Betrayed by Insanity

 Prologue

I am 53 years old, and I will be 54 in November.  I am the smartest, most attractive man that exists. I took a class in psychology, but I was the best mind in the class, my professor said so, and therefore I am capable of analyzing a person as well as any Psychologist. I also took Political Science and some beginning classes in law. In both cases, I mastered the classes quickly and stood out as the best in my class. Technically speaking, I am a Lawyer, a Psychologist, and the best political mind the world has seen. I could have saved several people who were sent to prison, and when I told my professors how I would have run the defense, they wanted to know how in the world I knew that. I am a genius and everybody loves me. I have never had to look for a job, the offers come rolling in for me.  

Somehow though, I feel empty inside, powerless, and full of shame.  Those are negative emotions and make me a weak person. I am not weak, and I can’t let those feelings of emptiness and shame shape my thinking. I deserve the best because I am the best. 

Jana tells me I’m a narcissist, and I have to laugh out loud. Who does she think she is talking to? I have all that psychological knowledge, and she dares to call me a narcissist. I know what that is and she has no right to call me that, just because I always put myself first. That’s what everybody should do, put themselves first because nobody else will. 

___________________________________________

I pulled into a parking space close to the stairs at the condo, pulled out my phone, and called Nate to let him know I was back with the groceries. The heavy front door of my old car groaned when I pushed it open and banged hard when I shut it.  There was no time to have a cigarette, Nate would be down in a minute and hated the smell of tobacco. 

“That was quick,” I offered as he approached the car.

There was no answer, but that was happening more and more lately. He said he heard everything I said, but when he didn’t answer me and kept scrolling on his phone, I had my doubts.

 His skin didn’t have a unique smell like most people’s skin. I sniffed the air as he stood next to me, wondering why he didn’t have his smell.

“What are you doing? Do you have a cold?”

“No, I  was just smelling the air to see if I could smell the flowers.”

He hoisted ten bags from the car and trotted off up the stairs. I always helped, even though it didn’t seem fair since I did the grocery shopping. I grabbed the toilet paper and the paper towels because they were big items but didn’t weigh much. 

It only took a few minutes to take all the groceries upstairs, but then I had to put it all away.  I sighed, watching him lie on the sofa, scrolling his phone again and ignoring me. 

I put the food away, making as much noise as possible. He laughed at his cell phone, talked to himself a little, and then went into his music room and began playing one of his guitars.  He closed the door behind him rather loudly. What a guy I thought. What was I thinking when I moved in with him?  He seemed so nice when we used to text each other for hours every night.  He told me how much he wanted to hold me at night and wake up to me in the morning.  This was not the same guy I was talking to then, because if it was I wouldn’t be standing here feeling miserable. 

I decided to finish the laundry and start dinner.  When dinner was ready I went to his door and heard no music, so I knocked. The door opened, and he stared down at me, “What Jana?!”

“Dinner is ready, I just thought you might want to come out and eat.”

“I am busy. I’ll be out when I feel like it.”

He slammed the door in my face, and I wanted to kick it in and slap the crap right out of him for being so rude and unfeeling. I got my dinner, sat down in the living room, and turned on the TV. A few minutes later I heard his cell phone ring, and he walked out the front door without saying anything. About five minutes later he came back in, stomped into the bedroom, and shut the door. I followed him and asked him if he had seen my phone, which I hadn’t been able to find. He sat up and told me to get the Hell out of there and leave him the Hell alone.  I grabbed my pajamas and pillow and went back into the living room. 

My feelings were hurt, and it was already getting dark so I didn’t want to drive anywhere. I went to the parking lot and sat in my car, texting my friend Beth and pouring out all my problems. Beth and I were roommates before I moved in with Nate, so she knew the history.  We must have texted for hours, and by the time I went back upstairs, I was ready to stand my ground. I hugged my dog and put my pajamas on, and then I grabbed my pillow and went back into the bedroom. He had no right to tell me to get out of the room I slept in.  He was a total jerk and I needed a plan to get out of this mess.

The days were all the same. He went to work and I cleaned the house and did the laundry. It was my birthday, and my birthday makes me happy.  I didn’t get anything out for dinner because I was sure he would take me out to eat. I was in a great mood and hurried through the daily grind and then texted him. A chill went through me when I got his answer. It was short and rude, and I called him on it.  His reply was worse, telling me not to bother him at work with my crap, that he didn’t need it. I recoiled, and now I was angry too. I sent him another text, and he sent me another one, worse than the last one. By now I was crying, and his final blow was to tell me he wasn’t coming home because he didn’t need my crap.  I hoped he would calm down and he would still take me out for dinner.  My heart was pounding and my eyes were swollen from crying. I remembered how he was when I first moved in, how he would sit and talk to me when he got home, and he always told me I looked nice, or that he loved my eyes. That rapidly changed and now he would come home and stand in front of the kitchen counter and start lecturing about politics. He talked loudly and over me when I tried to say something, or he would interrupt me mid-sentence, as though what I had to say was unimportant. I started saying nothing because there was no point. He wasn’t listening and the more he talked the more agitated he would get.  As soon as we ate he would get his phone and start scrolling again.

It was almost six when he came through the front door. I was in the kitchen and he didn’t say anything to me, not happy birthday or anything.  My heart was pounding again, and I was in a cold sweat, realizing he wasn’t taking me to dinner or making dinner for me. I grabbed some instant pasta salad from the cupboard and began making that while I slammed pots and dishes to let him know I was still upset, but he was busy scrolling on his phone.  After we finished, he went into his music room and shut the door, and that was the end of my birthday hopes.  He got me nothing, not even a card. I was feeling a deep hole inside myself that nothing could touch.

A few nights later he was sitting on the balcony and I had been texting my sister but went outside to join him. I was laughing because my sister was so paranoid about our relationship that she kept comparing it to episodes of Dateline.  As soon as I said that he became enraged, and interpreted it as a personal attack on his character. He ranted at me for listening to my sister, and that must be how I felt too, and in that case, he was done, he was over it.  The bedroom door slammed hard and I knew he was in bed for the night. At least I thought he was, but when I went into the bedroom he was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“What are you doing in here?”

“I came in to get my pajamas so I could take a bath and then come to bed.”

“I told you! I’m done, any love I felt for you is gone after what you said, just leave me the Hell alone.”

This was not working, and I was so miserable.  I had spent my extra money after my bills to buy food, and I didn’t have enough gas to get back to Arizona where Beth was still living.  She didn’t have enough money to send me gas money so I couldn’t ask her for help.  I would be paid again in a week, so I would have to manage for a week and then leave, which meant leaving some of my furniture and kitchenware, but it would be worth it to be out of this situation.  I felt desperate and empty at the same time, and worried that he would figure out my plan and get violent with me, although he usually just ranted and didn’t become physical, but who knows when that could happen?

The week went by quickly and when he left for work I would get up and start packing the things I could take.  I continued to make dinner and keep quiet during the nightly rant about politics and how he wanted to shoot those stupid people in the face because they had made this country a mess and deserved it. He was getting a gun because all of this would explode soon and he wanted to start shooting people.  His speech was getting more violent by the day and it scared me. When he wasn’t talking about who needed to be shot in the face, he was talking about his past fistfights and how he had demolished the other person. What a ray of sunshine.

My heart raced and my body was shaking the morning I left. I pretended to be asleep until I heard the door close behind him, and then I waited another fifteen minutes to make sure he didn’t come back.  He was too wrapped up in himself to notice I was not the same caring person lately.  I got up quickly, dressed, went to the parking lot, and drove into the garage.  I decided not to leave a note, he wouldn’t care, and I didn’t want him to know where I was going. Negative thoughts filled my brain, like the way he ignored me.  He was ashamed to be seen with me and never introduced me to his friends like he promised.  I’m not sure why he wanted me to move in. 

Even though I knew I was doing the right thing, it stung.  Tears began rolling down my face, thinking about how much I cared for him, and how hard I had tried to please him. My self-confidence was completely gone.  I felt like the most useless piece of garbage around and I knew it was coming from how he treated me.  I couldn’t understand how he could go from being nice and telling me how much he loved being around me, to telling me to get out a few hours later. He always told me to get out, but when I started packing my things he would recoil and get me to stay. He didn’t like walking the dog with me, and if I insisted on going along on a walk, he would stay as far ahead of me as he could.  We never went anywhere or did anything together, he didn’t hold my hand and stayed as far on his side of the bed as he could at night. It all added up to me feeling ugly, stupid, and incapable of pleasing him. I cried for hours while driving and trying to look normal when I stopped for gas. I had to leave, had to do this because he would never be capable of loving me.

___________________________________________

She left me, after everything I had done for her. She got to live in my condo, I didn’t ask her to work, and I did everything for her.  It doesn’t matter, I can replace her any time I want, and with someone much better than her, worthy of me. She didn’t know what she had and was the big loser, not me. I liked being here without her; she was always bothering me, and I didn’t love her and she didn’t love me. This is all her fault, she is the one who made the relationship fail, not me.

.