Finding My Limits VII

The irritation was only strengthened once my flight was delayed for an hour.  I have no idea why I cannot depart on time even once and worse yet is that I can never seem to get constant Wifi in the LaGuardia airport...so here I sit fuming and waiting to take off and unable to fight with Mike.

I walked back up the corridor to grab a coffee and anything I could find that was gluten free, delicious and not a piece of fruit or vegetables.  I was too pissed off to eat healthy; I wanted some comfort food.  My options were terribly limited so I grabbed corn chips and found a corner in the airport where I could play Candy Crush and forget that last twenty four hours of my life...

Finding My Limits VI

This guy has some serious nerve! Now the only reason I wanted to go to Long Island was to punch him in the throat but I hailed a cab instead and headed straight to LaGuardia.  I was furious, throwing my bag in the trunk and trying my best not to snap at the driver.  I sat in the back seat and reread his email a few times hoping something would click and clear the anger from my thoughts to reply in a productive manner but each time I read his message my blood boiled and I was nearly frothing at the mouth.

I started a sentence at least half a dozen times before I settled on just a few and as much as I wanted those words to be "Fuck you"...they were not.  I have told Mike off more than one time in the past and he never got the message or maybe he never took me seriously so this time I went out of my way to be cutting with my words.

              Dear Mike,

              I no longer wish to be invited to your pity parties.  I find it sad and disgusting as you             wallow in your hurt and expect me to constantly give in to your victim mentality.  I owe you nothing     and when I tried to be a friend you chose to be a jerk.  The next time you send me a picture of a gun I am calling the police.

                Nat

I looked up to discover I was at the airport, I pressed send and made my way into the Westjet counter still vibrating with anger and sadness...

Finding My Limits V

I was standing in Penn Station debating whether I should store my luggage, change my flight and grab a train to Long Island or take the cab to LaGuardia with hope he didn't do anything desperate. I pulled my luggage a couple of blocks and ducked into a Starbucks for a coffee and moment to regroup my thoughts and anxieties...but mostly it gave me Wifi to check my email to see if he finally got back to me.

I held my breath when I seen his email pop up. I felt awful when my first thought was that he was alive and I could finally put the lid back on Pandora's box if I just never say another word and walked away free and clear...but I care for this man deeply.  I'm not in love with Mike, but I do care about him and feel bonded through our darkness.  I opened the email expecting a few words explaining how he drank too much and passed out but that wasn't the case...he was angry and mean...this wasn't over...

Finding My Limits IV

I was stuck in traffic for over an hour trying to get Cleo to her kennel and hoping I would be back in time to catch my flight.  I still haven't slept and knew I wouldn't until I was in my own bed and even then I wasn't entirely convinced.  It had only been a few hours since my last email to Mike but I haven't heard a word and I even went to the extent of calling him and leaving voice mail messages.  I'm not ready for this type of support group and although I work closely with those suffering from addiction I don't really know Mike...I only see what he shows me and I have no idea if this is a cry for help and if it is I don't know the path to direct him to.

I pulled up to the giant warehouse of kennels and doggie daycare for Cleopatra and cried all over her pretty face wishing I didn't have to leave her and knowing she suffered from separation anxiety.  I watched her walk into her daycare class before I made my exit and I felt better knowing she was playing and not just watching me have to abandon her there.

Forty-five minutes later I was back in the apartment and finished packing my things.  It was time to go and nothing felt resolved...helplessness is an awful feeling as I am sure he is aware.

Finding My Limits III

I sat on the edge of the bed petting Cleopatra and holding my phone in my hand.  If I never heard from him again I would have no idea what happened nor would I have the comfort of closure.  I don't think he would hurt himself but then again I have no idea how much alcohol one needs to follow through with their darknesses wishes. I know he wants to live and have the picturesque family but just can't seem to get his shit together to have it or even encourage it into his life.  The emails stopped over an hour ago and I have sent one every few minutes hoping for any contact.  I have to drive Cleo to the kennel in a few hours and then make my way to the airport...could I really leave not knowing anything more?  I knew I would get on the plane if it was at the gate and ready to go. I can't play his game because I get pulled in far beyond my abilities...if I could just get him to go to a therapist then at least he would be on the right path...but how?  How do I get him to agree to going to a therapist?  I laid down beside Cleo and tried to relax; hoping for my phone to buzz and wishing I didn't care so much.

Finding My Limits II

I lost track of time flipping through my pictures and making notes on loose papers in my purse for my first chapter.  When my third beer arrived I decided to turn on my data for the internet since Mike will only use massage apps to talk with me.  My email had seven new messages so I started to open them. I knew he was at home drunk as soon as I opened the first one, it was a link to a youtube video for some song he was relating to...this was exactly his style...gets drunk then starts to find pity songs that he feels describes his life.  I opened four emails all pretty much the same with different links to songs and I was feeling pissed off that I was stupid enough to agree to meet him.  The last three emails made my stomach turn with anger and sadness; the first was a picture of bullets on his bed, then a rifle sitting beside them and finally one with him holding the gun.  What the fuck did he expect me to do?  He was on Long Island and I was in Midtown hours from heading back to Canada.  I hated him for doing this to me, I didn't even know his address anymore and he knew I couldn't go to see him.  It felt like he was looking for some company for his misery, he loved to torture me for some reason...perhaps he was testing my friendship...I didn't like the constant battle of proving myself to him.  I asked for the bill and finished my beer...his super power is making me feel as helpless as possible.  I walked out into the streets, took a deep breath and ran to the ally to throw up my Heineken...

Finding My Limits I

I was sitting in Carmine's in Times Square at a table for two that Mike reserved.  I wondered if he picked Carmine's because it was where we had our first date and if that's the case what was he expecting other than dinner.  This new relationship he is in seems just as toxic as the rest of his life and I worry, but stay clear.  I have leaned to keep him at arms length knowing that I'm easily drawn into his darkness and chaos.  He knows I won't feed him lies or garbage he wants to hear, but he also knows that I'll help him work it out when he is ready to do the work.  I remember when Dan said to me, "You can always talk to me but one day you might want to talk to someone who can give you insight and direction".  That's how I was feeling with Mike but with less of a tolerance than Dan.  I ordered a drink and reviewed the menu while I waited for my late dinner date.