Hyperventilated

Throughout this whole entire experience...when was it that I felt the most without control...the most in need...the most weak?

It was sometime in 2008 - almost a decade into the whole experience. After years and years of this, I reached a point where in my eyes there was no man better than him. I was madly in 'love'...truly, madly, deeply. By 2008 though, I had made the decision to leave - to move countries to get away and learn how to stand on my own two feet. I wasn't strong enough to carry through and I broke down many times. 'Here is a man you love, why are you moving away from him?' I'd question myself. And even as I knew the whole thing wasn't right, there were times that I wanted it more than anything. Other times I wanted to leave more than anything. On this particular day, I was weak because I felt I lost my grip on him. I felt he stopped loving me. I felt he stopped missing me...stopped needing me. It killed me.

I was at work and he had traveled to someplace in East Africa to visit family. We were together like before at that time, just long distance...settling with long phone conversations and web-caming for hours on msn. When he traveled...he seemed like he forgot me. I would send message after message and he would not reply...I would wait for him online and he would not show up...I would check my inbox for any word from him and get nothing. Then I called him...I was missing him all too much...I was going crazy and could not contain my feelings. And, I was scared. I was worried that something was wrong with him. I was worried he might have been in trouble...maybe fallen sick...something wrong.

I went to a senior at work and made a desperate plea to allow me to use the international line because I had to make an extremely important phone call. She saw the desperation in my eyes and offered me her cell phone...she couldn't break the rule by letting me call from the work line. I tried...it didn't work. I tried again...it didn't work. There was a meeting I had to attend in 10 minutes and I knew I wouldn't be able to sit there for 2 hours if I didn't hear his damn voice.

Finally...I dialed...and he answered. "Jaan, where have you been...I've been trying to contact you. Are you okay where are you?"...these are the words I thought I would say when I finally heard his voice. I was expecting to hear a somber voice...maybe too quiet to hear because he was not well. I got the opposite.

As soon as he said his first hello, I knew he was okay. Everything was fine on his end...in fact he was having a blast. His voice was lively and he was having a great time...everything was okay. A roller coaster of emotions in a split second took me over. The first were tears of relief that he was okay...I felt my heart finally stop clenching. Then sadness and hurt...he was fine and I was suffering and he didn't even seem to care. My hear felt slapped and bruised. And also shock. How can a man change so much?...how can he just forget that we've been in touch everyday for so long and now all of a sudden he forgets. He called me his wife. What was happening now?

"Why haven't you contacted me I was so worried!" I said in tears. His reply made me hyperventilate..."I can't talk right now...I'll call you back. Everything is fine. Don't worry okay".

What had changed? Why was he acting like he didn't care for me anymore? Where did this change come from. I was shaking and crying and I couldn't breathe properly. I felt utterly weak. I called my friend who was out of the office at a client. I was sobbing uncontrollably. "What's wrong - what's wrong?" she asked. "He doesn't care, he doesn't care..." I cried. Her silence while I wept gave me strength. She was listening and she knew my pain. That's all I needed.

Her advise was that I go for a walk and skip the meeting. I wouldn't allow that. He can't be having a good time vacationing with his family while I was in a state of disarray. I locked myself in the washroom...wiped off my smudged mascara and prepared myself to sit through the meeting. "I got some sand in my eyes..." - that was my excuse for the redness.

While I sit here recounting this story, I am remembering the many different times that I should have seen that I wasn't much of anything to him but someone to satisfy his needs. He made me feel so important, but there were so many incidents. The time he raised his voice at me when I told him I didn't want to play that hide and seek game in the dark - we were all kids and he would make me and him partner up so he could touch me while his children tried to find us. The times he told me he needs me and how because he loves me he can't sleep with his wife...yet by chance one day his phone had called mine and on my voice-mail was a few minutes of me hearing him moan and groan as he made love to his wife. I told him about it...made him listen to it in fact (which he did for a few seconds). He was saddened and said he had to make love to her for her... I didn't mind. She was his wife..but he lied to me. Up till today I wonder if that phone call was a mistake or whether he intended me to hear the sounds of him making love. The times he would force me to be intimate with him when I was tired...or when my body was sensitive and it was more painful for me than anything...no pleasure. All he wanted was his fix. And I never saw it as that - I seriously thought he needed me. And that fix came easy from me I guess...there was one time where me made me feel so possessive over him as he told me about this young, beautiful woman who had crushed on him. For months he would tell me about how she would show up at his work or gym...and there was a time where I even exchanged emails with her telling her to leave my man alone. "I went out with her for coffee to see if I could do it..."..he said..."and I couldn't..that is how I know how much I love you" he said to me. Lies, all lies.

Yet...there I was. Hyperventilating because here was a man I loved and he was showing me no care.

Why do we allow ourselves to be abused to this extent in the name of love? The man violated my body. We never penetrated, but he tried to make use of every chance he had to ejaculate. Three, four, even five times a day if he had the chance. And sometimes I didn't have to do anything. He would do what he needed to as I lay down like a fish thinking of my next biology assignment. Sometimes I would be so fed up I'd be so aggressive and do things 'animalistically'. That wasn't enjoyment (contrary to what he believed)...it was desperation. I feel like I need to shower just remembering how much happened. Disgusting.

I'm sorry. I'm being graphic today. A very dear friend of mine is facing a situation, and I feel her pain. Men and love can be a dangerous mix...and its sad when its those with the most beautiful hearts that have to face the brunt of the abuse.