Bubble of calm

You'd planned your life and the things around you so carefully. You were living where and how you'd always dreamed with a wonderful man who loved you and who provided for you. The house he bought was at the top of a hill and the world looked up to you.

Charmed. You were always charmed it was part of what everyone loved about you. Flaming red hair, blue eyes and more energy than the energizer bunny. I loved you to bits but to spend time with you in Portland was exhausting. On my last visit you told me go relax in the jacuzzi tub off the master bedroom. You did not tell me the toilet next to the bath was stopped up and overflowing with shit. Why were you still using it? Why didn't you just call a plumber to fix it? I took my bath and held my nose and my tongue. And when you came up with a glass of wine for me and talked on and on about how fabulous this bathtub was, I let my smile lie for me. I'm not good with lies. And I sensed you would not hear the truth. You were already trapped inside the life you were pretending to have. To you, there was no shit.

He'd left you by then. It was not official, but then how official does it have to be when you were never married. He was off skiing for the winter, driving an rented RV so he could just sleep in the parking lots. He'd invited you to go with him. I heard him. He meant it.

The food in your fridge was all past it's dates. Some of it by more than a year. Like Blanche in a Streetcar named Desire, you “always relied upon the kindness of strangers”. Literally and without a second thought. A call to go to dinner meant someone was buying you dinner. An invitation to go skiing in Park City meant airfare, room, food, alcohol, lift ticket, and likely a shiny new ski jumper.

You were living in a home owned by your boyfriend. A home you talked him into buying because you did not like his other home. This one had the blue and yellow kitchen you'd always knew you'd have. When you needed a car, he gave you money for a new one, and you bought a used Lexus instead. You had no money for repairs the car felt like the contents of your fridge. A part of your plan was to be rich. Looking rich was the first step.

He stopped by and you attacked him. Hitting him and throwing printouts at him. Accusing him of having an affair with a married minister. You had this planned, your counter attack. You'd been reading his emails and emailing back. In fact you'd already decided the affair was REAL and you'd told everyone. Including the woman's husband and congregation and your family, and all his friends. THIS was the reason he were leaving you after he'd promised to take care of you.
None of it was true, but you convinced many people it might be.

You began attacking yourself. Knocking yourself in the face and tossing yourself against the walls and furniture to inflict bruises. You yelled, "spousal abuse" over and over as he walked out the door.

You insisted you did not need to work, even through there was never any money in your wallet. For years I suggested you needed to plan for a life beyond him. You were sure he would always take care of you "he'd promised!" No, he didn't. He told me as much. He was a concerned about you as I was. But we were all co-dependents afraid if we suddenly stopped you would kill yourself.

And you did.
The process was not unlike your plan for your life.

One by one those that loved you confronted you. He was the first. The stock you'd talked him into selling that bought the house and the trip around the world and the lexus and his retirement - tanked. It was now worth next to nothing. He was no longer living in the house with you. He needed to sell his house. You insisted you should get half of the sale. He reminded you it was not your house and in fact he was loosing money on the sale. He was letting you live there until you could find another home. It was amazing that the house could be shown at all. And when it sold, you refused to leave. He and his friends had to come with a truck and haul your sprawled belongings to storage. You they hauled to another friend willing to take you in. You slept on the couch in their basement just as he had for all the months you'd been unwilling to leave his house. They were kind to you. They probably felt they could help.

Last night I became overwhelmed. Too much was going on around me I could not control and I kept breaking into tears. So I took a pill, two pills - just to relax and get my work done. But after a half hour the work was so unimportant. I moved to the living room and found myself sitting in the last place you sat in my home. It was just the softest corner and I thought "I could feel even better with a drink." Looking for white wine or vodka - I did think of you and the last time you were here. You took Valium then secretly drank every clear liquor in my house. I wanted to understand you, so I choose vodka sand sipped it watching TV. This was the feeling you were craving. The effect of the Valium and vodka had me feeling NOTHING - just a bubble of calm. No stress. No responsibilities. No reality.

I got myself back to bed but I don't remember it. Ben said he found me in bed fully dressed with my mouth wide open. The lights were on but I was out. I remember all the times I found you like that and the times you sleepwalked through my house looking for something you'd lost. I the end you'd lost everything.

You took a lot of Valium and wine before you walked into the swimming pool fully dressed in a bubble of calm nothingness.