I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 14

The year of my divorce was the worst year of my life. In March of that year, my favorite cat, Spunky, had to be put down as he’d developed pleurisy. I couldn’t stand to have him lose all his dignity before he died. I’d watched that happen to another pet, so the thought of allowing that to happen to my wonderful kitty was more than I could stand.

In August, my youngest brother, Wayne died of a seizure related to a head injury he’d suffered about 9 years earlier.

I’ll never forget that night. He called me that evening and wanted to come spend the night with Pat and me. I told him it wasn’t possible as I couldn’t leave him alone at the apartment the next day and I didn’t have a way to make sure he got home safely in the morning. Instead I offered to let him spend the weekend after his birthday with me as my husband would be gone hunting with his best friend Scott. Before we got off the phone that night, I told him I was looking forward to seeing him as arranged and that I loved him. That was the last time I ever spoke to him.

Pat and I went to bed around 9 p.m., as we both had to be up early for work. Around 10 the phone beside our bed started clamoring for attention. I was so sound asleep I didn’t realize what the awful noise was. Pat had to reach over me and answer it. When he got off the phone, he told me that it was Don’s wife Donna calling to say Wayne was in the hospital and no one knew if he’d make it. We got up and got dressed. I called my boss and spoke with his wife. I told her what was happening and I didn’t know if I’d make to work the next morning, but I’d call as soon as I knew. On the way to the hospital, I had a feeling this was it for my younger, taller brother. I told the Lord that I didn’t want Wayne to die, but if it were his time, I would let go. He was already dead when we arrived at the hospital. I learned later that he’d actually died before reaching the hospital.

In September, my sister-in-law gave birth to a beautiful little boy. It was extremely difficult to watch her have a baby when I wanted one so badly and my husband kept saying “no, we can’t afford to have children.” Approximately two weeks after the birth of my nephew, my husband and I split up. I think I knew then my marriage was over, even if not legally.

I want to give Pat credit for a couple of things here. First, I had a birthday about a month after our divorce was final. He came to my work that day just to give me a birthday present. He’s even e-mailed me birthday wishes since then, even though I never think about his birthday. His birthday came and went while our divorce was being finalized and I didn’t even think to call him. Secondly, when I talked to him several months later regarding the video collection we had, he told me it wasn’t important to him. He’d already replaced the ones he wanted. He also didn’t seem surprised my mother was the real reason I took some of the videos I did.

In the months following our divorce, I went through a depression so deep, it’s a miracle I didn’t commit suicide because I certainly gave it some serious thought. One of the biggest reasons I didn’t was my nephew. I didn’t want his parents to have to tell him that his aunt had committed such a horrible act. There was also the fact that I didn’t want to cause anyone else in my family any grief over me in such a situation.

Last, but far from least in its own way was the realization that if I killed myself, I would never have children. That it was and is a permanent solution to temporary problems. What I did do was drag myself to and from work and sleep a lot. I’d get home at 3:00 p.m. or so, and be so tired I didn’t want to eat. I’d go sit down in the recliner for “just a few minutes” and wake up several hours later, in time to go to bed. Then I’d sleep the whole night through.

I worked at a laundry mat/dry cleaner at the time and tried to keep my personal problems from showing, but I know they did. Especially when a year or so after the divorce, a woman looked at me and said, “You’re doing better.”

“What do you mean,” I asked. She replied that it was if she had watched me walk through a dark valley and now I was coming out of it. I was really surprised. I thought I’d hidden my depression better than that.

I realize now, that at some level, I knew before we married that he wasn’t the right man for me. However, there were two problems with breaking up with Pat before the wedding. One was that by the time I realized how I felt, I thought it was too late. We had set a date and told our families and friends that we were getting married. Not to mention the planning I’d done and the money I’d spent getting ready.

The second problem with calling off the wedding was my own emotional needs. I wanted and needed a husband so much, I was willing to do virtually anything to be married, even marry the wrong man.