IN WRITING THIS, I AM NOT ATTEMPTING TO DEMONIZE ANYONE.
WE ALL HAVE OUR FAULTS, ME INCLUDED.
I ADMIT MY MISTAKES FREELY.
As you read this, keep in mind that Kelly is twenty-five years younger than myself.
Well, folks, it's been a while since I last wrote anything here. Over two years, about the same time that I reconciled with my ex-fiancee, Kelly. So much has happened since then. I became sick with Hepatitis C, was hospitalized for E-Coli, underwent Interferon treatment for a year, got a new job, lost it, grappled with homelessness and poverty, and finally ended up moving to Arizona in April of 2012.
We had a tumultuous first year together. I met Kelly in a rehabilitation clinic located in the Santa Cruz Mountains in November of 2008. In September of 2008, after I had spent two weeks in Ireland that didn't go as planned, I returned home and attempted suicide by alcohol and Datura. My life spiraled downward during the ensuing month, until I lost my job, my home, my future. That is when I decided to seek help and enter Camp Recovery. I didn't fall in love with Kelly immediately, at first I was only infatuated with her 'bad boy' image. Eventually, though, I convinced myself that I could not live without her, and pursued her until I had her.
There were good times, but the abuse outweighed them by far. She had told me that she had always abused women, that they were all 'bitches' in her eyes. One of her favorite sayings was 'Bitches come and bitches go. If I get rid of one, I'll have another before the day is over'. She was unfaithful. She told me that she had spent six months in jail for assault with a deadly weapon on her older sister. Warning signs. She had been committed to a psychiatric ward for a year as a teenager. She had two restraining orders on her from her previous relationship. Had shoved a knife up the vagina of a girl she suspected of stealing her drugs. More warning signs. I foolishly ignored them. Even though I had never been in a relationship such as this, I continued in it. I hung on through countless incidents of physical, emotional, and spiritual abuse. The Sheriffs department was involved on numerous occasions. I had my ribs cracked, my right cheek bone fractured, bruises and contusions, black eyes, bloody lips, my hair pulled out, and still, in the name of 'love', I persisted. She formed an alliance with a local 'meth clan', and spent as much time as she possibly could with them. She had an affair with one of the women. When she couldn't 'hang out' with them, and found herself alone with me, she was miserable. I became involved with these people, and that is how I was infected with Hepatitis C. For some reason, I was not able to stay angry with Kelly for long, always forgiving her, excusing her behavior, feeling sorry for her.
In early October, 2009, I got drunk, and stayed drunk for several days. Kelly and I had gotten into an argument, and I was trying to drown out the bullshit. Stupidly, I got into my car one morning and drove to the liquor store to buy more alcohol. I was fine on the way there, but on the way back, missed my turn into the driveway, hit a water main, totaled my car, but was able to park it. I grabbed my purchase, went into the apartment, and went back to bed. Hours later, the Highway Patrol was at my door. They did a breathalyzer on me, arrested me, took me to the station, and booked me on an aggravated DUI. My first ticket EVER in my life! I lost my license, my dignity, and much of my self respect. I walked home from the jail that night alone, in my pajamas. Kelly refused to answer my phone calls, so I had no choice.
On October 29th, 2009, in a drunken jealous rage, Kelly attempted to murder me by strangulation. Our roommate intervened and she was arrested and taken to jail. I could not deny what had happened to me to the Sheriffs Deputy because of the livid bruises and swelling on my neck. They took photos, inspecting my body carefully. There were two restraining orders issued against her, one civil, which I filed, and one criminal, which the District Attorney filed. Needless to say, I had absolutely no contact with her for six months, except for court hearings. No contact, that is, until I was diagnosed with Cerebral Atrophy, and decided, thinking that I was going to die soon, that I needed to forgive those who had harmed me in life. That is when I contacted Kelly, and the saga began again.
Kelly came back into my life in June of 2010. We thought that we would be able to work out our relationship, get past the abuse she had inflicted on me, and end up with something solid. Both of us grappled with addiction issues, Kelly wrestled with anger issues, but somehow we managed to make things last for awhile. During the Summer of 2010, I was diagnosed with Hepatitis C. Kelly was furious with me. Her answer to the problem was to get out of control drunk. She cried, ranted, raved, accused, and generally tormented me for being sick. A few days after, we went on a bike ride to Santa Cruz. During the ride, I crashed my bike on a park trail, skidded on the black top, and ended up scuffed and bloodied. She recoiled in horror from me, refusing to assist me or give me any aid. Fortunately, there was a park employee nearby with a first aid kit, and I was able to doctor myself up.
Instead of taking me home to rest, she insisted on continuing our ride, wanting to meet one of her lady friends at a bar in downtown Santa Cruz. Her friend was a needy sort of woman, unsure of herself in many ways. The friend made the comment that she was unattractive and unappealing. Kelly spoke up, 'No, you are totally fuckable' is what she said. That infuriated me! I couldn't believe that she could have said something like that, and in front of me! Somehow, we ended up at the friends apartment. The friend left for a dinner engagement, telling us to make ourselves at home. Kelly and I got into an argument about her earlier statement, and I tried to leave the apartment. When she restrained me from leaving, we ended up in a brawl. My jaw dislocated, my face bruised and bloody, my eye blackened. She came out of the fight without a scratch. I was much smaller than her, not as strong, and certainly not as brutal. I spent several days in bed recovering from the assault.
Still, I clung to the relationship. I can't for the life of me understand what is was that I needed so desperately. My children begged me to leave her. They had never cared for Kelly, only accepting her because they loved me. They reminded me that she had caused me to lose most of what I owned, years of accumulation, but what they were most concerned about is that she would eventually end up taking my life. They feared for their Mother, but 'Love' is blind. I persisted. I ignorantly thought that I could change her, that everything would work out and be just fine.
I had no income, and Kelly only had a pittance from unemployment. We were forced to find another roommate to help us pay the rent on our apartment. Most of the time that wasn't enough, and I found myself searching the area for charitable organizations to help us out. We both applied for food stamps. I made my first ever visits to food banks, researched homeless shelters, grasped at straws that were not even there. We got around by bike, bus, or on foot.
The months dragged by. I enrolled in college, hoping to find a solution to our problem through education. I thought that perhaps if I had a degree in a better field than property management, that I would be able to support both of us. I was doing well in school, but knew that soon I would start my Interferon treatment, and I would be sick. September 29th was my first injection. On October 3rd, I ate a sundae from Burger King. Within a half hour, I was in severe pain and I felt as if I had been cut in two. I could barely walk. Kelly helped me to walk the mile to the bus stop and took me home on the bus. She didn't really know what to do. She put me in bed and covered me up. I begged her to call the hospital and talk to a nurse. My temperature climbed, and on October 5th, my temperature had soared to 105 degrees. Kelly panicked and put me in a cold shower. I was so sick that I barely remember anything, including being rushed to the hospital and and being admitted with E-coli.
My blood pressure had dropped to 53 over 38, I suffered two heart attacks, and had to have a Central venous catheter inserted in my chest, as my veins had collapsed. I was in intensive care for five days, telemetry for four days. The entire time is a vague blur in my memory. By the time I was discharged, it was too late to return to college. I had missed too much time. We were facing eviction from our apartment, had no money, no food, no one to turn to, and really not an ounce of hope. That is when my daughter-in-law phoned me.
She told me about a job in her area, about forty miles away from where we were living. She gave me the phone number to the property and suggested that I give them a call. I did and an appointment for an interview was set up. The job was in my field of property management, perfect. I was still weakened from my bout with E-coli, but made arrangements for my son to give me a ride to Campbell for the interview. I was so nervous, so uncertain, not a lot of confidence in myself. But, I was called back for a second interview and offered the job. $3400.00 per month, a two bedroom two bath apartment, all of the utilities paid for, and full benefits! Plus, a two weeks paid vacation every year! Oh my goodness, my hopes and dreams had been answered!
Kelly was angry when I told her we were going to move. She insisted that we would be better off in a homeless shelter, that we would be better able to work through our issues in that setting. I argued that I really needed this job, the medical benefits would pay for my Hepatitis C treatment, and we would be safe and secure in our own home. I considered moving without her. I really wish that I had.....
I started my job on November 1st. I stayed with my son and his family during the first week. Kelly stayed behind to pack the apartment. I had managed to work with the landlord of our apartment, give a thirty day notice, and prevent an eviction on my record. Life was going to be good after all. I played with the idea of leaving Kelly behind, but I just couldn't bring myself to do that. We spoke on the phone each evening. Her behavior was odd, but familiar. You see, Kelly is a Methamphetamine addict, in addition to being an alcoholic. As it turned out, she had invited a former 'friend' over to the apartment to 'help' her pack, and they decided that smoking Meth would get the job done faster. I don't know why, but I forgave her for that.
We moved into the apartment a week later, and because I was working, Kelly unpacked most of the boxes and set things up. We settled in. I was working full time, forty hours per week. Running on empty, undergoing the Chemotherapy for the Hepatitis C, I was completely drained. I would collapse on the couch at my lunch breaks, and also when I returned from work. She insisted, however, that I stay awake at night with her, wanting me to drink alcohol with her and 'have fun'. I did a couple of times, but it only served to make me sick, ( it certainly wasn't good for my poor liver! ) and bring out unresolved issues. It was then that the underlying anger started to surface. I began seeing Kelly for who she was. The anger began to stay with me, anger and resentment over past issues, current issues, and what I could see as future issues.
The days went by and turned into weeks and months. We were still on foot, relying on my family for rides to the store and to doctors appointments for myself. We were more or less settled in, but I never felt like I was home. We had a fairly nice Christmas, hosted a holiday dinner, spent time with my family and hers. We had enough money to buy gifts for each other and our families. We tried to enjoy ourselves together, have some fun times, but it was never good enough. Winter passed.
In the Spring of 2011, my youngest daughter fell on hardships, and I offered a home to her and my four year old Granddaughter. Kelly was furious! She did not want my daughter in our home. I refused to see them homeless, and told Kelly that she could leave if she did not like it. Blood is blood, and I was not going to turn my back on family. It was a mistake. Kelly began drinking with my daughter, partying at night, 'bumping' music at all hours, making a nuisance of herself. My employer caught wind of all this, and told me that my daughter would have to move out. I was mortified. My daughter did move out, but Kelly continued to drink and carouse by herself. We were always being watched by the owners son, who lived across from our apartment, and my job was in jeopardy.
There were frequent visits from one of Kelly's friends, her 'former' Meth dealer. He would come and stay at the apartment for several days at a time, both of them staying up all night, bumping music, and sleeping most of the next day. She denied using Meth, saying that they were only drinking, but in retrospect I highly suspect that she was. And still, we were being watched. When she didn't have her friend around, Kelly would fall into deep depressions that I was unable to pull her out of. I insisted that she seek psychiatric help, which she did, but it just didn't do any good. Medications are only helpful if you take them. She wouldn't. At least not consistently.
During the Summer, I enrolled in DUI class, as I was determined to get my drivers license back, which I finally did the beginning of August. I then started saving money from my paychecks, at great sacrifice, to buy a car. It was an uphill fight with Kelly. My decisions were never good enough for her, and she tried to undermine everything I was hoping to accomplish. She continued to have bouts with depression, and in September of 2011, during one of her drunken moments, told me that she was going to kill our cat, and then kill herself. Her behavior was so erratic that I was forced to leave the apartment and go to my eldest daughters home. Since my daughter knew Kelly, she suggested that I call the Police Department and have a welfare check done on her. I did, the Police went, and they took her into custody. She was placed in what is called a 5150 at the County Hospital, a mandatory three day psychiatric hold. I was finished, or so I thought.
My employer's son witnessed all of this, and told him about it. I was questioned when I returned to work the next day. I told the truth, that she was not arrested, but had been taken to the hospital for observation. I knew that I was in trouble. I told Kelly not to come back, I did not need any more complications in my life, that I was in danger of losing my job. She could come by for her belongings, that was all. But, that didn't last long. She was back within a week.
I tried to live as normally as possible, do my job at the office, keep my head above water. But I knew that I was going to lose my job. The owner didn't like me anyway. He is homophobic, didn't like having a Lesbian working for him, and I knew that he was looking for every reason to get rid of me. Each day that I went to work, I felt like I was going to my own execution. I was really good at what I did, the residents of the complex loved me and gave me great reviews, but I was on shaky ground. Kelly had jeopardized everything.
The Monday after Thanksgiving, I got ready for work and went to the office. A few hours after I opened the office, the owners daughter came in, which was highly unusual since her habit was to only come in on Fridays. She sat behind her desk for a while. I noticed that she was uncomfortable. Looking at me, she walked over to my desk. She said 'I have some bad news for you. You have been replaced.' My heart sank. She handed me a termination letter and two severance checks, and told me that I had five days to vacate my apartment. I didn't ask any questions, I could hardly look at her. I simply gathered my personal effects and left the office. I went home, to my apartment, in shock and disbelief. But, really, deep down inside, I knew that it was coming.
I told Kelly what had happened. She immediately tried to convince me that we were going to be homeless. Instead of listening to her, I decided to call our church and tell them what had happened. We were put in touch with an attorney, who, upon learning that I had never had a contract with my employer, told me that we did not have to move out right away, that in fact we had sixty days, and that she would take care of everything for me, which she did. This bought us time. I wanted to find a job, we needed to find another place to live, there was so much confusion. I applied for unemployment, which I was eventually awarded. I was having a very hard time wrapping my head around everything. My thought process was at a stand still. I let Kelly take over, which was a mistake. She convinced me to use meth with her, which was my very last time. It was not hers. We spent many frantic days and nights packing, crying, arguing, confused.
She searched for a room for us, and found one in East San Jose. I had found a few options, but they were not good enough for her. She insisted on going to view the room she had found, which I agreed to. She loved it, said it was perfect, and it was decided that we were going to move there in mid-January 2012. We gave the landlady $1000.00 for the rent and deposit, and started to prepare ourselves for the move. We packed the apartment together, barely talking to each other. As the days progressed, I began descending into a very deep and dark depression. I couldn't think, I could hardly react. What I thought would be another chance in life for me had been crushed. Still, I was trying to hope for the best.
We moved into the room on January 14th. The house was a mansion. When had first viewed the room and house, we thought that the owner lived there with her husband and children. We didn't even notice the lack of a living room. We discovered during our first week there that it was a 'flop house'. People started coming out of the cracks and introducing themselves. Apparently, the landlady, Emma, had renovated the house, renting to a total of seventeen people, ten dogs and two cats. One young lady lived in what was once the laundry room, with her four dogs. To add further to the distress of this discovery, one of the roommates emailed us a document. It was a foreclosure, stating that the house had been sold to Bank of America in November 2011! We had been defrauded!
That was on a Sunday. The next day, I phoned the number on the document and spoke with the attorney who was representing Bank of America. He told me that all of us were considered trespassers, that we were subject to immediate eviction, and that they could sue us for damages. Oh my God! Out of the frying pan and into the fire! I thought and thought. Whatever could we do? I went on the internet and found an agency that helped with these cases. We drove to downtown San Jose, went into the office, and submitted our applications for legal aid. As it turned out, we were granted legal representation by the senior attorney on the staff.
Of course, that was not the end of it. We changed the locks on the front door to keep Emma out of the house. But, she came by the next day with a locksmith, had the lock drilled out, and removed the refrigerator, poured bleach on all of our food, dumped cement down the toilets, showers, and drains. We asked for police assistance, but they let her go. They didn't believe what we were telling them. Could it get any worse? Indeed it did.
Kelly began drinking with other roommates. Not only drinking, but snorting cocaine. She had her former Meth dealer come down as often as possible from where he lived, and she used meth with him. She would stay away from our room for nights on end, only coming back to the room to detox from the alcohol and drugs. We fought. She fought with other roommates, was verbally abusive, and often very close to being physically abusive. It was 'One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest' multiplied by 'Lord of the Flies'! The police were called on her over sixteen times, and one of the roommates filed a restraining order against her as a result of the threats she had made. One night she tried to enter the room with her drunken buddies, and I smacked her in the face. She overpowered me, and drove me into the wall, subduing me. There was no longer a boundary for me. I was angry! It finally came to the point that I packed a few bags and left everything else behind, including our cat. I stayed gone for a week, then foolishly allowed myself to be convinced by Kelly to come back, that she would behave, and would avoid the drugs and alcohol. That was a lie.
It only took two weeks for me to have to leave again. I had endured all that I could. I had become a hardhearted person. I was verbally abusive. I was depressed. I left, with the intention of not even going back for the few possessions I still had. Not even the cat. But that was not to be the case. A few days passed, I discovered that she had come into town and taken my car. I called her. She did not answer, instead texting me that she would return it when she was finished with what she had to do. Her cousin was giving her a car, and she needed to transfer the title and get it insured. It took all day. She called my daughters house, and told her that she was downstairs with the keys to my car. My daughter went down to get them. Kelly begged her to talk me into meeting with her. Against my better judgment, I went down.
She was crying, asking why I had left her in such a mess. She had told my daughter that she had purchased a gun, and that when she finished talking to me, she was going to commit suicide. I asked Kelly if that was true, and she nodded her head. I looked at my daughter, and she called the police. They came, and once again, Kelly was placed in a 5150 for suicide prevention and observation. She had the hospital call me, asking me to come down to visit with her. I decided to talk with her on the phone, and she was able to convince me, through pleading, to do so. I went the next day. On medication, Kelly was calm and logical, able to rationalize, think things through. I hugged her and told her that I loved her, that I always would, but that I would probably not return. She clung to me, begging me, telling me that she had no one else to turn to or talk to, until I promised her that I would come back in a few days.
Her birthday was coming up. April 7th. I went to the store and found two cards that spoke to my heart, and most certainly would speak to hers. They communicated what I truly felt for Kelly. Love. At one time unconditional. I went to visit her on her birthday. As I was signing in for the visit, I noticed that the last signature, Lisa Jimenez, was that of a woman she had spent many a night with at the foreclosed house, drinking and using drugs. I was infuriated. I went in and waited for Kelly. When she came out, I stood up and handed her the cards, telling her that I was finished with her. She hugged me, holding me very tightly. I could not move and had to motion for help from one of the nurses. Kelly was asked to move away from me. She told me that she was being discharged, and had no place to go. I said 'That's too bad. Why don't you phone L.J.? I'm sure that she would be more than happy to come and pick you up'. With that I left. Angry. Disappointed. Hurt.
I got in my car and drove away. I didn't get far before turning around. I could not just leave Kelly stranded, or hand her over to people who did not really care for her. I picked her up, and drove her to where she had left her cousins car. What a mistake. But didn't I already state that I have made many mistakes? I drove to my daughters house. As I was walking down the sidewalk to the gate, Kelly came racing up behind me crying. Her cousin had taken the car. She had no place to go. She begged me for help. Then, she got down on her knees and pleaded with me to marry her. Damn my heart! I looked at her for a long time, then made one of the worst decisions I have ever made, I said 'Yes'.
She couldn't go back to the foreclosed house because of the restraining order, so we ended up renting a cheap motel room, at the rate of $800.00 for two weeks. We were running out of money and options. We could not find a place to live, I couldn't find employment, my children refused to help me because I was with Kelly. So, we decided to move. To Arizona. At Kelly's insistence. The land of my birth, and the last place on earth that I wanted to live. Reluctantly, I spent most of the rest of what money I had on the move. Only to discover that we were moving into yet another horrid situation, which I won't go into detail about right now, only to say that Kelly once again turned it into a nightmare, and because the man we rented from wanted her out, and knew we were a couple, filed restraining orders against both of us, and had us removed on the night of July 12th by the police.
Someone was watching over me though. My younger brothers live in Phoenix, and opened their doors to us. Though they do not agree with my choice of sexuality, they love me and overlook it. They tried to accept Kelly, but she could not accept them. Week after week, she stayed in a slump, depressed over anything and everything. She claimed that I was ignoring her, when time after time I attempted to engage with her. I held her at night, rubbed her back, talked to her, loved her. But her desperation to move out of their house was her undoing. She interfered with my decision to pay my brothers a certain amount of money in order for us to stay there. That was the straw that broke the camels back. That was the deciding factor in ending my relationship with her. I closed both of the bank accounts, as I had added her on to them, but was afraid that she would take the money, which belonged to me. I withdrew five hundred dollars. I returned to the house.
Going into the bedroom, I looked at her. I asked her for my necklace, half of a Mizpah. She said, 'You can't break up with me', and I told her, I just did. I am finished. Done. Forever. I took off the engagement ring she had given me. Again I asked her for the necklace. When she refused, I walked toward her. I was going to yank it off of her neck. She yelled out 'Don't make me get physical!', which was a grave mistake. One of my brothers had been listening. He came into the room. He told her, 'Pack your things, you're out of here'. A light came on in Kellys eyes, one of realization, recognition that it was indeed over. I asked her for the key to my car, and she started crying. She took it off of her keyring, and handed it to me. My brother said, 'You have three hours to find a place to go. Get your things ready'. Now to some that may seem cold hearted, but you would need to see the photos of the abuse I endured to understand. When she said 'don't make me get physical', it was taken literally to mean that she would hurt me.
Kelly has returned to California. She spent the last two and a half weeks with family members in Southern Arizona. They got to see Kelly for what she is, a confused, depressed, and angry young woman.
Folks, I still love Kelly. I will always have a place for her in my heart. Even though we will probably never see one another again in this life, I know I will see her on the other side. May she be richly blessed, may she make the right decisions in her life, and may she find the peace that she deserves.