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Awful things have a tendency of popping up into my life like petulant pimples.

Car accidents, stress, sickness, sadness, you name it.

I’ve been through six car accidents of some kind. From hydroplaning, being t-boned, rear-ending someone, a stupid old woman cutting me off and meeting the side of her car head on, to me just being idiotic. One of the worst of these left me with a concussion so bad that I couldn’t see out of my left eye, couldn’t walk on my leg, and slept through an entire week. The next time I messed up my back. I was thrown off a horse onto my already damaged back. Nice. To be honest, the accidents I’ve been in could have been a lot worse than as they did. I never had any blood or cool scars to show for myself, but did have some wicked bruises that decorated my body. Coming close with death a couple of times doesn’t even come close to what I consider my biggest bullet dodged.

The pale horse of Pestilence has plagued my throughout my life. I see he couldn’t wait until the End of the World for me. Seriously though, I’ve been a sickly person. From strep affecting my internal organs, shingles, kidney disease, herniated discs, chronic inexplicable bladder pain, cervical problems, as the story in my usually goes; you name it. I’ve spent the majority of my life battling some pain or another, to the point where I just accept that as my quality of life. Still, the sicknesses I’ve suffered and overcome are nothing to the tragedy that would have been my life if I hadn’t escaped his tyrannous grasp.

Allow me to introduce you to the biggest “bullet dodged” of my life: Nero. Yes, I did anonymously name him after the despotic and cruel 5th Emperor of the Roman Empire. [I can really drag this story out, so I’ll briefly recount this for you guys]

I met Nero through one of my first jobs at the late and great, Food Lion. I was sixteen and a cashier, or “Sales Associate”. He had a long blond mop of a hair cut; looking back I still cringe. I was entranced with him at my young age, and he was interested right back. He kissed me in the parking lot after work one night. That was my first real kiss. His breath stank; it usually always did.

From that moment a tumultuous relationship began. After a month, he broke up with me. I was devastated. We had started arguing very often, and he said he “couldn’t see us ending up together in the long run.” We kept talking and he asked me for a second chance. I was so excited but calmly and demurely [he hadn’t ruined me just yet and I still had personality and was pretty brave] said, “Maybe.” Things then got progressively worse. His family was always against me because I was Catholic, outspoken, opinionated, intelligent [more so than their golden boy-Barf], and shone brilliantly. They were of the Pentecostal religion, spoiled their children [literally…Nero would cry to me if he didn’t get his way at home or with me], believed the woman should be subservient [uh…fuck that], and were just so standoff-ish and snobby [for white trash]. He so subtly started breaking down my personality, morals, and courage and started instilling in me weakness, dependency, and fear. I feared that I would mess up and he would leave me.

This is how he broke me. He broke up with me probably [on the low side] six or seven times during our two-year escapade. For seven months, actually, he would have sex with me, I would celebrate holidays with him and visa versa, we would go out on dates, he would call me “his girl”, all the good stuff. When we were out in public and asked if we were a couple  he would deny it. He refused to call me his girlfriend because he “didn’t know” if he wanted be with me, all the while, leading me along so he could fumble around on my body pleasuring only himself. It got to the point where I kid you not, we argued every day, and I would cry myself to sleep. My family was so worried about me, and hated the mere mention of his name. They had so many “interventions” with me it’s not even funny. He had won, though, at that point. I believed it was my own fault, and that they just didn’t like him, or seeing me in love.

I lost literally all of my friends. I shunned them for Nero, so I was majorly to blame, but let’s be honest if the friends I had at the time were really friends they wouldn’t have left so easily. I didn’t care about college, or work, I just wanted and needed to be with him all the time to be happy. He cheated on me. I would find out about it, and catch him, and then run right back to him. He somehow would turn it around to “how dare I accuse him of cheating”, and “he can’t be with me if I’ll never trust him”, and “if I really loved him I would stop acting this way”. I bought it; hook, line, and sinker. The sadistic bastard asked me to marry him on a promise ring he had bought me, while screwing around with girls at his school the whole time. Since I went to a different high-school, I didn’t find out just how bad he was until I worked and became best friends with two girls that had went to school with him…and may I add…hated him already.

I would grovel for him to stay. I’m not saying that metaphorically either, guys. I would literally beg for more of his shit. He had me right where he wanted me. I would plan all kinds of elaborate treats for him to show him how much I cared. Did he ever return the sentiment? Ha, that’s funny. I once set up a romantic night to show him how much I loved him. I bought, on my limited salary, over 50 candles [to arrange in a heart around me], sunflowers [his nickname for me], pizza, cake, and of course sexy attire. I was sitting in the middle of the floor, encased in the light of candlelight, with rose petals leading his way to me….and he ended up screwing me and leaving. Oh, and I still wasn’t good enough to be “his girlfriend”. I’m telling you guys honestly, I hated looking at myself in the mirror. I abhorred who I had become. I would cry all of the time. He had won. He had broken me verbally, psychologically, and sometimes physically.

We had the cops called on us a couple of times because of the way he would make a scene, and scream his head off at me. I bought right into it. I took it for “passionate love”. I thought that no one could tell me how “our love” was supposed to be. The only people who could know what worked for us was ourselves. One of the final straws was when he actually kidnapped me. Yep, he was that kind of special. Whenever I finally, after a long night of intervention from my family, ended our relationship once and for all he said, “Whatever.” That was his response to two years. Of course, once he realized his little broken bird had wings and was flying away, he panicked and tried to make contact with me and reconcile. I thought back to how much I had given him; my life, my heart, my virginity, my soul, my fucking everything. I thought about how he had stomped on the fire I had, and laughed as he did it. I very kindly told him to go fuck himself.

Over the passing years, I know that I’ve learned about life and love from him but majorly I thank God for giving me the strength to finally break that cycle. I still find myself finding more and more areas within myself that he had broken. Now that Matt has come into my life and started piecing me back together, I realize just what love means. Sure, we certainly have had our ups and downs but damn it if I haven’t found the love of my life. I literally thank God for Matt; our relationship is night and day compared to the era of Nero. I would have married Nero and had kids with him. My life would be the life of a sheltered, broken, and battered woman. That’s without a doubt. Instead of crying every day, I wake up smiling at my man and we take on the world together. Importantly as well, I am closer with my family now then I ever was allowed to be with Nero. That means everything to me.

So there you have it. The short version of the biggest bullet I dodged in my past. I had to leap of the train set full speed ahead for a cliff. I remained broken for a long time until someone with the right equipment and patience found me and loved me for who I am. I can’t begin to express to you all out there, that if you have a relationship with someone they way I did with Nero, how much I know what you’re going through and am willing to help. I know the pain and desolation, but you can get over it. Time helps, but it’s a day by day kind of healing. I had to teach myself, before Matt and I found each other, how to live again on my own and be happy. It is possible.


I love you all, seriously, unless you are a Patriots fan. [Just kidding…but seriously] I am still recovering from my devastation over Manning and the Broncos’ loss to Pansy-Ass Brady last night. I swear he gets his panties in more of a wad than any girl I’ve ever known. To all of you Patriots fans, here is a nice smile and a [slightly cold…because it’s freezing out there] middle finger salute. It’s okay that I say this….I have Patriots lovers in my own family. Traitors.

Ya’ll [and in the spirit of ladylike manners, I am including New England fans] have a great day out there, and stay warm!