Here it goes. My dirty laundry.
Tonight, for the millionth time I found out something that:
A- made me instantly nauseous
B- I was not supposed to find
C- made me flush with anger
D- I was not supposed to be looking for
E- made my eyes feel dry, wishing they could not see
F- made me question my relationship...again
Being the completely jealous and kind of psycho girlfriend that I become once I sniff something is...off, over the past year or so I have found a shit ton of evidence that I should not be in the relationship I am in.
This has happenned so many times before w/ other ppl. But never has it broken my heart so many times, over and over again. Making me slowly despise parts of him. But affecting me like a venom serum of the conscience, making me completely loathe myself for putting up w/ this again.
Man after man, add in an ex husband and a boyfriend who cheated on me over 20 times. Now add, My Favorite. Add to the mix the one I believe to be my soulmate, for every breath acounted for together (keyword, together) in my mind has been a harmonious step in the direction we were meant to live, in the right direction.
I learned the detective routine from my mother. When I was about 5-6 my mother took my brother and I on a road trip to hell. Her personal hell. She had found out the address of this week's mistress and we went. To break in to her house. I think she was looking for him. But found no one.
I stayed in the car. But my brother being 10-11 participated because he was smart enough to keep a lookout and strong enoguh to help her out in case she needed any help. I heard anguished yelling and crashes of things that I imagined to be glass or porcelain. I looked for a sign of my family, my father even, past the tropical landscape in front of this stranger's house. Nothing.
Then, "Open the door! Open the door!" I looked at my mother dumfounded. Her hand wrapped in this strange lady's toilet paper, parts turned red, those parts dripping blood on the concrete. My mom holding the roll in her gory hand, tapped on the window as she jogged towards driver's side. "Diana! Are you deaf! Open the door for God's sake!"
I did so. And the excitement of it all, flooded into the car. My mother started the car and peeled away. My brother asking a book of questions to add to the encyclopedia that was his scientific mind. Why did you do that. Who's house was that? I saw my mother's intermitten smirk in the rearview mirror as she tried to explain, while not getting into an accident, and not being in too much pain, bleeding all over her white shirt.
I copied her smirk. I mirrored the joy she felt as she tried to explain this to us as a good thing. "I went into that 'Lola's' house and I smashed her things. She has tacky things and doesn't deserve anything for messing with you guys. He takes her out and we are in the house starving. I ruined her house so you can have good things. Ok papito?" I felt nothing but what my mom made me feel, happiness, that she had been brough to justice. That the problems with her and my father were over. My brother was silent, reflective.
Those problems are still not over. Not for me. They may have divorced. But I am not even separated from the memories. Because as soon as I am wronged, I will spy, I will hunt, I will find truth, I will cry and bleed, but I, I will destroy.