Untangled 44: A thin place

**Disclaimer: Trigger Warning **

I checked into a hotel in Oak Brook, then headed to my daughter’s new salon suite to get a brow wax. We had dinner and talked about things. We commiserated for a while, then she told me she never thought I should’ve been with him. She laid out the obvious differences between us and, ultimately, was just glad I was free of him. We had a good evening together. I needed that.

The next day, I dropped by my sister’s house to say hello. I was in town for only three nights, so I was basically doing drive-by visits with family. I hadn’t planned on staying long because I still needed to go see my mom. We sat in my sister’s living room and went over a few pleasantries before she said, “So when’s the wedding?”

I said, “We broke up four months ago.”

She sighed and said, “Good.”

I said, “Why do you say that?” She had only met him twice, and we didn’t have that kind of relationship; we never did. I don’t think she hates me, but I know I’m just not her favorite person. We are different as far as ambition and how we view the world; she has always thought I thought I was better than her. That wasn’t true, we just see the world through a different lens.

She said, “He didn’t like you at all.”

My heart started racing, I felt the tentacles of heat crawl up my neck. I didn’t want to ask what she meant because I thought I did a nice job burying that painful chapter and throwing away the shovel, never to discuss that chapter again.

She said, “Kim, when we were there in January, he said some pretty mean things about you.”

I said, “And could all of this have happen?”

She said, “On the drive when he would drop us off at our hotel room. He couldn’t wait to start in on you. It started because I asked “when was he going to propose?” He said, ‘I have a ring in my pocket right now, but not for her.’ He then said “I would never marry her” he went into how his family and friends hate you; that’s why he doesn’t bring you around them. He said several of your friends messaged him for his number, and he considered giving it to one in D.C. He told my husband that you were jealous of me because he told you that I look better than you.” She smiled on that.

I stopped breathing. She wasn’t lying, she counts have know that stuff unless he told her. I blurted out that I had never met any of his family or friends. That was all I had, I was speechless. I couldn’t cry in front of my sister; that would’ve given her too much joy. She didn’t like me enough to offer me any comfort. I was sitting through my biggest fear and the ultimate betrayal. He knew the strained relationship my sister and I had, and he did this. This hurt worse than ANYTHING I endured at his hands. I tried to wear a brave face, but it was cracking. I had to get out of there.

She then called her husband into the room, as if I needed to hear more of how horrible I was. He corroborated the entire story. He was more compassionate though. He said, “Kim, I asked him why he was with you if he didn’t like you. He couldn’t answer that. I told him I didn’t want to hear any more; it’s not right… she doesn’t deserve this.”

He looked sympathetic, but my sister looked indifferent. I looked at my lap, rubbed my knees and said, “Well, I’d better be heading back to the room. I’m getting tired.” They each gave me a quick hug, and I trotted to my rental and sped off without looking back at them standing on the porch. My head was spinning; I needed to scream. I pulled onto the next block out of their sight, put the car in park, and screamed. I cried like I’d never cried on that side street in Melrose Park. Everyone knew who he was but me. Everyone knew he hated me including me, the difference is they believed it and I didn’t. I was humiliated. I had nobody in this whole wide world, and it hurt. That realization hurt and still does today. This hurts to write, to edit, to pass for spelling. This HURTS.

Was I that hard to love? Was I this bad that my only sister knew this man hated me and couldn’t be bothered to say ANYTHING to me? She would’ve watched me marry him and not said anything. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t mad at her really, because this is who we were; I had a part in us getting here. She wasn’t lying being who she is and who she is to me.

I needed to get to my hotel room. Once in my room, I sat on the floor facing the window and allowed myself to break down. I needed to cry—but not for him. He didn’t deserve my tears. I cried for me. I cried for my heart. I didn’t protect it. I handed it out so freely only to get it bad hardened and damaged. I was that stupid and needy for a man that I accepted one who caused me more loss and pain than anyone I had ever met.

Just then, a thin thought popped into my head. I was already in Chicago, and Zoey was with the sitter in Dallas. I would end it all right in my hotel room. I was mentally, emotionally, financially, and spiritually exhausted. I was simply too tired to go on. I was head over heels in debt; I had nobody and nothing. My life was not at all what I envisioned as a child. I was a failed entrepreneur, a failed wife, a failed mother, a failed sister, a failed daughter—it seemed everyone hated me. I had to pay for company and attention, and I was emotionally spent. I had not won at anything, and I was nobody’s favorite person. Even the man I bought didn’t like me. What sense did it make to continue on?! I would be doing everyone a favor. I couldn’t feel this anymore; I didn’t want to “FEEL” anything ever again.

I was running out of tears. My shirt was drenched, and my eyes were nearly swollen shut. The thought of how horrible my life had turned out, compounded with the realization that this man hated my guts so much that he would talk about me to my family was the ultimate betrayal. I figured he was talking about me to his family and friends, but MY family added another layer to it. He wanted me to have nothing. How could anyone be so calloused? It didn’t matter that everything he told her was fabricated; in her mind, it was all true and no matter what I said it would always be true to her.

The next fleeting thought to interrupt me was, “How many sleep aids do you have?” I counted them along with the other OTC stuff I had, and I had roughly 26 pills. I remembered the hotel had a store downstairs, and I could go buy another bottle of something to make sure this was the one thing I didn’t fail at. I would leave no note. There was nothing to be said; I had no desire to correct anyone’s thoughts or images of me. I was ready to be done. God had made a mistake.. I was the source of pain for a lot of people.

As I stood to get my water from the table, I had a moment of clarity. Suddenly, I felt peace. I forgot the thoughts that were literally just there. Why was I holding those pills? I felt the overwhelming urge to start singing, “How Great Is Our God,” and I did. I did for the next hour. I walked that room and clapped, and lifted my hands and I praised God. The spirit of heaviness and despair had taken me over, and I didn’t see them coming. I would not be allowed to not process this. I had too before this happened again.

This is the ugly part of grief. The ugly, thin part of life. You want the world to stop for a moment but it won’t. The part that either makes you or breaks you. I had been bent, but not broken. That painful episode made me want to live now more than ever. I didn’t want to prove anything to him or anyone. I just wanted to show the devil that HE DIDN’T WIN. I NEEDED to win.