That’s The Way Love Is…

“Two people make their vow to be together, and live and love each other forever, they promise to love for a lifetime, funny thing… then they change their mind….” — Ten City, That’s The Way Love Is

These are the lyrics that inspired me today. Not just to honestly open up and write to a dear friend, but to also get to work on the kaleidoscope of activity that came off the back of the song popping into my head this morning.

Honesty is the best policy…. always

I got married to a guy who I was with from the age of 17, we lived together for 9 years. Firstly at his parents, then eventually into our own place. I didn’t even think about marriage, and nor did he, but society and peer pressure dictated that this is what you do. We were quite happy living together, we both had good jobs and no debt apart from the mortgage on the house we lived in. There was always alcohol but that’s what we do at the weekend here, it’s part of the culture.

He proposed to me when we were on holiday in Magaluf, we were drinking a lot and on holiday with friends. I agreed because it was the thing we are supposed to do. We got married in St Lucia. After we got married things changed, he changed. I was working in my uncle’s club behind the bar on weekends, he had total free reign to do as he pleased, there was a nightclub in the other part of the building that I was working in. I had total trust that he wouldn’t cheat on me, but he didn’t the other way. He constantly accused me of sleeping with someone else, which I wasn’t. At the time, I was working full time in my day job and weekends in the club. It was a snooker hall and family club by the way just to put things into context.

My Nan and Grandad were landlord and landlady at a small village pub when I was a kid, and families would gather there, all the parents in the pub but kids were not allowed, so would all assemble in the pub garden. There were two brothers that were regularly there, called Ryan and Nigel. My sister and I became friends with them both. So you can imagine my joy when one if them turned up at the club I was working at after not seeing him for about 10 years! It was like seeing an old family member as I am sure you can appreciate.

I bounded across the room and gave him the biggest hug! So happy to see him. Within a few seconds of doing this my ex husband had him by the throat against the wall. As you can imagine this pissed me off, I lost my shit. We ended up arguing, fighting, and I think it was at that point the rose tinted glasses of my marriage got shattered.

Self-medication and coping mechanisms

We started smoking weed, I left my job at the club, I gave up smoking and all this time we were trying to have a child which never happened. Every month I didn’t fall pregnant there was always a blow out of self medication resulting in more arguments, fighting, like proper fighting, and days of silent treatment.

He continued to accuse me of cheating on him, became massively controlling over money, I got promoted in my jobs, we had a joint account we paid 50 percent each into to cover all house costs and bills. We both had a reasonable amount left over to buy pretty much anything we wanted. Then one day, the depression kicked in…. I completely shut down. The doctor suggested that I try taking Prozac to help. This was my first antidepressant meds.

At first, they really did help, I got back into a more positive state of mind. This was when I stepped up in my 8 ball participation seriously. I played in 3 local town league teams and for Wiltshire county.

As you know, alcohol and drugs are not a good combination, so when I started drinking again this is where my problems began. My ex accused me of sleeping with someone in the pool team. Which I didn’t, I was more interested in my performance and success in the game. Don’t get me wrong, there was always banter, that’s who I am, but I was always faithful.

When I was promoted to a management role in my job the doctor and I decided that we could now look at stopping the meds. The arguments and literal fist fights when we were drinking followed by regular passionate make up sex continued at home. The sex was amazing, but the fights made it less appealing. So I avoided spending more time there.

We had a works night out in my home town, my ex husband came of course, a large number of the management team came along, the recreational drugs and alcohol was involved. My ex husband started a fight and argument on the night out, accusing me of sleeping with one of the managers from work. This was the final straw for me. Not long after I fucked someone drunk because he had accused me so much of doing it, I did! And not just anyone, it was his brother in laws brother. I was totally drunk and high at the time. Meaningless sex, angry at my ex, I didn’t feel anything for this guy.

I spent more time getting self pleasure at home from my toys than sleeping with my husband. My mental health declined again, and I ended up back on the Prozac. We had marriage counselling but the damage was already done. When I look back reflectively on what happened, with the knowledge of CPTSD, my understanding of narcissistic abusive partners, it’s a completely different picture now. And makes sense of what I did strangely.

After that, I went into a spiral of recreational drugs and alcohol to self medicate when the Prozac was stopped, I ended up in another rebound relationship, because I couldn’t cope with being alone.

I got involved in some real seedy shit, multiple partner sex, girl on girl, videoed having sex. Smoking weed to go to sleep, speed to go to work and pills on the weekends to party, followed by all day drinking on Sundays at the pub, and we were taking whatever was confiscated in the club because my ex was a doorman.

We got engaged, got a house, I was totally dis-regulated and disassociated from myself. He was, and still is a player. Years later it all came out from other people what he was doing behind my back, all of which he denied of course.

Millennium new year, I asked him to please not work, because I wanted to go to London to see in the special new year. He agreed, but on the day before he announced that he was working at a club in Bath. This set me off, I was totally angry, so I ended up taking 6 Es, dancing and kissing a girl in the club, all for his, and everyone else’s entertainment. We ended up taking another couple home and had a party. Loads of drugs and alcohol, multiple partner sex, and I had driven us home! I don’t know how! God definitely had his hand on me that day.

I was so high I was convinced that there was a gremlin on the end of my sofa and that Madonna was in my kitchen This quite obviously was when I began to totally lose touch with reality.

Not long after I was home alone, he was working at the club, I needed to speak to him on the phone. He totally ghosted my calls.

A real “I woke up and smelled the coffee” or that ding you hear when the light bulb moment happens in your brain.

Unsung hero – http://www.notworthysavedbygodsgrace.com

So I went to a couple of stores and got myself 120 paracetamol, a bottle of wine and a bunch of bananas. I had decided that my life was pointless, no matter how hard I tried to just be normal and have a nice life, it just wasn’t going to happen.

It was a funny day, and the most peaceful I had ever felt in my entire life. I calmly lined up the paracetamol, along my beautiful coffee table. I ate a banana to ensure there was something in my stomach to line it, and systematically, one by one, consumed the pills…

I then sat back in the comfy chair and began playing who wants to be a millionaire game on the PlayStation, and continued to drink the wine. Distracting myself and drinking myself into oblivion while nature took its course.

I was falling, uncontrollably, into a very dark and wide chasm. Free-falling, total peace at last.

Then I felt something grab me from behind. You know, like when a kid runs into the road and you grab and yank them back. I woke up face down but pushed myself upright from the bed I was in. Real bolt upright fast, arms locked like in a press-up position. This bed was in Bath Royal United Hospital. This made me very angry because I just wanted to leave. I had written a suicide note to ensure it was clear to everyone that it was not their fault, there was nothing anyone could do to make me want to be here, no amount if money or love would make a difference to the fact that I was done.

Looking back in this now, I am convinced and identify that this is when Jesus stepped in, because not long after I was at my sisters house and she was telling me about why she was a Christian, which I was totally dismissive of and was calling her out on her bullshit for believing it. Then one day, during one of these conversations, she said something which hit me, literally, with fire and awakening. I now understand this as the Holy Spirit baptism of fire. Like Pentecost.

From that point in, I could see the world differently. Everything made sense, I could see and appreciate the beauty of God’s creation. What was totally weird was the bible actually made sense. It was simple to me that it was all about Jesus. From predictions of prophets of his coming, to his teaching when he was here, why he was killed, and where he is now.

A real “I woke up and smelled the coffee” or that ding you hear when the light bulb moment happens in your brain.

I truly believe that Jesus saved my life and for a reason, and I still don’t know what that reason is. I’m not perfect, I don’t think I’m anyone special, I understand how shit life is and badly people treat each other. But on the other hand I also see so much love and beauty in the world. God has revealed things over the years, through various things, people and teaching. Like a fast track crash course in what he was trying to tell us while he was teaching when he was alive and walking the earth.

My love is genuine but so too is my pain. I fucking hate this world and the bullshit that goes on. I have still continued to fuck up myself. Despite what happened.

What I do understand is that I pray to God in Jesus’ name to help me to understand what my assignment is today. I never know what’s coming, who will arrive, who I will be messaging, who I will be speaking to, and what work I need to do. I just trust the process, and do the best version of myself today (and honestly when it’s a shit day, no masks) Aiming to be the best at what I do in whatever is required. I see it that my job title is an apprentice of Jesus and a humble servant.

The only man I trust now is Jesus…