Self Help

& Mean

I guess it should have been a warning sign when I found myself cleaning my room in a blind fury, singing Taylor Swift's "Mean" at the top of my lungs and thinking of Jake.

Actually, it should have been the last straw.

But somehow, it wasn't.

To tell you truth, the time I spent with Jake, the second time around, all blurs together. In a lot of ways I don't want to remember how shitty I felt about myself at that time, or revisit how much I was struggling. 

I'd become a master at ignoring my feelings, and no matter how angry I got or how hurt I was, I couldn't be honest with myself. This became another exercise for my stubborn will - I was completely unwilling to back down. But more than that, I was tired, and bruised. Jake's complicated family life and emotional problems made it too easy for me to make excuses for him. I felt that I was spoiled by the upbringing I'd had, and that in a way, if I left Jake because of his issues, I'd be turning my back on someone who needed me. When I felt that I would leave, I also felt incredibly guilty and selfish.

The summer before fourth year, I decided I'd had enough. I broke up with Jake and I woke up the next morning to find a three page hand written letter he'd left on my door step during the night, filled with his apologies and pictures of us when we were happy. He did that every day for the whole week, until I forgave him. He was a master of the romantic gesture, and always knew what to say when he needed to get me back. 

When I was home for Thanksgiving during my fourth year of University, I visited Jake's family for dinner. For dessert his whole extended family gathered in the living room. Jake's dad was drunk, and Jake was angry. I suggested that we clean up the dishes and started gathering them from his family members. I asked Jake to help me and he blew me off. Embarassed by his public dismissal, I headed to the kitchen and stood at the sink. I was used to feeling uncomfortable when I was with Jake, but I was getting really tired. Alone in the kitchen, I began to fill the sink and wash the dishes. I listened for Jake's footsteps coming to help, but they never came. Instead, I turned to find his mother standing there. She could see I was upset. 

"You know something?", I turned to face her.

"Jake reminds me a lot of his dad, when he was your age. The only question is whether or not you will stay."

She looked me in the eye, and we stood there in silence. 

That conversation weighed heavy on my mind, especially because I saw the similarities too. Jake had always talked about wanting to marry me, and when I tried to picture it, I felt sick in the pit of my stomach. When I thought of a future together, all I could think of was that it would be more of this. Eventually we'd have children, and then I would have to explain to them why I'd brought them into a world with a father who would treat them the same way that he'd been treated.

But the thing about volatile relationships is that they simply cannot be sustained. Eventually they are bound to implode. 

Halloween was coming, and Jake had a few days of easy class scheduling so he wanted to take a long weekend and come visit me in Ottawa. He would spend the week with me, staying behind when I had classes, and when the weekend came he would join me at Halloween parties with friends. The only problem with this plan was that I had an incredibly damanding week. 

Jake and I argued over the phone because he wouldn't take no for an answer. I'd be done my assignments by Friday and that was when I would be ready to see him. He yelled and swore and got so angry that eventually I hung up. I didn't know what else to do. I felt relief in the dialtone.

But five hours later there was a knock at my door, and once again, that sickness in the pit of my stomach. 

I could see his silhouette illuminated by the porch light, and I didn't even want to open the door. I was taking a break from my essay writting with my roommates, and I just wanted some down time. Our house was small and they'd heard our fighting, and now I flushed red with embarassment as they shot each other knowing glances.