Missing Mark

The call I'd never imagined receiving.  The person on the phone calling, one I would never expect to hear from, which curled the pit of my stomach; what had happened?

The call was to inform me he had killed himself.  My first love.  My only love.  The man I walked away from when my son was about a year and a half because he couldn't get his mental health issues in check; and I would be dammed to expose my son to someone more unstable than me.

We had kept in touch thanks to the power of the internet though not as often as I now wish.  A few occasional emails checking in with each other (however looking back at the emails I never truly said all I had wanted to).  

There was that one phone call I received from him around this time of year three years back; he was panicked, and unstable.  I begged him to go get help, and even though he promised me he would, I know he didn't.  What he wanted was for someone to answer, and I did.  

I had forgotten to tell him my number had changed a year back.  I know it's trivial and pointless to think giving him my new number could have changed his mind...I get that, really, I do.... but god dammit I wish I had remembered to tell him.

Instead I was too wrapped up in me to think of him, and the fucking irony of it all makes my heart weep.  My anger rages through tears that burn my eyes when I think of him.  It's been a little over two months since his life ended, and I still see threads of him in my life constantly.  I've come a long way in those months; with writing as my sole outlet, I couldn't bring myself to sit down and make this entire situation "real" by putting it into words...but it's time.

Maybe I'm making a bigger deal out of his death than I should; he always told me he didn't want to live to be old.  His life outlook was so negative, it was mostly the polar opposite of mine.  I think that's why we were soul mates who happened to become poison when together.  Another irony (which, yes I'm probably using the term "irony" wrong, but he's not here to tell me otherwise).

His death allowed me to see he was actually able to live the years since we physically parted; his friends had kept a close watch on him.  I know he wanted more, but didn't feel he deserved it.  Dammit, I miss him.  I'm beginning to wonder if he's stuck here on earth.  I'm hardly a religious (or even spiritual) person.  Since his death my life was consumed with snakes (he knows I HATE snakes), mice (another thing he knows I hate), and two men I was interested in tell me they were gay.  I guess the joke is on me.

I cherish the days we spent together.  I'm not one to paint rainbows and butterflies on my past with him; because I'll be the first to tell you we were the couple that argued A. LOT.  Reflecting on this relationship made me realize our love was more than the two of us could handle; and not in a sappy, romantic way...but more in a "it was way too heavy, and mature for our immature brains to be able to digest, comprehend and appreciate" kind of way.

He was my Caring Panda, and I was his Sugar Marmot; cheesy pet names, yes, but that's who we were when we were together (and things were good) - cheesy.  We were both goof balls and I know at our core we cherished the authentic goofy sides of each other.

Walking away from him when I did, the only way I coped was for my life to evolve into a chaotic bajillion miles per hour.  Working 40 hours a week (that truthfully totaled 50 hours per week when taking into account lunch hours and commutes), raising a little boy as best as a single girl could, going back to school, the house, the dog, gardening....all of these things had distracted me from how much I actually missed him and us.  I know there have been moments during the years since we parted where I thought about him, and yearned to reconnect; but knowing he hadn't addressed his mental health issues was all I needed to know to stop myself.

Every day I walk to work I pass the building where we met.  I pass the dorm where we spent many nights together, and the hotel he spontaneously rented a room from to surprise me with flowers and a burnt cd filled with slow songs so we could hold each other dancing close.

Have you ever had a person in your life with whom you've decided (both you and the person, collectively) you'll be each other's back-up plan?  You know, when, if you both aren't married by a certain age, you'll marry each other...?  We were each other's back-up plans; and aside from living, and seeking professional help, that was the only other thing he never followed through with.

He was my love, and dammit, I miss him.

Missing him.

I wanted to call him. My stomach was churning. I felt alone. I missed him.

Mark and I haven't spoken in a long time. In fact, I decided to cut him out my life because our relationship continued to spiral in a vicious circle, never improving.

1. We would be civil with each other.
2. We would spend a lot of time with one another.
3. He would become irritated with me for always wanting to go out and spend money.
4. I would grow irritated with him for being so darn irritable, and never wanted to talk with me. A fight would ensue.
5. We wouldn't talk for a while.
6. Return to step one.

After the discussion with my mom, I felt horrible and completely alone. Disagreeing with your family is a very isolating feeling for me. I love the few friends I have, but they are busy with their own life, and I didn't feel comfortable admitting to them what I had said, or publicizing how I felt about my brother (which is ironic in itself since I'm broadcasting my feelings on the internet without blinking an eye, I digress). The only person I could think about talking to was Mark.

I miss him when life gets hard. I miss the ways he would try to cheer me up in his own goofy way. I miss the good times we shared with one another, but know the negative animosity we also shared is too strong for me to return to him. As much fun as we had together, we were poison when combined, and for this reason, I resisted my urge to call.

Turning Back Tuesday's

Please forgive me...I've been a horrible poster/reader/commenter this past week. What can I say? I suck!

So...about Mark.

He gave me his email...I wrote him. A series of instant messages followed. I couldn't tell if he was as "in" to me as I was to him.

Christmas break rolled around, and I decided I was going to make my move. I told him I was having a Christmas party...and I was so smooth, that he was the only guy I had invited. It was innocent, and fun. Drinking was involved (of course, DUH!) and before I knew it, our lips were entangled and my goal was accomplished.

He was mine.

I was so happy with our relationship. This was my second actual semi-serious boyfriend. His family was great. His friends were meh. Our relationship was met with challenges since I was going to school 2.5 hours away...I won't lie, I actually drove to the cities drunk because he was going to a strip club, and I had zero self esteem to handle that or control my actions.

I digress.

The classic thought "if I knew then what I know now" haunts me when I think about all of the silly things Mark and I mixed words over.

Did I mention Mark is completely opposite of me? He is very introverted and apathetic. I am very extroverted and sympathetic. He would prefer to sit in his room for 8 hours straight playing computer games. I prefer to go to the movies, meet friends at the bars or talk about nothing for hours. He feels like the world hates him. I love the world and everything it has to offer.

Almost every relationship has its negative stories associated with it. As frustrated as I am about our tainted history together, he really is and was an amazing guy.

On a college student's budget, he surprised me by renting a hotel room, getting my stuff into the room, setting up a romantic setting with a burned cd filled with romantic love songs, and completely sweeping me off of my feet. There hasn't been a man since who has done something so amazing for me.

A year and a half into our relationship, Mark and I sat down to have a serious talk. Things had been ugly between the two of us. It was almost as if our relationship tensions mimicked that of an unhappy married couple who had been wanting to divorce each other for over a decade. He looked at me, and told me he had something to tell me, but couldn't figure out how to say it.

To this day, I still think he was going to tell me he was gay. I don't know why, but if you could've seen the look on his face...

He told me he had become un-attracted to me because of my weight. I had gained the freshman 15 (ok, so maybe it was 20), but I wasn't grotesquely overweight. I was completely crushed. Maybe the look of fear on his face was his poor attempt at being sympathetic. He knew his words would crush me, and they did.

I told him to leave, and he did. That was the beginning of the end for Mark and I. From that moment on, what we had was broken. There wasn't a remedy to resolve our issues. We tried being friends with benefits. We tried just being friends. Our issues continued to circulate around dysfunction.

The night I had told Mark that I was pregnant, he stated the obvious thing to do was to have an abortion. He literally spelled it out. The baby wasn't his. I had been dating another guy (who I'll fill you in about later...). Maybe this is me making an excuse for Mark, but he is very analytical, and feared the costs of raising a child would break me. He knew I wasn't going to have support. I set him straight, gently reminding him that I was a strong person. Mark was actually in the hospital room when I delivered baby boy almost two and a half years ago (Marks face was a shade of white that can never be reproduced..I still chuckle when I think about it!).

My friendship with Mark ended a little over three months ago. He's still a great person, but had unresolved resentment towards me. He would bottle this resentment and explode at me (in front of baby boy) once every six months or so. I had warned him that I wouldn't tolerate behavior like that in front of baby boy...maybe he didn't think I was serious. Labor day weekend, he exploded at me in front of baby boy, and we haven't spoken since.

The story of Mark makes me smile, but also makes me cry. I can say with utmost certainty that I've grown a lot because of Mark (in more ways than one...haha, I'm funny!). I've also learned a lot from him, and for this, I am grateful.

Turning Back Tuesdays

Introducing: Mark

I wasn't one of those kids in high school who took trips to college's near and far to decide where I wanted to pay out my arse for a degree. I was one of those kids whose parents said "you're going to school, find one and apply...NOW!" My parents were all too consumed in their disasterous marriage to worry about taking me to the state schools or the private ones. That being said, I applied at UMD (the school everyone from the cities goes to for at least one year because they think it'll be awesome to get away from home..but it's close enough to return home if need be).

I was accepted, but had applied late into my senior year that I had been placed in overflow housing. In a nutshell, I lived in a hotel my first year of college. One would think "awesome!" but it was far from. I didn't meet the people I had expected to befriend.

My heart was back in the cities.

About a month into school, I took a trip to the Twin City campus to meet up with some kids from high school and party. When I was checking into the dorms, Mark (a boy I had gone to high school with) was the security guard. I had always had a secret crush on him. All I remember was we were in Chem together, and his icy blue eyes melted my soul.

I did what any college freshman would do. I went up to the dorm I was visiting, did four shots of 100 proof vodka, and returned to the lobby to get Mark's info.

He gave me his email...which was the beginning of many things to come.

More next Tuesday! Stay tuned...