Okay, I'm officially sick of this story, so I'm going to skip ahead about two months to the next significant thing that happened. During that interim I can say nothing much changed except I had more to do to occupy my time and kept losing more and more weight. During this time I let some friends and family in on what was going on. It sucked. We all cried. Nothing changed.
Finally early one morning in mid-December I woke up and something snapped. I don't know if a particular event caused it or I'd finally just had enough. I can't imagine it was only one particular thing, as I'd already had to deal with seeing and hearing things no married person should ever have to see or hear and I was still alive. I think I was pretty much done with that place and what was going on. The only time I felt okay was when I was not there, so I figured it was time to leave for good. Whatever was going to happen would have to happen with me living elsewhere.
I wish I could tell you I did the responsible thing as far as my job was concerned, but I'm all about being truthful so I can't. Once I decided to leave, I didn't want to be there another day. Another hour. I got dressed, packed a small bag, wrote a long and probably very psycho letter to my bosses which I left on my desk before anyone else arrived (I made sure to get there before daylight just in case), filled the gas tank, bought cigarettes and got the fuck out of dodge. I had seven dollars left. How very bohemian of me.
Now that I think about it, Brian must've had custody of the dog during that time - we were taking turns because both of us love him that much.
So I was alone when I left, no furry buddy by my side. I'm sure I was sad about that, but as I merged onto I-75 south I shot the whole town a bird and turned the radio up. I felt like I could breathe easier already. This would kick off about a month of me hitting the road whenever I got too sad. I don't know how I managed it money-wise, but if ever you find yourself in this situation, I can't recommend road trip therapy enough. I had people who loved me all over the state and all of them - ALL of them told me to come and stay. As long as I wanted, it didn't matter.
But, the first place I headed was pretty logical - my hometown. I knew I wasn't going to stay with my parents, as they only knew the bare minimum of what was going on. My best friend's house, on the other hand, was a very attractive prospect - it is like a cocoon of security in a big and shitty world. I showed up without calling first to her job at a doctor's office on a Tuesday morning. When she saw me walk in, she didn't say much but got out her house keys and handed them to me. Mind-reading comes in handy when there are people around you don't want hearing your bidness.
The only awkward part of going there was her boyfriend at the time, who happens to be Brian's best friend. Except it wasn't really awkward since he was on my side throughout pretty much the whole thing. Not that we made people take sides. It just sort of started happening naturally after a few months had passed and Brian still couldn't seen to make up his mind as to what he wanted to do.
That Christmas was one of the worst days of my life. I didn't talk to him, but I did talk to his parents, which made everything worse. They were sad and told me they hoped Brian would come to his senses soon (he was classy enough never to share with him my portion of the blame - you'll need to remember that soon when I tell you something else that will piss you the hell off). I'm pretty sure that was the only day I took sedatives while it was still daylight - anything to make the day be over. Another friend swooped in toward the end of the day and forced me to go to Orlando with her, where more of our friends were and also my sister and brother-in-law. I didn't really want to go, but getting on the road again was better than sitting around like a lost pathetic character in a bad novel - I was in and we were out.
Somehow later that night, JR tracked me down. He was someone that also spent a lot of time on the road, for a myriad of reasons, none of them good. But he was only a few hours away - did I want to see him. The truth was I sure did. I mean, come on. I hadn't seen my husband or dog for a long time by then.
Here's where details get swirly for awhile, so I'll end here for now. Let's just say this started the Dark Period, where sobriety wasn't a big part of my life for a little while. A little vacation from reality was what I wanted and it was easy to choose. I admire people who handle a crisis without a crutch. I was not one of them.