Life in My NUTSHELL

justmesandi

…….as I packed up the literature I had acquired during my stay, I should have reminded myself to read it.

I walked out those doors with the non-other than Ed Daniels. Thinking back, that was a door that opened; I should never have walked thru. Keep in mind, my friends, Monday morning quarterbacking, never will change the game. I was so deep in co-dependency, and I had not a clue as to what it even was.

Webster describes it as (": a psychological condition or a relationship in which a person is controlled or manipulated by another affected with a pathological condition).

Such as an addiction to alcohol, infidelity, or any mind-altering substance.) broadly explained the dependence on the needs of or control by another: Ed was the perfect addict, and legitimate Sociopath. (A sociopath is a term used to describe someone who has an antisocial personality disorder (ASPD). People with ASPD can’t understand others’ feelings. They’ll often break the rules or make impulsive decisions without feeling guilty for the harm they cause.) People with ASPD may also use “mind games” to control friends, family members, co-workers, and even strangers. They may also be perceived as charismatic or charming, and oh, boy, did Ed fit that description to a tee. But to me, he was an answer to my prayers. He was good looking and attentive; little did I know he could read me like a kindergarten picture book. A Sociopath can smell its prey like a search and rescue dog can smell a corpse. There was a bonus I got with Ed; he was a RECOVERING alcoholic. To me, that was a great gift I was given. Back then, my knowledge of Alcoholism was next to nothing. I was always told that my Dad was an alcoholic, but I adored him, and his beer-drinking on the weekends could not have been Alcoholism, right? I sure learned the hard way just what that entailed.

Ed took me touring the AA Meetings with him. He was very active and traveled the area preaching the glorious life as an alcoholic in recovery. I will let you in on a secret, Ed was a closet pot-smoker. He would drag me around with him when he spoke, but he would toke on that roach religiously before each talk. Oh, one other thing I will add here is Ed lived a life as not only a legitimate Sociopath but most of it in what they call a DRY DRUNK. A dry drunk is a set of negative habits and attitudes. A recovering alcoholic can easily slip into these habits. A dry drunk can take the joy out of life for an alcoholic and his loved ones. I can't quite understand that description since there did not seem to be much joy in our lives to begin with. A dry drunk is often a signal that a relapse is coming. This can happen even if the alcoholic has been sober for years. Well, Ed’s relapse the big one came during the last year of his life. Stayed tuned for that chapter.

I hated taking My Mother's advice, mostly since I was a so-called adult woman in my early thirties. That input from her about Ed was one time I should have had my eyes and ears wide open to her advice. She totally loathed everything about him, and I defended him with just as much passion.

Oh, did I forget to mention that I am very much an empath? I know the challenges of being a highly sensitive person. When overwhelmed with the impact of stressful emotions, empaths can have panic attacks, depression, chronic fatigue, food, sex, and drug binges, and many physical symptoms that defy traditional medical diagnosis. To me, with all the good that can come from having that trait, it can very definitely be a curse as well. After saying all that - how the hell did I miss the mark when I first met Ed! I was determined to change any shortcomings he may have. I bet that has a familiar ring to someone reading this story.

The first couple of years were hit and miss, but I was determined not to have another failed marriage. It seems some of the original crap about Ed's past and his ability to feed his lies to anyone that would listen, which I bought hook and sinker, was not exactly the whole story that Ed hid perfectly. Ed was a master of verbal abuse. Then there was the proverbial "I am so sorry,” that I sucked up everytime. I thought to myself, "well, at least he is not physically abusive." In case you do not know this, one of the sociopaths' most vital tools in their belt is their ability to gift you with an abundance of apologies. A good co-dependent sucks it up like a camel drinking water in the desert.

Even though I was sinking deeper and deeper under Ed’s control, a development happened that would finally solidify Ed’s devotion to me, so I thought. I can still see and feel the vibrations in the room when I announced that we were going to add to our family. That was supposed to be an enduring moment, one you put in your “to remember” memory box. It was undoubtedly a memory of myself lying on the kitchen floor that ended up stuck in my precious memory box. Stunned as to what just happened, I was totally at a loss for words, which is not in my character profile. Little did I know that I had finally pushed that hidden button that put him over the edge. It unleashed the devil I would come to know very well. At just that moment, I took the “well at least he is not physically abusive” off the table.

Over the years of practice, I had become a master at hiding my feelings and emotions to friends and family. Crying in front of anyone was one of the worse sins I could do. I am not exactly sure of the timing here, but I said nothing to anyone about the pregnancy or Ed’s reaction to my news. The secrets we co-dependents keep to protect our abusers have to be one of the most unanswered questions that mental health professionals still struggle with. Thinking back all those years now, it still baffles my mind why the hell I would want to protect someone like Ed. Never-the-less I did and did a mighty good job at it. Speaking of sociopaths, they are dual personalities. One personality that can charm a snake and one that is a snake. Everyone (except my Mother) adored Ed. If I had poured my heart out to any one of our friends or family members, they would consider me the looney one. Ed never ever showed that hidden demon that lived inside of him to anyone except me.

I promised you total honesty, transparency, no hold barred truth.

……….so let us get to it! I am about to tell you one of the several things that I am most ashamed of. However, in my defense, the information highway was just a one-lane highway back in the day. We have come leaps and bounds in technology, finding out just where life as we know it begins. That is not an excuse; I am just stating a fact. If you read my last posting, I was trying to collect my thoughts about handling Ed’s reaction to what I thought was terrific news. Ed was taking on a whole new persona. We barely spoke, and when we did, an argument would quickly ensue.

It seemed most of the time, that conversation would escalate into a physical encounter. Ed was a master at hurting you and not leaving a mark. He repeatedly mentioned that word (abortion). When was I going to make an appointment? He promised life would be so much better. He did not want a child, oh did I mention he had a son he abandoned when Eddie was 5 years old, now 16, Eddie will be a chapter all his own. My life, as I knew it, was getting more and more complicated by the day. I had not told anyone about what was going on. Still, I had to decide soon as what I was going to do. . I can only tell you procedure day itself is still a blank in my memories. I was the dutiful wife doing what my husband was asking of me. Remember Sunday Morning Quarterbacking is a totally useless reaction.

It was so easy back then. My regular General Practitioner solved my dilemma in his office. No-fuss, no muss wham bang it was done. I hung my head in shame and turned my hope on what Ed had promised me that our life would be so much better if I would only do this for him.

Boy, looking back, I really was the poster child for Co-dependency.

I think for a short time, he did settle down somewhat. That at least justified in my mind that I had done the right thing. You can’t think any worse of me than I felt about myself. It wasn’t very long after one of the worse decisions of my life that life smacked me in the head and made me realize that we are not entirely in charge of our circumstances. Somethings are just going to happen come hell or high waters. Well, I certainly was not in charge the day that I hung my head in the toilet bowl right after my feet hit the ground. Yep, you guessed it, I was in a rerun of the movie “Groundhog Day” How was I going to tell Ed that whatever birth control we were using was not working? How was I going to get out of this one? I had to have a real “Come to Jesus” meeting with myself.

Somewhere deep in my illness of depression, anxiety & Co-dependency, I was still there. Hiding somewhere was Sandi, and it would take me years and years to find her. However, God was on my shoulder when the decision was made that I was not doing that deed again. I was already over my limit of sins for the year. Heather was already 10 years old, I was unemployed, and Ed was doing what Ed did best, out in the world trying to be Mr. Self-important somewhere. By then, we lived in a small town named Corry, Pennsylvania, just outside of Erie. My memories are pretty fragmented around that time. To this very day, I still do not know if my memory problem was from trauma or the ECT’s (Electroconvulsive therapy) I would be subjected to in the future.

So I faced my demon and told him that I was not going through that again. It could have only been divine intervention when I let Ed know he could grow some balls and take on his responsibility or get the hell out of our lives. It was not me that mouthed those words, but in my heart, I really was hoping he would choose the latter. So for the next 8 months Ed made, for the most part, my life a living hell. I will spare you all the details of those months until we get to 33 weeks pregnant. My depression had worsened, and my anxiety was out of control. After the day, Ed threw me down a flight of stairs that I knew for both our sakes (baby & Me) I had to get away.

Back in the 1980s, our Mental Health Care in this country was far superior to the way it is today. One of our local hospitals (Hamot Hospital) in Erie, the hospital I ran to when Rich gave me the eviction notice, had this tremendous little private unit for people just like me. I was a miserable mess, and fortunately, I had hooked up with an excellent OB/GYN that was also a friend. My Mental Health was at a breaking point, and it was affecting my physical health in ways that were harmful not only to me but to the little girl we were expecting. Dr. Guthleben made arrangements for me to spend the remaining time of my pregnancy in that safe space, which became my refuge.

Ed's family lived about an hour and a half from the hospital I was confined in. As fate would have it, one of Ed's twin sisters had the same due date as me ; how crazy is that? By then, Heather lived with her father (Rich-remember him?) and his new wife, Marge. Ed had virtually not a care in the world and spending most of his time at his family’s home. He might visit once a week if he saw fit. I am not sure how I felt about that – looking back now, I believe it was a blessing not having to deal with him.

At 39 weeks, I was over it, way over it. I just wanted it over, giving little thought to what would happen once I was released with a brand new baby and a 10-year-old. I do have vivid memories of the evening Dr. Guthleben came to see me. I just about begged him to induce me; I could not take anymore both physically, to say nothing of my mental health. . He examined me, and by morning I had started labor. I had this real fear of delivery due to the hell my labor was with Heather ten years earlier. Another little bit of advice, projection, is another of those worse enemies in life. I was projecting my experience of labor with Heather to this upcoming labor. Krista broke through into the world with the personality she carries still today. “Here I am, world’ I could swear she yelled that loud and clear. Maybe you are asking, “where is daddy” for this glorious moment, well, so was I. Seems he had to stay with his sister who just happened to be giving birth at that same moment. She was giving her child up for adoption, and I was trying to figure out how to make our lives work. Ed for some reason thought supporting her was more his duty than seeing his own daughter born. Krista was perfect and earned the title of being the first baby born in Hamot Hospital Mental Health Unit. They had her picture hung there for many years to come. We have kidded her over the years that she held that title. My Krista seems to have inherited my sick sense of humor, so she is okay with that label.

Ed finally showed up hours after her birth. The proud father, all of a sudden, emerged. Well, that is what I thought or maybe just what I saw because I wanted to. With Krista in tow, I left the hospital, trying very hard to convince myself that when it came to her actually being here, things would magically be better.

Right around the time Krista began to walk, we lived in a brick stone in a low-end rent part of Erie, Pa. I walked on glass, trying to jog between Ed’s mood swings. I had a paper route; Heather was in a Catholic School just a block from our house. The only close friends I had in the neighborhood were my neighbors to the left of us. They were a wonderful elderly Polish couple. I confided in them quite a bit about my marriage to Ed. One hot day as I walked through the front door, I must have done something to trigger the demon in Ed. Before I knew it, I had an entire brown lunch bag full of my hair, a crying baby, and a terrified middle-schooler running next door as they called the police. When the police showed up, our screwed-up system made me go to a shelter with my two kids while Ed was permitted to stay in his home. As any good co-dependent would do, I refused to press charges and no consequences for Ed again.

After a week at the shelter, I could not take it anymore. I wanted my house back. Heather needed to get back to school, and Krista needed some sense of normalcy in her life. Once again, I packed us up and made my way to the house. I use the word HOUSE because I never really felt I had a HOME the entire time I was with ED.

Within a few months, he moved us to a small town outside of Erie. It was really remote and unfriendly. Jump forward a whole year, things were bleak in Pennsylvania. Not that Ed was good at keeping a job, but now he had a real excuse. “ It was the economy, stupid” is the answer I would get when I prodded him about working. I was milking cows twice a day, yep you read that right, milking cows. Kind of funny now, but that time was probably some of the best days. Something about having those Jersey Cows with those huge eyes looking at you made your soul feel very peaceful.

I came home one day after morning milking to Ed in an unusually good mood. He had made the decision after talking to his banker brother that we were going to Austin, Texas. That was the hot spot in the country; he indeed would find work there. Once again, the dutiful wife packs up Krista, Ed, and myself. Heather refused to go, and with Rich threatening court action against me using of course my label of mental health and Ed’s behavior as ammunition. Heather would remain with Rich & his now-wife Marge.

As sad as I was leaving Heather behind, I felt I had no other choice. Being co-dependent, I had almost everyone of the following characteristics.

Characteristics Of Co-Dependent People Are:

1. An exaggerated sense of responsibility for the actions of others

2. A tendency to confuse love and pity, with the tendency to “love” people they can pity and rescue

3. A tendency to do more than their share, all of the time

4. A tendency to become hurt when people don’t recognize their efforts

5. An unhealthy dependence on relationships. The co-dependent will do anything to hold on to a relationship; to avoid the feeling of abandonment

6. An extreme need for approval and recognition

7. A sense of guilt when asserting themselves

8. A compelling need to control others

9. Lack of trust in self and/or others

10. Fear of being abandoned or alone

11. Difficulty identifying feelings

12. Rigidity/difficulty adjusting to change

13. Problems with intimacy/boundaries

Most of the characteristics I was a master at. I would like to add one, not on this list, that I practiced daily with great passion. I was going to change this man no matter what it took. Even after all that had happened between us, I convinced myself he had good in him, and by God, I was going to turn him into the best he could be

I guess looking back, moving to Texas was one of the good things that happened. Just think no more shoveling snow, no snow tires, and freakin’ cold winds. Got the U-haul hooked up the truck and got on the road for Austin.

The house was in a duplex in a neighborhood that was actually quite nice. Ed lucked out and landed a job with 3M Company in janitorial. He made a fair wage, and I went to work at a Credit Company. I walked around most of the time in a fog of my own making. I did not want to see anything wrong happening around us. Heather eventually came to live with us in Texas in her senior year.

Come with me to the next chapter to the insanity that has just begun. SEE YA SOON !!!!

“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”

― Haruki Murakami