I ran away on Friday. I finally lost it and left. I left my house, my dog, my son…
I came home from work feeling exhausted and I knew I needed to rest, sleep for an hour in the chair, but I forced myself to get up and take the dog for a walk. We went to her favorite trail, my son and I. Its shady and a flat walk which I can usually handle after a long day. She’s always allowed off leash. For a year she’s been under voice command. Something I’m really proud of her for. She got up ahead, like she usually does, but is always quick to come back an make eye contact with me. This day I was too tired to care. I felt like I was going to collapse.
As we rounded the corner some angry woman with a rather large, aggressive sheep dog yelled, “Don’t you have a leash for your dog!?” It was obvious that the two dogs were getting into a tussle, but I know my dog, she is submissive, especially towards a larger dog. I assume her dog made the first move and mine got defensive, hackles up, growling. So I reply to this surly bitch, “No I don’t”. “Well you should have a leash for your dog!”. If I wasn’t being pushed to my breaking point, I probably would have apologized and told her to just calm the fuck down. At this point I had already called my dog back and was holding her by her collar. She was being a good girl. So I’m like, “Look I’m having a bad day! Just leave me alone!!”. “FUCK YOU” she hurls at me, so of course I have to respond back with a big FUCK YOU TOO!!!
And as if to add insult to injury, the bitch keyed my brand new car.
We sat by the the edge of the creek. The dog trying her best to hide from us under the lip of the bank. My son was worried about her, worried about me, about what was going to happen next. Then… something took over. Things started to move very slowly, and I said to him, I have to go away. You have to go stay with your dad for a while. He started to cry. For how long? I don’t know. A week, two weeks, a month. I don’t Know! Just tell me you’ll come back… I need to know you’re going to come back. YES, I’LL COME BACK!
I got us back to the house and started packing. I hastily threw stuff into a bag, making random choices, not really caring much. I told my son to pack a bag for his dads house. Put anything into it that he wanted over there. I grabbed a sleeping bag and a pillow for me. Threw everything into the car, leaving the lights on windows open, I’m not even sure I locked the front door. As we left, my son handed me the iPad, “Just in case you might need it” he said. That’s my little angel, always thinking of others. We loaded into the car and he asked me if he called if I would pick up. I said “Of course”. We got to his fathers house quickly, I told him to grab his pack and I grabbed all of his coats and the dog, walked right in and dumped everything on the floor. All I said was ” I can’t do this anymore.”
Who does that? Who talks to their 10 year old child that way? A monster.
It’s unforgivable. Absolutely Unforgivable.
And I still feel sick enough to end my life to escape the repercussions of it all and putting all of the pieces back together. I guess I knew this day would come. When my son would take a major hit for my disorder. And here it is… now here it is…