The Chaos Is Orchestrated

If you had a moment to think, you’d find your way out of his telenovela.

My last relationship was clouded by constant drama.

No, it’s not what you’re thinking. I’m pretty solid on my drama-free stance. I prefer my peace, and often will retreat to my office when a situation becomes loud or messy.

I simply don’t care for dramatics.

My ex was a completely different animal, though. He thrived on drama. He was a gossip and couldn’t keep information to himself if you paid him to.

His niece confided something in me once that was pretty important. I knew it was above my current paygrade, family-wise, so I told him after relating to him in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t his secret to tell and we needed to find a solution that didn’t involve betraying her trust.

Within 45 minutes of getting the scoop, he had called both his sister and his mother to repeat everything I told him, all the way down to the well-timed cadences.

There was no reason for this information to be shared with them other than starting family drama. And that is exactly what it did.

I knew then I couldn’t trust him with any information I didn’t want the entire area code to know before the close of business that day. He had no idea how to close his mouth about even the most trivial of matters.

The Apple and the Tattletale Tree

I’ve been talked about since I was a pre-teen; I developed early, came from a questionable family background, and live in a small, Southern town. You can’t say anything behind my back that someone hasn’t already said to my face.

The comfortable way I live my truth is unbothered by white trash in-laws and bratty spies who nearly broke their fucking ankles to get to my social media and try to find something about me that isn’t awesome.

Spoiler alert: That’s a futile search. I’m fantastic.

It seemed everything said and done in my house was documented and relayed to his ex-wife and her family, after which they would speak of me as though they knew me and had some sort of reason to be stalking me through a mutually reared child.

It was gross.

My column, here and on Substack, being scrutinized by folk who barely have a grasp on what you or I refer to as grammar. After spending $250 on Christmas gifts for his son, who literally wouldn’t speak a word to me outside of a mumbled “thanks”, I was told their favorite things to do as a family was crack what they consider to be jokes at my expense.

Every petty fiber of my being wanted to go repossess the Doc Martens and podcast mic I gifted his son. I chose to be the better woman, but by God, barely so. We’re talking a hairs’ width.

Hell, who knows if I won’t still lose that fight. Imagine sitting around calling me names and I am already on my way to restock your stocking so it can go to a worthy individual instead.

Now that’s a fucking joke I can laugh at. That’s a real side-splitter.

There Was a Pattern Emerging

He made himself an ex by dismantling any trust I had in him. He wasn’t just loose with information that wasn’t his to share, he was also a frequent liar by omission.

He invited a woman into my home he called a “friend”. In reality, folks, this was his pill supplier and also someone he dated (read: slept with) prior to dating me. Within 3 minutes of meeting her, I knew there was history he wasn’t being forthcoming about.

I didn’t need it confirmed; I could tell by their behaviors. Why make a scene when they were creating one just fine on their own?

Of course, at the conclusion of that circus of a relationship, the “friend’s” brother informed me that, not only had my ex slept with one of his sisters, but both of them, prior to us dating.

Keep in mind, he was 8 months out of a 17 year relationship and marriage when we got together. Seems he was speed running through every woman he was affiliated with at that point.

Messy and drama-filled. I never recovered from the ick I felt after I knew the truth. Being a community dick might be suitable for some women, but I don’t want one of those.

Thanks, anyway.

The Event Which Sparked the End

He was supposed to be at his parents, visiting with his children, for the night. I was at home with my dog because I’m a hella responsible dog mom.

Then I got a call. It was my ex’s mother. She wanted to know if I knew where he was. He was allegedly on his way in from work hours earlier, still had not arrived, and his behavior during calls and texts was worrisome to her.

I didn’t even need more than one guess to find him. Remember that “friend”, the supplier of things he swore he no longer took and sneaky link sister #1?

I sent sneaky link 1 a message telling her that he needed to sober up and get his ass to his mom’s at that moment, or I would come and deliver him to her house. Within ten minutes, she replied he had just left no more than a half hour prior.

Uh huh. I’ll bet.

And just like that, in my heart, I was through. In my mind, I was separating belongings, and practicing my “I simply can’t continue to take this” tone that would soon color my phrasing.

In my heart, we were over.

It turns out, once I was alone with my thoughts for a night, once I was able to think without the whirlwind of chaos, only one conclusion was logical.

Anything else would have been the same as telling him I approved of the Barnum and Bailey act he chose for his life. Anything other than leaving would say I tolerated and participated in the dramatics.

I didn’t need a guest starring role in that shitshow. The original cast was carrying the plot line just fine.

Give Yourself Time to Think

When I sat down and listened to the peace I had without him, I never wanted to be surrounded with that much chaos again. Some people thrive on it; I’m not one of them.

If you’re always hearing the background chatter, you can’t listen to your own thoughts and feelings. You can’t hear what you want for yourself because of all of the background static.

Give yourself the gift of quiet moments to yourself. You may find it’s where you left your best version of yourself.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.