Saturday, December 29, 2012
Life on the Other Side: A Love Story
I am funded by a federal agency and need to take trips at least once a year to meet grant requirements. While on a trip two and a half years ago, I met Jason. Jason was in the same city as part of his job requirements, coincidentally he was not staying at the hotel where his colleagues were staying and was therefore interacting with my coworkers during the hotel happy hour; I walked by. With the difficulties between Peter and me being the centerpiece of my life, I was not interested in any part of “happy;” I was miserable and distrustful of everyone and wanted to politely greet my friends and have some quiet, non-drama time, in my room. But during the pleasantries Jason inquired as to who I worked for and asked for an introduction, so I was introduced as Dr. Walton, director of my state’s program, which intrigued Jason. A group of about a dozen of us talked for hours and I learned he taught mountaineering and survival in a remote location. Considering we all work in the area of violence prevention, I, at one point directed the conversation toward the question “if you had a terminal illness and were in the last days of life what would you do?” Answers included to right some wrongs, go places…the regular….Jason responded “I would want to free fall into the middle of Mecca during Ramadan with a man-pack-nuc (a back pack size nuclear device), because it would be nice to play by their rules.” I probably should have guessed what he really did at that point, but non-the-less, I was now intrigued.
At lunch the next day, our conversation continued, but more toward our difficulties with our soon to be x spouses. He was currently living at his “school house” in a closet sized room; I couldn’t get my spouse out of the house and had been advised to not leave myself (this is seen as abandonment). Though we lived 4 thousand miles apart our chemistry was so intense there was just a sense between us that we would somehow be together. That first “happy” hour was the happiest hour I’d had for decades.
We parted several days later, and knowing I’d be heading back into chronic and acute drama, chaos and fear, all without his protection, I deleted his number and messages and thought I’d never talk to him again. After a few weeks, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jason so I checked my cell phone bill and called him. It was so comforting hearing his voice; we had an immediate understanding for each other, going through the same difficulties with our soon to be x spouses. If anything happened my first thought was to tell Jason, and he thought the same. We helped each other day after day struggling through the worst times in both of our lives. We would go back and forth helping each other defend against a legal labyrinth of accusations our soon to be x spouses would throw at us, extremely similar, like they were reading from the same play book.
They are both still obsessed to this day: they despise us; “sacrificed” to be with us, because all others were better; and found nothing to love about us, even so they continue to try and ensnare us; anything to keep communication going. Their desire to control and hurt us, years later, is still as intense and as strong as the grip of eagle’s talons. This is in and of itself quite a bond and at first I thought we clung to each other, thousands of miles away, because of our common anguish, but as time went on I realized our relationship was much more than that. I honestly don’t think I would’ve had the strength to fight the court battles I did without Jason; the Walton’s are too strong a force when crossed. So when I learn of a women, or men, fearful to leave, I understand, it’s nearly impossible to get away from a sociopath, especially at the beginning when you still believe you are worthless, fear the unknown and people in general, and have no sense of who you are.
at 3:36 PM