The feels

I felt – no – I realized something recently. I realized that I flipped my “feels” switch. I switched it to off. I’m not entirely sure when I did it. I think it was gradual. I am fairly certain it wasn’t intentional. I always liked my feels, at least I think I did.

What initially made me realize it was another baby girl moment. Around 12:03 AM on New Year’s Day, she started texting. Texts were as follows:

You up

He just called the cops on me – idk

Probably going to jail

Can dad come

I need the door to get fixed

I’m out he’s throwing everything out

She called at some point in between the texts. I was asleep and yes, somewhat tipsy from celebrating NYE. The first call was to say she wanted to leave but couldn’t get her car out. Wow, can you imagine that drippy dick parks her car in? Shocking.

(Rant warning – like the time about a month ago when they drove to Walmart in her car so she could buy food for them at like 10PM with her food stamps and he made her go in the store alone, kept the keys and stayed in her car. She called me crying not knowing what to do or where to turn. She didn’t know if he would even be in the parking lot when she went out. I gave her all the options possible and as always, she did nothing. Rant over)

She called a second time. I could hear she was walking. She said she had Goose, her cat, and was going to her car and she was coming home. That was around 12:30 AM.

I fell into a restless sleep. I stirred at every noise, but it was never the garage door going up. I looked outside for her car during every bathroom trip. Her car was never there. So, I woke up New Year’s Day not knowing if she was dead or alive, again. I started all the checking. Checking social media to see when she was last active, sending text messages, sending facebook messages, calling her over facebook messenger, calling her two cell phones. And I got no response. I fought with the idea of calling the police department in her area and asking them to check on her welfare. But, there are so many buts that go along with that.

She finally responded around 11AM, via text. She was alive.

Since it was New Year’s Day, my very small family was going to be gathering around 1PM for the annual pork, sauerkraut and knepp. And if you don’t know how amazing that meal is, I feel sorry for you. She sent a text at 12:30 AM that she was on her way. I was shocked, but thrilled. She showed up. She looked awful, so skinny, too skinny.

I did my best to talk to her to try and find out if she was physically OK. I know she isn’t mentally OK. She said she was. She said they fought until 3AM and then he slept in bed and she slept on the sofa (I didn’t even know they had a sofa). Drippy told her she should stay because he was concerned about her driving with all the drunks on the road. Yes, you read that correctly. I asked if she was done with the bullshit and she said she was. She said everything was packed, but she needed to fix the back door, according to drippy dick, because she shut the door and the hinge was now loose. Yeah, that’s because she lives in a shithole and has a slumlord as a landlord. The frame is rotting out. Drippy dick told her that her dad has to come fix the door. Oh, I have so many comments for drippy on that one. Sooooooooooooooooooooooo many comments. She said would leave the next day when drippy was at work. We, my and my husband, were off the following day as our work holiday. I felt better being home when she got there.

She texted first the next day. I asked what was happening and she said what we planned on. She said she guessed she was leaving. This was the text I got “He told me just to go so he can heal and grow without the weight of me on him.” HOLY FUCKING WOW. But there was still the issue of the door that her dad had to fix. As we were trying to figure out what would be needed to fix the door and if drippy left for work, she sent the following, “Yeah, I was jut gonna text dad back. Just forget about it. idk what’s wrong with me or why I stay. I think the back door is as fixed as it’s going to get, its a piece of shit anyway. I just have to go to Home Depot at some point I guess and get a new bathroom door and see if they can put the hole in it for the doorknob and what not.” That’s because the bathroom door also got broken during their fight.

She stayed, again.

That’s the last I have talked to her. Back to my feels. I don’t cry the way I used to, I don’t hurt the way I used to, I don’t feel the way I used to. And it’s not just with my baby girl. It’s with everything. I’m not reaching out to friends to check on them or reaching out to family the way I should.

The feels have been boxed up. Tucked neatly away like my Holiday decorations. No extra chaos in my brain! Keep those feels far, far away. Fuck. Am I pretending again? Or have I actually gotten so used to hurting that I am now numb to it? I would hate to see what would happen if I dusted off some of the feels.

Author: howdoilifeweb

Late 40's, wife, mom, daughter, sister, friend.

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