To Have Loved And Lost - Living With Schizophrenia

September 21, 2007

To Have Loved And Lost

...Is better then to have never loved at all.

I've fallen in love several times. Even though my love is always unrequited (so far), I've learned from each experience.

In high school, I was in love with two of the boys in my class, Nathan K. and Mike K. Nathan was something of a geek. He was smart, but quiet. I never told him that I had a crush on him. He'd probably be surprised if he knew. I didn't know that much about him, and have no idea where he is now. Mike was something of a class clown. He was voted "worst dressed" along with me at the end of senior year. He was one of the few popular boys who did not make fun of me. He'd probably be surprised if he knew I'd had a crush on him too.

After high school, I worked at an Easter Seals Camp as a counselor. It was there I met Mike S.. He was also a counselor. He was a good looking man, rippling with muscles, and eyes the same color as mine. I instantly fell in love with him. We partied together a few times when the campers weren't at the camp. I found out later that he was quite the piano player. Even though we were underage, we still drank quantities of beer. He finally confessed to me that he was gay. After drinking quite a few, I cornered him in the bathroom and ripped my shirt off. I had to test the waters. He politely turned me down and began distancing himself from me. I did see him again years later, and he had moved in with a blonde man. Perhaps spitefully, I told him to "grow up." I haven't seen him since.

I joined the Navy, and met my ex-husband, Donald N. who I used to love. He was artistic, imaginative, creative and also a writer. He seemed to know something about real magic, and I wanted to learn from him. He ran D&D games. I joined his game and showed him my poetry. We went on one date. After that he pushed sex on me. He said he loved me. I figured, at the time, he was only a man and couldn't help himself. I was only eighteen and he was 22. So, I figured I'd take the good with the bad. He sure wasn't much to look at. He was pretty fat and had an ugly baby-face. I put up with his jealousy, threats, delusional ideation about God and magic, and sexual abuse for a little over three years. We had a baby girl, that we placed for adoption. It was my idea. I strongly suggested he go along with the idea. I don't think he trusted himself with a baby girl, or wanted the responsibility, so he went along with the adoption. I later learned he was a liar, and a thief. I also ended up in the hospital with some mysterious STD that cleared up, so he was a cheat as well. Eventually, after we got married, and broke up three months after the marriage, I fell out of love with him. It took years for me to come to terms with the abuse I'd suffered, and some education from the local crisis center about sexual abuse, and fall out of love with him. I think I was codependent, because he was a drug addict and I wasn't, at the time.

I met Dan G. near the end of my marriage. He was muscular whereas my ex-husband was fat. He was spiritual, or at least he seemed to be. He knew how to kiss, whereas my ex-husband did not. But, he had a girlfriend. He seemed to be a good friend and listener. Later I learned he was a marijuana addict. He also drank quite a bit. We slept together once and he began playing games with me. He no longer listened to me after that preferring to argue with everything I said. He also seduced me when I was crying over the break-up with my ex-husband. And he cornered me once by the bathrooms in the Bellingham south side Denny's and began feeling me up. It hurt. He was still going out with his girlfriend. I learned to hate him. I figured it was the only cure for being in love with him. Hating him worked, and I fell out of love.

My next love was J.P. Falcon G. He was a full-blooded Blackfoot man. He was the same age as me. He sang like an angel, wrote obscure songs about the Southwest and other women, and played the guitar. I felt for him, because when he was a teenager, one of his best friends was shot right in front of him. The boy who was shot was also Native American and an activist. I also felt for him because he'd been victimized by a particualarily nasty hazing in college. I knew him as a friend for seven years before I got tired of waiting. I did a portrait of him and told him he could have it if he took me home with him one July evening in 1997. He had the face and voice of an angel, but he was really more like the devil. I had seen him push down his girlfriend once, but I figured sleeping with him one time wouldn't hurt anything. On the way to his friend's house, where we spent the night, he put his hands on me and it hurt. That night he got as drunk as a skunk, took me to bed, and immediately tried for anal sex with me. I let him do that, even though it wasn't very much fun. That sexual experience cured me of being in love with him. I knew he was abusive after that.

My next love was Aaron, aka Freedom. He too was in a relationship. He had long blonde dreadlocks, and sang about love and Spirit. We never slept together. I tried getting to know him as a friend. But I got disgusted with people setting up altars to him and him putting up with it. He liked marijuana a lot. (By this time, I was rather fond of marijuana myself.) I also got disgusted with the way he treated his ex-girlfriend who was from Hawaii. He dumped her because she had an abortion, and she no longer was going to pay for his living expenses. I followed him down to California and went to a few of his shows. His music had deteriorated, as it often does when drugs are involved. My mental illness was active and I must've said some bizarre things to him, because he told me to stay away from him. So I did. I don't need any judgmental deceivers in my life anyway.

My next and last great love was Joshua M. I met him in drug treatment. He was recovering from a cocaine addiction. He was one of the smartest paople I've ever met. He had an unbeaten track record at Scrabble, and was a whiz at chess. He was a good friend up until we slept together. After that, he began avoiding me and hiding in his room all the time. He was bipolar and it was probably depression. He looked the part of a nerd, but like all my ex loves was a bad boy. At least he wasn't a fatso. I got mad about him avoiding me, and then him hanging out exclusively with a notorious racist at the treatment center. He had insisted that he loved me as a friend. We had childhood sexual abuse in common. He had been sexually abused by his older stepbrother for years. I'd finally had enough when he accused me of writing a nasty letter as well as him refusing to hug me the day he left the treatment center. He hung up on me when I called him, and I haven't talked to him since. Maybe I'm not being very understanding, but those are warning signs.

Maybe next time I fall in love it will be mutual. I would like that.

September 21, 2007

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About This Post

This page contains a single entry by Theresa posted on September 21, 2007 10:07 AM.

Sorting out the symptoms of my illnesses.... was the previous post in this blog.

About compassion is the next post in this blog.

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