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Triggering (Suicide) - I shouldn't care...
This thread isn't about me. It's the ex.
After all he put me through, he still seems to think he can win me back. Yeah, mate. I really want to go back to the beatings, being told I'm a slag, a slut, a **** mother.
Mothers. Heh. Think they know best, really. Yet you find out that the best is usually wrong afterwards. My own mother included. Myself included.
So, I spend 11 days with the parents. Up until then, I was so convinced that Jamie was not having access to Darrell. I wasn't willing to put myself or my son in a situation where Jamie could find out where we were, or even hurt us. I always thought that'd be enough for my son. That he'd understand.
But according to my mother, I'm wrong. And according to my god-damned sister in law, I'm wrong. I had to hear from both f them that the best thing to do would be to offer Jamie the chance to meet in Norwich. If he doesn't turn up, then it's his own loss. I then know what to tell Darrell.
But which is harder to tell your son. You wouldn't let his father see him because he was a woman beating piece of ****, that started turning aggressive towards his son? Or that his dad couldn't be arsed to make the effort to see him. Which is harder to hear? Because he'd hear the truth sooner or later.
Like a fool, though, I got convinced I was wrong. So, when I got back to England, I phoned him. After letting him know his son was ok, and offering him the chance to see his son, he asked if I was seeing anyone. "Yes" I confessed. I can't lie. I could never lie to him as it was. "Moved on quick, di'n't ya?" he asked. Oh yes. Despite the fact I was over you a long time before I left you. I was trying to leave him. And now I've found someone who, despite a shaky start where he felt intimidated by my past, I feel at ease with.
Anyway. Monday. I phoned him to let him know I couldn't meet him on Friday. And he responds with "I wasn't going to meet you anyway". He then goes on to tell me he'd been having stupid thoughts.
I should have known better, but I asked. So he told me. He'd been thinking of self harm, and that it had been since he'd found out I'd moved on.
I recieved a phone call later on that evening from his step mother. He'd been talking about ending it all. Killing himself. He knows my past. Part of me wonders if he thinks that hitting me where it hurts will remind me of how alone I felt. Encourage me to go back, so he's not alone. Because if he was really contemplating it, he wouldn't talk about it. He forgets I know that.
But then what if he was serious? They're trying to get him into therapy. Therapy? Could they not give him a lethal dose of something? He won't stick out any therapy. Ever. The anger management didn't work. The alcohol therapy didn't work. He dropped both of those after two sessions.
But what messes with my head is if he did try it. Oh goody. Then we have three possible things to tell my son. He was a woman beating piece of ****, he didn't want to see his son, or he killed himself. What the hell would that do to my son. My son doesn't deserve to hear his dad killed himself. Because in my family, it'd come out.
And why should he get the chance to escape what he did to me? Why should he escape the memory of threatening me with a knife, or the hundreds of times he hit me, or when he threatened to kill me and my son? Why should all that be forgotten because he's suicidal? Why should anyone forget who or what he really is?
I didn't think I hated him. I can lie to everyone else around me. But the truth is, he destroyed what little self belief I had left. And somehow, I'm rebuilding that. But I want to haunt him. I want him to remember what he did to me. I want him to live to be 100 and be haunted by those memories. I'll put them behind me one day. I'm getting there. I deserve to forget. But he. No, he should never forget. Why should he move on with his life?
So, Jamie. Don't kill yourself. Not because I love you. In fact, the reverse. I hate you. You're the first person in my life that I've ever hated. And I want those memories to sear into the back of your eyes. I want every girl you meet to see you for who you are before you can hurt them. I want you to die as an old man, and realise that you've lost everything in your life, as you can only think with your fists. You're a pathetic excuse for a man. And now that's off my chest, I'm off to get on with my life.
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