sent me a handwritten list that I realized how far this man went. He had, unbeknown to me, used my attic crawl space as a storage unit. Every single item that this man owned was shoved in my attic. I don't even store shit up there! My best friend's husband took the liberty of clearing the stuff out. It took us two cars and a truck to haul his crap to the police station, where a third party would retrieve the items. I was completely creeped out by the whole ordeal. Needless to say, I had every lock changed and spent the next few weeks cleaning and rearranging my furniture, trying to shake off that invaded feel.
It has been over a year and a half now. I still occasionally stumble across something that the asshole left behind. It may be something as simple as a phone number scribbled on the back of a seldom used notepad or something as tangible as a photo of his younger daughter stuck in between the pages of one of my Al Anon books. Each time I stumble across an item like this, it brings back that metallic taste in my mouth that is actually my stomach up heaving a little.
I have cleaned out my house completely enough that I was finally feeling that every bit of Prick has been removed. All I can say is that my house is my sanctuary. It has been very important to me to retrieve that feeling of peace inside my home.
Recently, I had some minor water damage to some ceiling tiles in my kitchen. It occurred when I had some water seep through the bathroom floor and in to the kitchen ceiling below it. I realized that the tub and shower needed to be re caulked and that was where the water was coming from. Since I have had a few days off this past week, I decided it was a good time to re caulk my tub and shower. It proved to be the solution and the water problem stopped. Since the caulking, I had noticed there were some water stains left on the ceiling tiles in the kitchen. I plan to eventually replace the lighting and ceiling in the entire kitchen at a future date. I decided to just touch up the tiles with white paint instead of replacing them while I am waiting to renovate.
I got up on a step stool to carefully lift each stained tile out of it's grate. After bringing them down, I would touch up the small spots with paint and replace the tile. I saved the largest tile for last. It was the one over my refrigerator. I gently pushed up the tile to slide it out of the grate and it felt heavy. I began thinking it was saturated with water and I would have to replace it, after all. As I slid it towards me, a rush of plastic came spilling out, crashing to the floor. DVDs. I stood on the stool with my arm still upholding the tile and stared in shock. Porn. Lots of porn.
"Shit," was all I could muster.
I stepped down and examined the stash. Sure enough the asshole even put his initials on each DVD.
That was when I reached for the phone and called Gail. I told her the Christmas Porn Fairy paid me a visit and left me a stash in my kitchen ceiling. Which of course led to the question, "who the hell keeps porn in a kitchen ceiling???"
All I could ask her back is, "what the hell else is stashed in my house?"
I felt like that http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0071186/ Bad Ronald movie, had come to life in my own home. I can't tell you how creeped out I felt~ again. Almost a year and a half later, even with the dude in jail, here I am, feeling like he was still hovering over me in the very same kitchen where the assault began. How ironic that I was standing in the same spot where his first blow hit me.
I hung up with Gail after she made me laugh a bit. We joked that it must be the Porn Fairy invading my crib for Kwanzaa. I at least felt a little better as I began to completely remove each and every tile. When I had only open space above me, I grabbed a flashlight and examined every square inch, whispering, "Poooorn Faaairy. Come out,come out ,wherever you are." It turned up empty except for some dust. I swept out the dust and replaced the newly painted tiles.
So, what to do with the porn? Well Prozac has flat lined me enough to know I would have zero enjoyment of ever viewing that crap. My nephew is too young... maybe eBay? Can I mail his porn to him in jail? How about to his new girlfriend? Oooooh, his parents! His priest! Seriously, I was just trying to find humor where I really wanted to throw up. I took each disc out and put it through my shredder. Then I ripped off the paper labels and did the same with them. I threw it all in a bag with kitty litter and called it a day. As I stood at the dumpster, my neighbor walked up and yelled to let him help me, with that. I watched with smug satisfaction as the lid of the dumpster slammed down.
Throwing out the trash just took on a whole new meaning.
Comments
Absolutely fantastic post! Good job!
Great! Keep writing…….
Good week………
" A Happy New Year''