Nothing left

I’m writing this down in the hopes that I will get some clarity. Parts of my story have been jumbled around in my head and maybe this will help bring some order.

A year ago my life was great. I had a live-in girlfriend I loved more than anything and hoped to marry. She was my best friend and when things were good between us, life was perfect. I had a stable, good paying job, a small but strong circle of friends and good ties with my family. I was a police officer for 6 years. I was promoted at 26 and spent the last two years as a patrol sergeant. For those who don’t know, I got that promotion at a much younger age than is normal. Simply, I was good at what I did and knew how to talk to people. I’ve felt that, for most of my life, there isn’t much I won’t be able to do well if I took an interest in it. I was the guy people came to for help. The guy who was always there for his friends, whether it was lending money, helping you move or anything else you needed. My life wasn’t perfect but I was happy.

Then she left…Things had gotten bad between us. It would start with something seemingly innocuous. She would ask me something like if I thought other girls were attractive. She was so laid back about it I thought she was just genuinely curious so I told her the truth. I tried to make it clear that, just because there is a base attraction to other women, it did not mean I thought any less of her or wanted anyone else. She didn’t really give me a response. She later asked me what I thought of guys who were attracted to girls too young for them. Not men who raped, cheated or molested, simply had an attraction. Again, I thought an honest answer would be fine. I told her that simple attraction can’t be helped. If a girl is shaped like a woman it is a normal instinct to find her attractive. I again tried to make it clear that I didn’t think it was right at all for grown men to chase girls much younger than themselves. Finally she asked me about my opinion of lesbian porn. I told her I think every man on earth has at least a passing interest to it but it was no big deal.

It didn’t work…She hated me for my answers. She had no problem with porn itself (I seldom watched it and it was something we did together from time to time. Our sex life was pretty active) but berated me for the lesbian thing, saying lesbians were disgusting. She said it made her feel unattractive. Worst of all, she called me a pedophile for my opinions. The arguments got more and more intense and unpredictable. It bled over into other aspects. She hated me for my job. I would tell her stories of things that had gone on and most of the time she told me I was wrong, even though I knew full well I had done things properly. She even got angry at me for making traffic stops, my most basic duty, saying it inconvenienced and scared people. She acted like I was a total monster based on my mere existence.

Admittedly I had an anger problem. I did from a very young age but I had learned how to control it. I developed a long fuse and, when things got to be too much, I would separated myself from situations and take a little time to calm down. She refused to stop or let me leave when I felt the arguments were getting too intense, then I would explode and scream at her. Finally she started hitting me. At first I didn’t hit her back, though to this day she insists I did. I had never struck a woman out of anger before (I had to get physical with women in my job a few times…something else she constantly brought up and tried to make me feel bad for.) After a few times of letting her hit me while calling me horrible, hateful things, I finally slapped her. It horrified me. I tried to break up with her but she begged me not to. She thought, in her own twisted way, that she was getting through to me. She later told me she thought, because I immediately turned from angry to depressed and shaken at what I had just done, that it was the proper way to “handle me”. What she didn’t realize is, every time she pushed me to the breaking point, it got a little easier to hit her the next time. After months and months of this pattern it eventually got to the point where she didn’t have to hit me anymore. If she got angry with me, I hit her. I was disgusted with myself. I was walking on egg shells hoping to avoid an argument while she displayed no fear at all of my behavior. She would say she was but the fact that the hate that spewed from her mouth never stopped, no matter what I did, suggested otherwise. Once, I tried to walk away from her and told her not to follow me. Of course she did anyway. I turned around, got in her face and was screaming at her to leave me alone. The second I turned to leave she was right on my heels trying to continue the argument. I would turn around and push her back. This happened over and over, her refusing to give an inch. Finally, I grabbed a knife and waved it at her. She paused and I thought finally, she gets it. I threw the knife down and turned to leave…with her right behind me. I was shocked. Nothing I did, no matter how crazy or over the top I acted, would get her to back off of me for more than a moment.

The real turning point happened when I came home for a meal break. I was in uniform. It wasn’t unusual for her to pick fights with me while I was on duty but that day she was particularly harsh. She told me I was a disgusting pervert. A pedophile. A hypocrite. I had no business being a cop and she should have me arrested. It was too much. I pulled my gun on her. Time seemed to stop as we just stared at each other. After a few moments I put it away and the argument continued as if it had never happened. I was so incredibly ashamed but I was more shocked by that than anything. Even that hadn’t gotten her to back off of me.

Peppered throughout all of these arguments were threats of suicide. She would steal my guns and hide them, making it clear she planned to shoot herself when I left her alone. If she couldn’t find one of my guns she would threaten to hurt herself in other ways. One day she set up a noose then came and told me good bye. After multiple threats, I had ever gun and knife locked down. She broke a light bulb and crushed the glass into her hand as a way to hurt herself. By that point, I just sat there and watched her.

Eventually she made the decision to leave me, yet she refused to move out. It was late October and she didn’t want to make it final until after the holidays. She begged me not to tell anyone and I stupidly agreed. The fighting stopped but what followed was two months of a different kind of hell. I came home every day and she acted like nothing was wrong. She would have sex with me just to get me to stop ignoring her. I tried to make her stop but she was aggressive. It came down to either having sex or beating her to make her stop so I was forced to be intimate with her. It hurt me so much more that way. She refused to reconsider or get help but also refused to leave. I suffered in silence.

Three weeks after Christmas she was still slowly packing her things. I was attempting to keep our lives separate. One night I went to see my friends and she tried to come with me. I refused. When I came home she asked if I had said anything bad about her to them and I sarcastically told her I wasn’t exactly singing her praises. I was blindsided by what came next. She wrote them a long, rambling letter telling them all the horrible things she thought about me and things I had done to her (most of the latter being true). She accused me of raping children (this was a new one to me), and so many other horrible things. She said she was in fear of her life and begged them not to tell me. My friends, not believing her, immediately called me and told me what had happened. It was at that point that I called her family and insisted they come and get her.

I thought with her out of my life I might be able to recover. I was wrong. Coming home to an empty home was oddly worse than the fighting. I started drinking. I tried to build up the courage to shoot myself multiple times but I just couldn’t do it. I stupidly opened my mouth to my work friends about my problems. They told my boss who put me on suspension pending a psychological evaluation. I passed with no trouble and returned to work but the damage was done. A permanent rift was formed between two of the few friends I had. I began to lean on the few friends I had left. It only got worse from there.

My drinking increased. I tried to stop. I called a friend, one of the ones my ex had written the letter to, and begged him to come by so I wouldn’t be alone. I called in sick to work because, even sober, I was in no shape for my duties. He had to get off of work himself and, by the time he showed up, I was drunk again. I’m missing pieces of that night but I remember trying to shoot myself several times. My friend stopped me…and to this day I wish he hadn’t. He eventually left me passed out on my front porch.

I went to work the next day and I knew something was wrong. Another officer who never hung back to talk with me was waiting. I approached slowly and he reached out to shake my hand. He grasped it and told me he had a mental health warrant for me. I tried to pull away but he and three other officers jumped on top of me. I fought but they stripped my gear off of me and forced me into handcuffs. I was sent to a mental institution for week.

I found out later that my friends had spoken with my family. They decided to report me to the chief of police. He directed them to a lawyer where the warrant was drawn up. I have never felt so betrayed in my life. In a way it was good that I was held for a week because for the first five days I had every intention of murdering my “friends” the moment I got out. My career was over. I had nothing to lose. After those five days I calmed down a bit. I was trying to force myself to think positively. Planning for the future and going back to school became my way of avoiding the present and the ever increasing agony of my own existence.

My sister was the only one I spoke with. As far as I knew, she was the only one who didn’t have a hand in what happened to me. She was good to me for a time. She took me home when I was released and had cleaned my apartment. After about a week, she lost patience with me. She blasted me for my religious beliefs (I’m an atheist) and refused to stop, even after I asked her to multiple times, so I stopped talking to her entirely. I later found out that she was actually more involved with what happened to me than the rest of my family, she was just the only one who knew to hide it.

So I left. I moved across the state and I’m trying to go back to school so I can try a new career. But I’m still struggling. I’ve lost everything. I still don’t have a job, I’ve made no new friends…I’m completely alone in the world. About the only “good” thing to come from all of this is that I conquered my anger problems. I don’t blow up, scream or throw things when I’m angry. I don’t even have to step away and separate myself to get back under control. Unfortunately, I’m also no longer able to hide behind my anger. I can’t look at the things I’ve done and blame her anymore. I have to feel the full brunt of my guilt and self-loathing. Every day I want to give up. I day dream about the bullet going through my head. A flash of pain…then nothing. I would no longer exist…but at least I wouldn’t hurt. At least the struggle would stop. The only thing keeping me from doing it is the fear of screwing it up and ending up crippled, disfigured or brain damaged.

I was a good person. I helped everyone who later betrayed me. I worked hard. I was good to people. I deserve for something good to finally happen to me. But it hasn’t and I’m afraid it never will. What am I supposed to do? Struggle and fight through the next few years of crippling loneliness, get a new career…and then what? I’m a broken man with nothing more to offer and no motivation left in me. The only thing that gets me through most days is drinking until I pass out. At least then I don’t have to think about what has happened to me. And that is what it all comes down to. I just want the pain to stop.