I remember the day pretty well. I was a little cranky that day for whatever reason. I was in the kitchen making tea in a pot on the stove and when it was finished boiling I turned off the burner and proceeded to lift the pot off the hot surface when the handle of the pot was unknowingly broken so the pot swirls upside down while I’m holding it spilling the contents on me and my hand. Burnt I yell out in pain and Dakota thinks it’s a good idea to not only laugh at me but criticize me for not knowing the pot was broken.

That set me off and I yelled at him and he yelled at me then I said I hated him and he told me to get the fuck out. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence.

But something about that day. Something about it just made it so I couldn’t let it go. But then midway us arguing I decide I didn’t want to let Dakota go. That he was what I wanted and I made a mistake. But, things already went a little too far by now.

I go over to him, almost hysterically and I try to calm him down. I put my hands around his neck, but not in a way intended to inflict pain and I tried to coax him. But, failing miserably, Dakota thinks I’m about to choke me and throws me onto a lazy boy and starts choking me.

Then I start choking him and out of nowhere his dog comes out and bites me in the hip. Dakota leaves the room thinking he’s accomplished something and I go over to his dog and I smacked it. Seeing me do this set Dakota off and he throws me back into the lazy boy and smacks me in the face with excruciating force three times.

I didn’t admit or deny any abuse but I didn’t have to. She let me leave early and I went to a center in town for domestic abuse victims to discuss options I might have.

My nose bleeding and bruises quickly forming on my cheeks and eyes he snaps back and immediately regretted what he had done, mentioning how my nose was bleeding.

Crying uncontrollably, I get him to leave me alone and I spent the next few days sleeping upstairs.

I couldn’t believe the situation I had got myself into. The familiar toxicity I had experienced too many times before this. The abuse, the neglect, the lack of respect, the constant fighting. Except this was worse because I wasn’t even getting affection, admiration or love from this guy – just constant bullshit. What the fuck was I even doing there?

But, I didn’t leave right away like I probably should have. Like any normal girl would have done.

I continued to go to work and my manager walked by and saw the bruises on my face and she brought me into the office to discuss it. I was a lost in the emotions, stressed and torn over what I should do next and heartbroken because I was really starting to feel true love for Dakota before it happened. I sat in her office and just cried for a good 20 minutes.

Because of my love for Dakota and with his son and his ciminal history on my mind I couldn’t get myself to fill out the paperwork for a restraining order. I didn’t want Dakota to get into any legal trouble over our relationship issues and ruin his life. So, I left and went home.

That’s when Dakota and I sat down to talk. He didn’t want me to leave. He didn’t want to be with me, but he wanted me to stay. Ultimately it boiled down to the fact that he didn’t want to be alone. But, that was enough for me to feel needed enough to try and be just friends with him.

If I moved back to Florida at that point I’d probably be homeless or living with Nessa in some trap. I was working but I didn’t have enough for a down payment on a rental. It was cold and I had Chewie and he and his grandma practically begged me to stay so I stayed. Deep down I still thought Dakota and I would be good together that maybe we needed to do this.

And things got better, they really did. I was still on my toes all the time but I was trying to be more self aware to how I came off to him. I was opening up to him sexually, we started to do hobbies together like our fish tank and growing plants. We went places together and we had fun.

His dog Stella got pregnant and had 5 puppies. They were blue heeler and rottweiler mixes. There was only one that possessed the colors of a blue heeler and she was the most perfect little puppy the world had ever seen.

I tried not to love her. I tried to avoid bonding with her and staring at her. But, Dakota knew. He knew that I needed her bso he pressed me on keeping her. I said I’m a one dog woman and ignored him until one day I said fuck it.

Bonding with her took time. I was still hesitant and even tried to get rid of her a few times but once it finally happened she was my baby. Her name is Neptune and Dakota kept her sister Jupiter. We now had 5 dogs.

We spent a good month or two living this best friends with benefits thing. I worked at the Walmart and I took the best of care I could for Dakota. I didn’t clean all that much, but neither did he and we had spats about that but I bought him anything he wanted, supporting him financially. I also supported his bisexuality and even attended the Pride parade in St Louis with him which was another interesting night which ended up in him ditching me for being tired and not fucking or something and I spent the night crying alone in a hotel in the most ghetto part of town. But, we made up and drove back home like nothing happened.

Then it happened. I go to work one day and my manager pulls me into her office and she tells me she opened up an anonymous fundraiser for me so I could move into my own place away from my abusive boyfriend and she hands me $1,200 cash in an envelope.

$1,200 cash!

I spent the remainder of my shift trying to decide what I should do.

I could have done a load of things with that money. I could keep it and fix my teeth, move back home, stay and get my own place, or I could tell Dakota and we could decide what to do with it. So many more things I could have done and I literally thought about them all. My mind was going a mile a minute.

I decided to keep the money a secret and that I was probably going to move back home to Florida with it.

I get off work and I call Dakota and I tell him about the money. Impulsively, I allow him to now have a part into where the money went and how it’s spent. And not only that but he actually gets upset with me for getting it because now he thinks everyone thinks he’s abusive when in fact no one knows anything because it was all anonymous.

We blew the money within two weeks and the only thing I had to show for it was two pairs of glasses. I literally blew it all instead of using it to better my life in any way and I feel a bit ashamed about it because people did give me their hard earned money at hopes that I would put myself in a better situation.

I don’t know when it was but one day Dakota and I have a talk and he decides he’s ready to be with me again. I agree to let him do his bisexual thing, I agree to work on myself and try and he agrees to give me another chance.

And things aren’t so bad. But, I was having to constantly deal with him thinking I was going out of my way to piss him off but in reality I’m just a little derpy and unintentionally did or said things that set him off.

I was stuck. I felt stuck, anyways. I was slowly falling in love one day then crying alone in bed the next. I was putting my whole self into getting this relationship to work. I really was. I never cheated, I took care of him, I supported him and cared about him and his feelings. I gave him freedom and trust. And on top of that I was thinking about Chris less and less and working on my character defects to become a better partner. I gave him all that I could.

It wasn’t ever enough.

I’d lay down across from him on the couch, staring at his handsome face and admiring him for being him and he’d think I was up to something.

But, I do admit I would frequently just sit on the couch and stare off doing absolutely nothing but thinking almost all the time. I’d do it until I got so tired I’d fall asleep and it drove him nuts.

There’s something about me. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something that really sets men off. I feel like I’m being as sweet as a button but men just think I’m out to get them.

So even though our sex was on fire and most of the time we actually did get along the times we didn’t were unbearable.

The truth is, and this is just from my point of view his may be completely different but his misinterpreted view of me is what ruined our relationship. The way he always got mad at me when I wasn’t doing anything. That’s what did it.

I could have looked past everything else but our communication went in the toilet as soon as he got mad and I was going to bed with him mad, I was more than likely sleeping alone and I wasn’t getting love.

And I so desperately wanted to be loved.

Then I met Dakota. I had seen him a few times with Patrick but never really knew him. But, he messaged me and asked for a sack of weed and I had my mom pull up to his apartment to sell it to him. He was handsome in every way, unique features and a seriousness about him. It was a quick exchange but I gave him an assessment.

He started to read my book and would tell me his opinion on it. He took the time to actually get to know me and took an interest in my past. That intrigued me.

He seemed shy at first, unsure of himself around me. But, he was sweet as a button. We’d have sex, cuddle, take naps together and just bask in each other’s company. We seemed to make a good team too, like when we’d have to clean the house or go somewhere.

I started to fall for him faster then intended. I started hanging out with him in July and by the time September rolled around I was sure I wanted to invest my full time and energy into him. So after a passionate sexual encounter I summoned up the courage to ask him to be my boyfriend.

Not but a short week or two later I’d be packing my bags and moving in with him.

It was nice. He had a few roommates that we’d kick it with and vibe with and we kept up with the momentum a relationship should go in. I was starting to become extremely happy.

But, the thing is Chris JUST died. I’d think about him often and I’d start to feel a type of way the closer I got to Dakota. I felt guilty, I felt like I was betraying him. I cried every single day still and that amount of competition I made Dakota feel he had wasn’t right. He deserved to have me in my entirety and not have to compete with my love for a dead man. But, I was still greiving and I would be for a while.

As I was getting to know Dakota and try for a new love things at his apartment were starting to get hairy and things back at his home were too so Dakota decided it would be in his best interest to move back home to Missouri and he asked if I’d come along.

Without hesitation I accepted. It was right before Thanksgiving when we had decided to leave. We had a last minute Friendsgiving at his apartment then I left with my mother for a cabin out in Georgia before we left. I met up with dakota, having all 3 dogs with him in his trusty Buick Century loaded to the hilt in Lake City and we drove to my dad’s place to sleep so we could wake up super early to drive and see the ocean before leaving Florida.

We drove to St. Augustine around 4 am, we parked at a nice hotel and walked to the beach before the sun rose. The ocean waves crashed loudly at the shore. It was dark and vast. Visibility was scarce and unfortunately we left before the sun rose but I’ll always remember that night.

We drove all day the next day and got a motel in Mississippi and spent the night having amazing sex and talking about the future. The next day we drove some more and ended up getting another motel and doing the same thing. We got to his grandmother’s house in Conway, MO the night before Thanksgiving.

His family welcomed me like I was a part of the family. We roughed it between his grandma’s and his dads, who lived just up the road. It was cold, it was beautiful. The roads out there were hilly and windy and the speed limit was high. It was very rural and swcluded. Even the city of Springfield was small.

Eventually we were staying exclusively at his grandma’s house and we moved into the basement for more room and privacy. We had his son every other week but things weren’t going so hot.

But, things started to change in Dakota not long after arriving. He was starting to change. It was like I moved to Missouri with a completely different man. He saw red so often and would go off with anger and agitation. He would talk to his grandmother shamefully and he never seemed to be happy unless we were out and about doing something. He would blame his mood on his family because admittedly they were very invasive and borderline controlling in a very nonchalant and sneaky way. But, I don’t think that it should cause anyone to react the way that he did.

Some time in December I ran out of my mental health meditation. When this happens I fall into a depressive state and a state of fear, confusion, greif and disbelief of where I was and who i was with in life.

Dakota and I got into a fight about something, I honestly can’t even remember. It may have been my fault, maybe not. Doesn’t matter. It led to us screaming at one another in the stairway of the basement until I smacked him across the face because he was being disrespectful. Next thing I know I’m downstairs in the walkway by the stairs on my knees and sobbing that I missed Chris and I missed my mom and I wanted to go while experiencing an intense panic attack. Dakota holding me on the floor.

I say something that either hurt him or pissed him off and he runs back upstairs. I walk over to our living room and flip over our coffee table, stuff flying everywhere. Without a thought in my head, without reason or means I glance down and see a piece of broken porcelain from one of his ashtrays. I pick it up and just slash my arm completely open.

Realizing what I had just done and seeing the meat of my arm open up and squirting blood all over the room I come to my senses. I screamed for Dakota and he came running down.

He was fucking livid. He was pissed, irritated and halfway freaking out. But, he refused to take me to a hospital. Me sobbing on the floor and holding my arm he runs upstairs and grab some supplies and making sure I don’t bleed out he bandages me up.

I’m pretty sure i traumatized him that night. I traumatized myself and he had to witness it all. I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be alone in a dark room with a comfy bed and I wanted to pretend I wasn’t on this planet anymore. But, being somewhere where I knew no one but Dakota and his family I felt lost, like I put myself in my own prison.

Dakota put his foot down about my mental health after that day. He wanted me to take my medicine every day and he drove me to the hospital the very next day to get them. I waited too long to get my arm stitched up, though so now I bear a horrible scar on my forearm. WI now live with one of the most gnarliest scars on my arm because of it.

I got enrolled at a mental health clinic in Springfield shortly afterwards and I had a good psychiatrist that I would see who actually fixed my prescriptions and got me on something better.

It took me a while to find a job. In January I found a telemarketing job in Springfield, but I quickly replaced it with a solid job at the local Walmart in Marshfield, which is the closest “big town” to where we were living.

I was doing really well actually. But, I was only taking my medication semi-regularly and every single time I’d forget to take them a day or two Dakota and I would fight over some bullshit. Usually, it would be about how I was acting or something I said but I’d never know what he was talking about because I was still being the same old me and he’d just get so mad over nothing or something small.

It got to the point where I’d cry on a regular basis. I’d be walking on my tip toes around him and watching everything I said. Too scared to start something. Nothing worked though.

We went through so many ups and downs. He’d be sweet and we’d get along great one week and then I’d forget to take my meds and we’d fight and break up then get back together again and repeat the cycle and I’m not going to lie, it was exhausting.

Then there was the episode that changed my entire view of Dakota.

But, he wasn’t. “No, Allie.” Malinda spoke slowly, “they are taking him to the morgue.”

I was literally puffing on a joint as her words crashed violently against my eardrums. My face fell, my entire demeanor changed. I sat in shock for a small eternity. I honestly don’t even remember the rest of the phone call. Tears streamed down my cheeks – wet and hot.

My heart immediately started pounding out of my chest. The very worst thing that I could have ever imagined happened has happened. My entire world crashed down all around me…

I passed the joint to whoever took it from me and I got up and went outside, Malinda was still talking in my ear. I don’t remember how long I was on the phone with her, it could have been seconds or minutes but I wasn’t listening.

My sister’s husband and my nephew were playing outside as I leaned up against my mom’s mustang. they stopped playing once they heard my sobs.

I got off the phone and I looked at my sister and I blurted out, “he’s dead, Chris is dead”

Not really knowing what to do my sister rolled up a joint and she had me get in her van and we just drove for a while.

I had this overwhelming feeling that I wasn’t alone. Chris was there with me in that van, his spirit was with me. I didn’t know what to say at first but then I just cried and I talked about him the best way I knew how. I mentioned my love for him, I mentioned feeling his spirit and I talked about how he always said the most peaceful way to die was after doing a big fat shot of heroin and that’s what the fuck he did.

We returned to my mom’s once I was able to regain my composure good enough.

They were all there for my birthday, we were to go on a kayak trip and so I decided, for Chris, I’d go out and I’d try to have a good time because that’s what he’d want me to do.

I put the news to the side and we set off to Warner Boyce State Park and we rented two kayaks and we paddled them all the way to the ocean. The view was outstanding! Once my mom got tired we paddled back and made our way back to our tiny house.

My day would have ended alright if my mother didn’t ruin it by making snide remarks like, “ding dong the dick is dead” and more inappropriate comments.

I spent that entire night staring at photographs of him and us, crying myself to a stupor.

I spent that night with him in my dreams. I remember them vividly and woke up the next morning confused and angry. It wasn’t just some nightmare to wake up to. He was gone.

The first thing I did was call the Salisbury police department which transferred me to the county police. I asked them if they could confirm the death of my husband because I needed to hear it from someone else other than his mother.

Not only did they confirm his death but they questioned me about my whereabouts and told me there was signs of foul play, but didn’t give me any more details.

I called everyone in Wicomico county I could think of that could possibly give me answers.

I was left feeling just as clueless and distraught as I started the day.

Chris’ brother, Terry, found his body after he’d gone two days without responding to anyone. I may have been the last person he messaged.

The police reports them arriving at the scene at 1249pm. The EMT found Chris sitting and laying face down on his side, and that he was cold to the touch. The EMT pronounced Christopher deceased at approximately 1255 hours. They stated that they believed that Chris was deceased for approximately 8 hours. They had found a spoon with possible paraphernalia.

The police observed the scene and Chris was partially sitting and laying on the side of his face.

“Christopher had multiple bags of clothes on the boat, and it appeared that he had been staying in the cabinet of the boat. I took multiple photos of the scene. I observed an empty black and red bottle of ZAZA red pills on the floor of the boat. I later found a spoon in one of Christopher’s bags. The spoon did not appear to have any signs of drug residue on it. As I continue to search one of Christopher’s bags, I locate 2 bags of unknown brown powdery substances, suspected to be bath salts.
I contacted the on-call Medical Examiner and Lawrence Towles responded. Towles observed the scene and later advised that Christopher will be going to Baltimore for an autopsy. Towles report number is 23-07215. I also issued Towels a report number. Towles advised that Holloways Funeral Home was responding per his grandfather’s request. 1st sergeant Burley Kirkpatrick responded and took over the scene. He found 2 needle caps, however, no needles, and a cell phone. The funeral received Christopher’s body and transported it to Baltimore for an autopsy.

After Christophers body was removed from the scene, DFC Kirkpatrick observed a straw with possible drug paraphernalia residue. We collected all the items and transported them to the wicomico county sheriffs office and placed them in a property evidence locker.
The case has been forwarded to C.I.D. for further investigation.”

You have no idea how many times I have read the police report. How many times I’ve imagined what his body must have looked like, lifeless and keeled over on his side. I relive the nightmare every time.

The next few weeks my time was filled with uncomfortable conversations, signing away on all these documents and preparing for my trip up to Maryland to attend his funeral.

I always thought there was some sort of significance behind me being born on a Friday.

Friday born people are said to be natural peacemakers that love spending time with friends and family and they have an eye for beauty and a talent for creating it.

I was born on Friday, June 14, 1991. The events that transpired on the day I was born have gotten so jumbled up throughout the years that I won’t even bother trying to recite them.

I do know that my parents were told I was going to be a boy and that I would be named Zachary and because of that they didn’t have a name picked out for me and I had left the hospital without a name. With the help of my grandmother days after my birth they settled on naming me Alexandria Christine Taylor and in honor of my grandmother and great Uncle, I would be called Christi.

My very first memory was of a house we lived in when I was a baby. I remember being held in my mother’s arms as she opened our front door onto a screened in porch, she took the next exit and made her way into the front yard. On one side of the yard was a gravel driveway and  on the other far side was a large shaded tree with an old hound dog, Ralph lying fast asleep underneath it. Beyond the tree and the driveway seemed to drop off like we were on the top of a very steep hill.

After reciting this memory to my mother she thought it impossible I could possibly remember that place because we had only lived there when I was a small baby.

We moved around a lot and when I was 2 or 3 we were moving into our new place and while my parents were unpacking the house I thought it best to wander off. Down the road I found an adorable little old lady with a large sunhat and a basket collecting Lima beans in her garden. Probably preparing to make some of her famous Lima bean soup. I walked right up to her, not shy in the slightest and started a conversation with her and helped her pick the beans.

It wasn’t before long that my parents were running up and down the road screaming my name. Grandma Milly, which is what I ended up calling the sweet old lady, took my hand and guided me to the road towards my mother’s voice. “Is this the little girl you’re looking for?”

While living at that house I spent every moment I could with Grandma Milly while my brother and sister were in school.

Around this same time my father was quite a big pot dealer and acid and cocaine supplier.

He went into work at the local restaurant one night and spent the night training a new hire to cook and at the end of the shift he was approached by one of the waitresses asking him what he did because that man was an undercover police officer. They were trying to bust my dad for trafficking drugs.

That’s when our family of 5 packed up all our stuff the very next day and drove down to what I call my hometown of New Port Richey, Florida.

Imagine meeting this person and it’s like God had created them just for you. Like your life is now complete and you’ve met your soulmate and you start to picture life years down the road and this person makes you feel invincible. It’s like this person was created just for you and WOW it feels indescribably incredible
Then months of maybe years down the line they start making you feel like you’re doing something wrong, like your a problem. Ever so subtly. You’re not sure what you did wrong because they’re not communicating with you properly and when they do communicate they tell you if you didn’t do this I wouldn’t be upset with you
Then you, being a sweet compassionate person, take that into account and think yourself WOW maybe if I didn’t do abc then he wouldn’t be so upset with me. So then you go as far the fuck out of your way as you see possible to make this person happy compromising your own self and losing sense of who you are strictly to make your partner happy.
You can’t wrap your brain around it but this person whom you love so dearly, YOUR FUCKING SOULMATE is going out of their way to make your life miserable and left feeling inadequate and then your left feeling angry and lonely because HOW could this person who just went from loving every single thing about you now despise everything about you. The one person who broke me, who made me feel less than worthless now becomes the one person who’s capable of fixing the damage because the only person I seek any type of validation from is the one hurting me.
But, it’s not always like that. Some days he brings me gimmers and echos of the life we once lived – happily ever after.
I’m frequently told to “move on”, or “get over it” when plagued with the grief I have of losing this man I loved more than life itself. This is not only ridiculous and inappropriate, it is also impossible. I’ve been abused and endured extreme trauma through the words and hands of Chris Willey. Do I think the man that I loved never existed? No. But, I do understand that he will never be and had never been the person I wanted and needed him to be and his memory can’t be flooded with false reality either. I have to live with knowing that my abuser will never be able to take responsibility for the pain he caused me, i’ll never receive closure.
I find it hard to heal from my abuse I think mainly because I was so intensely betrayed by someone I intimately trusted and I felt defenseless against him more times than I can count that I repressed my pain but I was repeatedly triggered.
“We, in essence, have to heal and grieve from multiple doses of betrayal and the accompanying toxic shame and self-loathing and exaggerated feelings of powerlessness and hopelessness.”
I don’t trust anymore. I don’t let anyone get to close, but at the same time I’m completely open and almost emotionless when it comes to talking about certain things that have happened to me. And some things I can’t even get myself to talk about because the pain from it’s memory is too overwhelming.

I miss Chris. I miss his touch, his smell, his energy and his spirit but I don’t miss his hateful words, his anger, his hate for himself and seeing him sick. Because God knows he was sick. He was conflicted about so many things about himself that no one ever knew about. He hated himself, he hated drugs, he hated hurting me and being hurt by me. Because I did have a part to play in with the pain caused in our relationship.

Today though, today I feel better. I smile more even though I can’t stand seeing my smile in the mirror. I miss Chris but I’m moving forward in life now. I strive to become someone he would have loved more and been proud of because I still seek validation from him, even in afterlife

My mom picked me up from the front door of Acts Keystone. I had all my bags packed and I was carrying everything I owned. Luckily for me, in my possessions was a brand new disposable vape that I bought just a few hours before checking myself into detox. I was beyond ecstatic. I had written Chris a letter and sent it to his grandfather’s bike shop so that when I got out I’d be able to speak to him.

As soon as I got my new phone I was able to look up Chris on it and get ahold of him. I told him all about the spiritual change within myself, how I was absent of all cravings and that I decided what I wanted to do with my life and what steps I’d need to take in order to achieve my goals.

My intention was to inspire him and it worked. He was sleeping on his grandpa’s boat which was parked at the bike shop in Salisbury. He had just lost his job at Chipotle and his run there seemed to be coming to an end.

I kept in contact and before I knew it he was calling to tell me he had decided to check himself into a 28-30 day rehab and that I wouldn’t be hearing from him very much because he was only allowed one phone call per week. We made a plan to both carry out our treatment and in 6 months time we’d make our way back to one another.

My mom brought me back to her studio apartment where she set up a little spot for me in her Dining Room and she made the living room into her bedroom. I had just enough space for my clothes and the very few personal belongings I owned which was dwindled down to almost nothing after Chris threw it all in the ocean.

It was a cute little cottage for the two of us to share.

The very day I got out of rehab I made sure to attend my first meeting outside of an institution. I chose to attend an AA group called 4th Dimension which had a few people I knew from my running around days attend and guest speak while I was in rehab. Statistics show that the odds of maintaining sobriety skyrocket if you attend a meeting the same day so in order to increase my odds of survival I attended a meeting.

There was a specific woman around my age that frequently spoke at Acts Keystone from this meeting and I wasted no time in asking her to be my sponsor. I called her before heading to the meeting and she had already saved me a seat right in front of the stage but she drove me home after we went out to eat as a fellowship. It was a really good experience.

My first day of freedom was a start in the right direction. I was motivated, I had drive. My determination had me one step ahead of the game. I went to a meeting every single day for a while there. I wanted to do the 90 in 90!

Through my sponsor family I was referred to a job at a call center in Tarpon Springs via a temp agency called Pride Staffing. Clean Sky Energy was a call center that sold deregulated energy from renewable energy certificates to residential customers in the states that allow you to chose your own supplier. Boring stuff, truly.

That first month went by in the blink of an eye and I was killing it! I was waking up early and taking the bus to work and after work I’d get off at 19 and Main St and hit up the 6pm Survivor’s meeting, dinner then bed. I hated my job but I was starting to become happier.

One day, on my lunch break I received a phone call from Chris. We had a very serious, yet relaxed conversation about what we truly wanted out of life and I was as honest as I could have been when I told him I wasn’t sure what I wanted from him romantically anymore. At that time in my life I had no idea how Chris could fit back into the picture. I was sober, I was happy, I was planning on starting college soon, I was making friends and I really didn’t want to leave Florida.

He was so relieved. Apparently while in rehab he had met someone, she happened to be his counselor. He fell for her pretty hard, too and he wanted to explore his options with her.

I dropped at the news of him liking someone else. Someone who wasn’t me. Instantly, I wished I could take it all back. I would do anything to be with Chris, wouldn’t I?

I’d call Chris everyday from that day forward. But, he was pushing away from me. I held my head up strong because more than anything I wanted Chris to be free from the torment that our relationship was for him. I wanted him to be free to find himself and to be genuinely happy. I had to admit that I wasn’t doing that for him anymore but I was too selfish to write him out of my life.

So, as his best friend and he mine, I allowed him to tell me about his dating life. I let him get excited when he told me that he got hit on all the time and that he’s starting to date and I was so very jealous but I was also so happy for him. I could hear it in his voice he was doing better. Rehab was good for him and sober living is doing good for him, too.

I tried to let myself move on, too. I went out with friends from AA, and I even started casually dating but found myself constantly comparing my dates to Chris and no one could ever live up to those kinds of high expectations.

Over in Maryland, Chris was riding that pink cloud. He was handsome, charismatic, chivalrous and funny. People, especially the ladies, took a notice to him. His self esteem was higher than it had been in years. He landed a job at Boscov’s in the mall and started dating a girl that he worked with.

I told him I was happy for him, I told him he could tell me anything because first and foremost he will always be my best friend. I told him lies about how I was doing because I wasn’t holding up quite as well as i would have hoped for. Truth be told, I was extremely jealous, heartbroken and struggling to maintain my sobriety.

I was working the steps but I wasn’t using the numbers or reaching out to my sponsor when I should have been. Honestly, I was feeling a bit depressed and I just really missed my husband. My best friend.

I longed for the nights we’d spend talking on the phone all night. Those phone calls would give me hope, I’d dream about the day he would return back to me after realizing no one could ever compare to me. Until then, I found myself enjoying listening to the new and improved hyped up version of Chris.

This Chris, this sober and motivated and inspiring version of himself that I’ve been longing to see since realizing he was an addict all those years ago.

If Chris being this happy meant me not being his wife anymore then I’m not going to be his wife anymore. He was practically glowing through the telephone, beaming! The realization of Chris’ happiness set me up for my relapse.

I made it 110 days. I got ahold of Nessa whom at this point is completely strung out on fentanyl and meth and I have her help me get a $20 sack of meth.

The thing about meth is that it’s predictable for me. I use, hyper focus on a task, clean the whole house and maybe afterwards I’ll write or color. Using while living with my mom meant that I had to consume the drugs very sparingly so she didn’t notice a difference in my actions. I had to make sure she never found out.

But, when high on meth you don’t sleep. So I’d sit on my bed in the pitch black of night using my cellphones flashlight to color or write until the sun came up.

Another side effect of meth use is hyper sexuality so some nights I’d also be sneaking out to have sex then sneak back in.

I started a new routine. I’d use once a month, stay clean for a month and get my 30 day chip then use again and I did this until May.

In May I started dating this guy I met in detox named Jacob. I slept with him a few times then asked if he wanted to date and then after day 4 he was telling me he loved me and so I had to break up with him. The aftermath to that was he threatened to burn down my little cottage.

After Jacob happened I decided I wanted to get back on that pink cloud like Chris was. I wanted to seriously sign up for college for addiction studies in the fall. I was having long, meaningful conversations with Chris about what we wanted to do with our lives. Mine was to help trauma and substance abuse victims find healing because ultimately healing is what I want for myself and everyone else too.

Chris wanted a similar career path as mine but what he really wanted to do was create music. He had apparently already started writing raps. He was chuck full of surprises.

In order to go to school for addiction studies so that I could possibly get a job as a BHT (behavioral health technician) at a treatment center, staying in school and working my way up to a degree as a counselor I’d need to stay 100% clean.

I also needed to start practicing honesty. So I sat my mom down and admitted to her that I relapsed and needed to go back to detox and into a sober living house. So that’s what I did.

I left my job at Clean Sky Energy in Tarpon and checked myself in at BayCare. And who do I see in the assigned bed next to mine other than Caelon motherfucking Faulkner! My bunker from rehab. Turns out she recently OD’d on fentanyl at her sober living house and they brought her here instead of kicking her out.

Before I admitted myself into detox I took a bump of a 30mg oxy so I’d be able to fail for opiates and be able to receive funding to get me into a sober living program.

Upon discharge from BayCare detox, I caught an Uber to the sober living house. It was the same house that Caelon was staying at. I was put on a two week restriction but somehow managed to convince the house manager to let me and Caelon go shopping at Walmart.

I wasn’t there a week when Caelon convinced me to come with her to get some fentanyl and we left to get some a few days later and then a few days after that and not once did someone question us about where we were or where our bags from Walmart disappeared to.

On June 3rd, one of the more rainy days Caelon and I decided to walk to Fox Hollow from Ridge and 19 to cop some dope. After she got it, we both snorted a bump and then immediately lost the bag of dope so we proceeded to look for it for a good 15-20 minutes. Finally, we gave up trying to locate it and started walking towards 19.

That was the very last thing I remember I was waking up in the back of an ambulance. I had overdosed on fentanyl.

Crying, embarrassed and slightly in shock, I managed to regain my composure long enough to refuse being transported to the hospital and had them release me back onto the side of the road. Raining, they let me go and Caelon and I made for US 19 so we could catch a bus back to our sober living house.

I cried all the way to 19, my clothes were soaked through and through from the rain. We got on the bus back to sober living.

I visited my mother just a few short days later and she informed me that she had already known about my drug overdose because she received a phone call from the hospital. I forgot when I signed up for the Core Program through BayCare that I opted to have my mom called with any and all information. I guess I just didn’t expect them to call about that.

We both agreed that I was doing better with my sobriety living with her than I was in sober living. I stayed the night at her house the. I picked up the rest of my belongings the next day.

Chris and I were dabbling with the idea of getting back together. Chris had a few stipulations for me. He wanted me back but he wanted me better first and foremost. So, I was to take a bus to Salisbury and go into rehab and into sober living and once the two of us reached 6 months of sobriety then we figured we’d be ready for each other. I was elated!

In order to get me to Salisbury I decided to try one more “junkie mentality “ things. I took my mother’s tax documents and I filed for her taxes – claiming myself. I was supposed to get nearly Two Thousand dollars back. I fully intended on using that money to fun my trip to Maryland and perhaps get some new teeth.

On June 8th 2023 I would receive my very last text message from Chris. He told me to have a good meeting and texted me a picture of a tasty cake.

On June 12th 2023 my sister and her family came over to my moms to celebrate my birthday with a little kayaking trip. I fully intended to buy my ticket to Salisbury that day. My mom, sister and I were passing around a joint when I got the phone call.

Malinda called my moms phone and asked for me, which already I thought was super strange because my mom and Malinda did not talk. She was crying, and she told me Chris had gotten high and they were taking him away in an ambulance. I didn’t know what to say, I was honestly relieved for a short few seconds. Relieved to hear that Chris was alive.

But, he wasn’t. “No, Allie.” Malinda spoke slowly, “they are taking him to the morgue.”

I was literally puffing on a joint as her words crashed violently against my eardrums. My face fell, my entire demeanor changed. I sat in shock for a small eternity. I honestly don’t even remember the rest of the phone call. Tears streamed down my cheeks – wet and hot.

My heart immediately started pounding out of my chest. The very worst thing that I could have ever imagined happened has happened. My entire world crashed down all around me..

My mom picked me up almost immediately after Chris had left and we drove to my dads house 3 hours away in a small town called Crescent City. My dad had a small plot of land with a single wide trailer on it as well as the 5th wheel that my sister and her family lived in.

There was a lot going on for the two or three days that I was there. I tried my best to be as festive as I possibly could, at least for my Nephew Axle, but I just didn’t have the energy for it.

I spent most of my time catching up on sleep in the back bedroom in my sister’s RV and I ate. I ate like I hadn’t seen food in ages. Granted, the traditional meal cooked on Thanksgiving and Christmas happened to be my favorite dishes to speak of.

I sat my whole family down at one point during my stay and I apologized for my most recent fuckery when I came back from Seattle. I told them about my plans to go to detox so that they can get me into a rehab and after rehab I would be going into sober living. I told them I was finally done with my life of drug use and addiction and I was ready to heal.

Then the question they had all been waiting for me to answer: Was I going to go back to Chris? Of course, I had every intention of going back to Chris but for the sake of my family I decided to lie. I said I had no intentions to ever speak to him again. I said whatever needed to be said in order for the subject to be changed.

On the way back to Pasco County my mom stops by the BayCare Harbor in Port Richey and I get out of the car with all my bags and I rang the doorbell at the front entrance of the detox facility.

They let me right in the door and I gave my mom a hug and a kiss goodbye.

This was a huge step for me… admitting I needed help and actually going out to seek it on my own. All by myself.

I hardly remember detox. I did happen to meet two very nice gentleman while I was there – Stephen and Jacob. I gave them both my contact information for when I got out of rehab they could hit me up.

I spent 5 long days in detox. But, it was just the amount of time needed to facilitate me going to a rehab center. I was accepted at two different facilities. One was the Phoenix House in the Ocala area and the other one was called Acts Keystone which was much closer in Tarpon Springs. I chose Acts.

On December 30th of 2022 BayCare had placed me in my Uber and sent me to my very first rehabilitation center. It was a 90 day program and I had every intention of staying the entire duration of that time. Phone calls would be made once a week to one number only, computer use was prohibited and there was no smoking (or vaping) allowed.

I brought everything I owned with me and luckily for me my amazing mother had my back and bought me a small AM/FM radio, my own pillow and blanket, and I was allowed to have my gel pens.

At admission, they took my belongings and put them inside a heat treated bag that was meant to kill off bedbugs or any other germs. I met a girl in my intake who was also just arriving and her name was Caelon (Kay-Lynn). Caelon was roughly the same age as me with a fentanyl and meth addiction and she had just moved to Florida in the previous years from St. Louis MO.

We hit it off really quickly and to our surprise they decided to make us bunkies in dorm number 2. I met a lot of people while in rehab but the ones who stood out the most were Caelon, Kayla, and Allyson. Kayla and Allyson had been in treatment together for a while, having waited on a bed to open up while having to sit in a jail cell, they arrived at Acts together too.

The very first thing I found to complain about was the food. Who cares that the food was borderline uneatable but the portion sizes were for toddlers. I couldn’t order my restricted diet because if I did I’d have to eat nothing but a salad for 90 whole days and I don’t think I could have handled that.

But, men ran the kitchen so there wasn’t anything we could do about it.

I dove right into my recovery as soon as I got there. It took a minute to transition from the holiday schedule and Covid outbreak that happened before I got there but once we got back on schedule and they figured out which therapist they were going to assign me I made sure to complete the Phase A packet and start working on my step work.

The schedule for rehab looked a little like this:

730 Breakfast

800 clean

900 roll call/stretch/walk

10-12 groups

12-1 lunch

1-3 groups

4-5 free time

5-6 dinner

Doors to outside closed at dusk

615 coffee

7-8 AA/NA

As far as the curriculum was concerned, I was a rock star! Apparent not very many clients bother with doing the step work because you can’t really get a sponsor while in rehab and they don’t want to do step work without one. I was blowing through a step every week. I tried to be an overachiever and finish my Phase packets ahead of schedule but they only accept the packets every 30 days.

Caelon and Kayla got voted into the kitchen with me as a back up which quickly turned into me taking Kayla’s spot because she sucked at waking up in the morning.

A new girl came into Acts right around the same time we got voted into the kitchen. Her name is Amanda and she was an adorable southern bell.

It started off with just me and Kayla going out into the tall grass field after dinner and laying down to watch the waves in the sunset or to catch a group of deer frolicking at the base of the woods. Then, after sharing with them the magic we seemed to always share together soon it was me, Kayla, Caelon and Amanda every day after dinner just laughing, listening to music and telling each other stories of our life.

Those girls got me through rehab like they wouldn’t believe. I don’t know what I’d have done without those stress relieving magical nights sitting in the tall grass with my best friends. KEYSTONE KILLERS!

I tried my very first red meat burger while I was in rehab and I absolutely fell in love with burgers from that day forward.

There was a man at Keystone, his name was Michael or Big Mike for he was like 6’5. He practiced witchcraft and he had a very intense yet powerful outlook on recovery. He let me borrow a book that belonged to him called “The Power Of Now” which was all about living in the present moment and nothing else. But, not in the sense that you can set goals for yourself because that’s just preposterous. Living in the Now is more of a mentality than anything. It was an incredible book.

Big Mike frequently would lead the meetings for AA or NA whenever our guest speakers wouldn’t show up. He was very insightful and there was more than one occasion I sat with him to pick his brain about how he thought I could heal from my trauma.

I cried a lot in rehab. Actually, when I had first got there they had put me on a prescription for Wellbutrin and it took just about all of me not to kill myself right there. My depression got so bad that I actually handed in my razors to the BHTs. I immediately stopped taking my meds and talked to the psych doctor about switching my meds and he put me on Abilify, remeron and a low dose anti anxiety medication which ended up working much better for me.

By the time I was halfway through, I was over being there. I was able to get in contact with Chris’ mom while there and she informed me he had made it to Maryland and wanted to file for divorce. He wasn’t coming up off of his phone number for me. The entire time I was there I had this gut wrenching feeling that he may overdose while we were apart. I knew from his mom that he had made it to Baltimore and from there his grandfather bought him a ticket to Salisbury.

I knew he was with his family but I also knew that was prime opiate stomping grounds and I was worried.

My teeth started giving me a lot of trouble while in rehab so I scheduled a day to go to the dentist. At Dr. Monticello’s office I had 5 teeth pulled.

By day 50 I had enough of rehab and checked myself out.

I lay in bed tonight reflecting on the year as a whole. I started off the year desperate, scared and determined to get clean and recover. I spent the first two months fully dedicated and in rehab learning how to defend myself against my addiction. I struggled the entire year, battling with my mind over the matter and failing quite frequently. I hate to admit I still struggle with using uppers, but I’ve been free of Al downers and opiates since June 3rd.

Then June came along and I lost Chris and I lost myself for a while there too. Months went by where I was literally neck and neck with my demon and I had to figure out how to overcome. I used my loss and my grief to fuel me and motivate me to stay clean even more.

I drowned my sorrows with a multitude of sexual acts with strangers. One specific one led me to meet Dakota. I met Dakota in August and we hit it off pretty quickly. He was handsome, shy yet outgoing and just different.

He took my focus off of my grief almost instantly, it’s like I couldn’t even focus on being sad for much too long and he’d take all that pain away.

Since moving to Missouri with him in the end of November things have changed some more. That shy, handsome guy I met in August became someone new and I’m adapting to changes I never thought I’d experience.

I only hope that this next year brings me a joy I haven’t felt in years

On August 18 after sleeping outside all night on the ocean shore I took a freebie ride to the Burger King and put myself on the greyhound bus to Spring Hill. I was doing exceptionally well too.

I had cut off communication with Chris except when inquiring about how Chewie was doing and I applied to a plethora of jobs and before I knew it I landed 2 jobs! One was at a call center doing political surveys and the other was at Vapor Emporium selling smoke shop items.

I was clean, saving money and even started gaining a little weight back. I was becoming happier. I had a few one night stands while on my sabbatical, but nothing that really stood out.

I wasn’t gone but a month when Chris called me about Chewie. He did it when I was on the boat too but apparently he’d been jumping off the boat and swimming to shore, which was about a quarter mile, more frequently and this one couple who lived close by continuously found him and were threatening to take him if something didn’t change.

So we took the 6.5 hour one way trip and I was able to bring Chewie home to his momma where he belonged.

While in Islamorada Chris, barefooted and looking rough as hell asked us to drive him down the road so he could score some crack cocaine. I was happy to be getting back in that car and driving back to Spring Hill without him.

But then sometime in October Chris decided he missed me and so he started texting me and over the period of maybe just a few days I was desperate to be reunited with him.

You’d think after all we’ve put one another through that we’d both want to stay as far the fuck away from each other as we possible could but that was not the case with us. We defined the word inseparable in every way. You truly cannot help who you fall in love with and I know this because more than anything I wanted to tell Chris to go fuck himself.

By the time Chris was ready to come down I have saved a few hundred dollars. I told Michael I was leaving and he helped me buy a tent and supplies so I was prepared. It was a week before Halloween when he got there and we picked him up from the greyhound station and Michael dropped us off in the woods on County Line Rd on the Hudson side to embark on my last adventure with Chris.

We set up the tent in the perfect location, secluded from everyone. It was behind 7-11, next to my phone job and in front of a set of apartments that had water spigots for bathing and a laundry facility. Michael let me borrow his cooler and we’d fill it up with water and leave it outside of the tent to take bird baths.

Chris brought the solar panel and the two fans from the boat so as far as homeless went, we were doing it in style.

That same week I was able to get Chris a job at the call center with me and I quit my job at the smoke shop due to lack of transportation.

For our anniversary and Chris’ birthday we took our first big paycheck which was the week after the elections and we took the bus to Port Richey and got ourselves a hotel for the night. We wasted no time getting ahold of Nessa and getting some drugs from her. Chris spent the entire evening on the cusp of having a really bad overdose so I stayed away from the opiates and just smoked my meth. It was one of the better nights we had spent together because when Chris shot up heroin he was the sweetest most loving man on the earth. We made love until the sun came up.

After that fun filled day at the hotel, it made us want to get high more often. I started panhandling again and then not before long we just stopped showing up for work and decided we made more money my way then working an actual job.

We were going into town once every other week to get high. Chris and I weren’t allowed back at Nessa’s drug dealers house because we had both overdosed there the time before that. Nessa stood us up one day and we met a new drug dealer driving a Cadillac in the 7-11 parking lot on Trouble Creek and 19; his name was Rooster.

When we weren’t buying off of Rooster we were buying off the other homeless man who panhandled near our campsite. Once every other week turned into once a week then most days a week. When we weren’t using meth or getting high on fetty then we were drinking kratom like it was sweet tea.

Michael and his girlfriend, Destiny, would take Chewie for us over the weekend to give us more time to fuck off and get high.

The thing is that this time getting high wasn’t fun for me, or him. Chris especially had some really bad side effects from our meth use. He’d be awake all night in the tent sitting up on his knees staring out into the night thinking someone was out there trying to get him. The police, teenagers, hobos and hoodlums – and he was ready to fight.

His paranoia and delusions about phone hacking came back into play almost immediately. He thought tree limbs were flying drones and that the police were hiding out in the woods waiting for us to come out or hit the bubble in front of them so they’d arrest us.

I’d try and spoon him to sleep but he’d be filled with the overwhelming need to stare out into the night. I’d try to sleep or fake sleep while we listened to Joe Rogan podcasts. I tried to reassure him that the police would not hide in the woods waiting for us they’d turn their flashlights on and approach the tent with their guns drawn out, unafraid.

By the time December rolled around we were both so exhausted from keeping up with our addiction and the side effects caused by using. Exhausted from always thinking we had to watch our backs, exhausted from walking to Walmart everyday to panhandle and to 7-11 to eat.

We took our paychecks one day and took the bus to Port Richey to get another hotel and feel out for the night. We met up with Nessa for a half of fet and a teener of meth and she actually ripped me off. The fet was real but the ice she gave me was powdered sugar so I spent the entire night just watching over Chris and making sure he didn’t fall out.

We’d argue here and there but honestly things between us were better than they had been in a while. We were staying sexually active, even spicing things up a bit in the bedroom by adding additional partners in the mix.

But come December after using regularly and walking up to the Walmart on 19 and Spring Hill drive to panhandle, drinking kratom everyday and seeing no end to our pathetic lifestyle things started taking a turn for the worse and before long we were arguing about everything again.

On our wedding anniversary, December 16th, I lost it. I was so tired of watching Chris freak out all night long over every little sound, I was completely over him questioning me about phones, I was done with using drugs and arguing about every miniscule thing.

We started fighting and without comprehending what I was doing I had a full on mental breakdown. I grabbed an exacto knife and slashed my arms wide open, the flesh opened over an inch, exposing my tissue underneath. I held it up, blood dripping all over and screamed, “YOU MAKE ME DO THIS!”

“CRAZY FUCKING BITCH!” I can hear him yelling at me in my head. Cutting myself didn’t solve anything, I didn’t die and it didn’t help repair my relationship any either. In fact, every time I go to drastic lengths like I did that day things only got worse.

After that day I think Chris realized, finally, that we really couldn’t stay together and be on drugs at the same time. He was desperate in trying to find a place to take him in for detox. We spent days on end making phone calls to try and get him a ride but the only way he was able to get a ride is from a cop and he was not about to get in the back of a Pasco County Police vehicle.

One night, both of us lie awake unable to sleep due to the methamphetamine in our blood stream. I laid down and closed my eyes despite not being able to sleep and that’s when Chris decided to pick an argument with me. By the end of it he has both his hands gripped right around my neck and I pressed into him, yelling at him to do it.

Seconds went by like minutes or hours but he got off of me and fell to the ground, sobbing. He was afraid of himself, afraid of what he could have done to me. He was so lost in desperation, wanting so badly to be better and to be in love in a healthy way.

It’s like everything was hitting him all at once all over again. Zeke being born early, losing custody of Zeke, him going to jail all those times inly to discover that the mother of his children had cheated on him multiple times. He couldn’t heal, especially in a relationship with me while using drugs.

The next day he packed a small bag and he left. I spent the entire day on the phone with his mom, telling her the truth about where Chris really was because he lied to her and said he went to stay at a commune in Kentucky. I just wanted to see him get help. He never came home and I had an epiphany about my own life and addiction and I had to get myself some help.

On December 22nd of 2022 I called up my mother on the phone and I told her everything and let her know that I was officially ready to go into rehab and I wanted help. She picked me up from the woods and got me a room at Days Inn for a few days until it was time to go to my dads to celebrate Christmas.

Desperate to get high, I took my phone and texted our drug dealer, Rooster. I had him come by to exchange sex for drugs. He didn’t bring anything with him but promised he’d be back later and to just take care of him then so I did.

But, his member was a lot bigger than anything I’d ever taken before and before long he was starting to hurt me. I screamed for him to stop but he wouldn’t. I laid face down in the mattress with tears in my eyes. He got up and just left and didn’t come back.

December 23, 2022 was the last time I saw Chris in person. He hopped on the city bus on the 22nd and walked to my hotel room and spent the night with me. I told him my plans for treatment which were pretty much the same as his were just days before. I planned on going to detox and then into a rehab.

I was hoping – praying – that he would say that he’d come with me to treatment but I was not so lucky. He was fully on board with checking himself into a detox and going to rehab – WHATEVER IT TOOK, but he had always despised Florida… I can hear him saying, “Fuck Florida!”, now.

He was dead set on making his way back to Maryland to start his treatment and not to blame him but he didn’t invite me because at that point neither one of us knew exactly what we needed or wanted from each other but that didn’t mean in any way that we didn’t want to be with each other. That I didn’t want to be with him. Because I did. If ever given the choice, I’d have always chosen Chris.

We cuddled and talked, sat in silence, and held each other while tears streamed down both of our faces. It was definitely an emotional goodbye. There was no way the both of us would be able to find recovery unless we did it on our own. For whatever reason we just enabled one another too much.

So, he was to go to Maryland and seek treatment up there and I’d stay down in Florida where I had my family support system and once we achieved sobriety for at least 6 months then we were going to go back to each other. That was the plan.

He held me until I fell asleep in his arms and the following morning, in the wee hours of the day before my mom could show up, he left. We shared the very last kiss we’d ever share and without my knowledge I’d be saying goodbye to Chris for the very last time.

Chris was desperate, looking everywhere he thought he could for us to move. He called his brothers, his mom, and I put all of my faith into him and asked little to no questions – just putting all my faith into my husbands ability and I find us a nice new place to call home. We were running out of time though and the longer it took for us to move, the longer we had this tax refund money burning a hole in his pocket.

Finally, just days before we had to vacate the apartment he found a boat for sale in the little channel of water his mom was anchored in down in Key West in Islamorada for just $300. I knew we had at least 2gs from our taxes but I never paid attention to how much was spent before having to leave and still kind of have no idea what Chris did during that time.

We ended up not having enough to rent a car like I originally wanted to, nor could we fly and we didn’t have enough money for a bus ticket and still pay towards the boat when we got there. There again, we spent too much money on drugs and not enough on a manner of living.

Somehow, Chris being the lucky man that he was he was able to get some money donated to him from the church we occasionally attended and another church was amazing enough to purchase our bus tickets down to Florida. Everything eventually worked out, but I was admittedly pretty pissed off with how careless he’d been with our money.

We detoxed off of heroin and crack all the way down to Florida and then the 6+ hours it took for us to get down to the keys only to find his mom at the Burger King’s greyhound station they had in town, load up the Freebie cab they provide in Islamorada free of charge with our bags and make our way to the Post Card Inn and walk across the street to what they refer to as the Landing and load up his mom’s boat with our luggage and be taken to our new boat.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but surely it was not what I was about to get. Our boat was very small, and it was “anchored” down by the low tide and slightly tilted to one side, the propellers hurried deep in the sand below.

There was no bedding on this boat, no pillows, blankets or any real area to even sleep in. I was in red exhausted from our weeklong journey south to get here and all I wanted to do was unload and stretch out somewhere and feel comfortable.

I was not about to get what I wished for.

Malinda let us crash on her boat for a few days but the anxiety I started experiencing from lack of comfort, sense of space and any real sort of plan for the future to be seen. Chris was somehow very upbeat about the entire situation. He just would tell me everything was going to work itself out and that he was going to get a badass good paying waiter job and I’d find a good paying job and without any bills that we’d just get rich.

I don’t know if the person reading this has ever experienced withdrawal or anything like it but this specific withdrawal had me overwhelmed with anxiety. My body stiff, unsure how to get it to relax long enough for me to feel like breathing would come easy for me. I was crying from how unhappy I was and how my husband spent all our fucking money so we weren’t able to prepare and purchase what we needed to make this boat live-able.

I called my mom in Tarpon Springs a week after we arrived. I cried and cried and begged her to save me. I admitted defeat. After all the shit I’ve been through, all the bullshit living situations that Chris had me endure I had finally reached my limit. Fuck boats.

She bought me a bus ticket to Tampa and I took my suitcase and Chewie and I left. I had every intention in coming back, I assure you, I just wanted Chris to make it as close to at home as he could before me returning.

He got a job at a place called the Lorelei as a bar back and a busser while I was away. And while staying at my moms in Tarpon Springs in a tiny apartment on Orange Street I underwent a complete mental breakdown. I couldn’t move, couldn’t sit up, couldn’t lay down and I certainly couldn’t function properly without undergoing some of the most intense and excruciating anxiety that a person could have.

I think I was gone maybe a month, maybe longer but there was no way I was getting anywhere staying at my moms. I will say this though, I was sober. Not only that, but I was involved with mental health services through the FACT team in Pinellas County and I was taking my medication as directed every day which was a huge step in the right direction.

That was until I went and visited Nessa and Ryan in Hudson one day. I used meth and a little bit of fentanyl while there and convinced Chris to come and visit me for “one last ha-rah.” He flew from Miami to Tampa and took a cab all the way to Hudson from the airport.

Once he got there we did so much drugs in such a short period of time, we rented out the front room at the trap that Nessa was living out for three days and spent the duration of his time in town fucking like rabbits.

Then he went back to Islamorada and I went back to my moms until it was time to go back with him myself.

I returned to Chris on a greyhound bus only to find that the boat was not only not in better condition but in worse. The low tide caused the boat to sink even further into the mud down below so the entire boat was at an intense crooked angle. Luckily, Chris ordered a solar panel set up for the boat, some mattress toppers that we would later use as a mattress and some bedding donated from the church along with some pillows.

But, there was this animosity towards me for leaving him to stay with my mom while he struggled the month I was away. I understood where he was coming from but it was hard to make him understand why I had to do what I did for my mental health. I just did my best to catch up on the progress, especially since returning back to him immediately made all my anxiety disappear. He always seemed to make my mind and body feel more content even when he’s making my life hell.

I got a job at Theatre Of The Sea after just a week or two. Theatre of the Sea was an amusement water park and natural aquarium. It had a lot of rescued animals, turtles, gators, sea lions and dolphins amongst a few others and people could pay to go swimming, interact and even pain with the animals. Hands down one of the coolest jobs I’ve ever worked.

We were both working but the stress levels were still high. Chris seemed like he hated me for abandoning him, he still pressed me on and on about his phone and emails and.. you guessed it! We found drugs again. The lady who sold us the boat, Cammie, also sold methamphetamines.

I’d go into work in the morning, Chris had fluctuating schedules and on our way back from paddling from shore we’d stop at Cammie’s boat and grab a bag from her hoping and praying his mom didn’t notice but eventually she did catch on.

Not too long after we started using did things take a major turn for the worst. At this point, my mom was refusing to even talk to me for getting back together with Chris so I couldn’t run to her for help anymore.

One fight we had lasted longer than a week. We’d argue about phone shit, passwords, emails we locked each other out of and Facebook accounts we couldn’t get into because we were both changing each others passwords on and off for months that year. Every single day our fights got physical and every day I’d end up with a new bruise or sprained hand.

I had enough one day and used my last paycheck from Theatre of the Sea for a plane ticket to Seattle, WA to stay at my brother’s. But, I couldn’t stand to be away from Chris for too long and before I knew it, I was planning my way back to Islamorada as soon as possible. I manipulated my father into buying me a plane ticket to Tampa where I also convinced my mom to give me another chance and told her to pick me up from the airport knowing damn well I was hopping on a bus to Islamorada instead.

It took us all of one day to fall into the same fighting routine once I got there. The black eyes became more noticeable and I was having to wear makeup just to cover them up.

I remember the last good day spent in Islamorada with him was on my birthday when we went to the Post Card Inn and got some strawberry daiquiri’s and quesadillas and made sweet love. After that it was all downhill.

There was one bad fight we had where I finally lost it. I punched myself repeatedly in my forehead so bent out of shape and frustrated after getting punched and smacked by the one man I loved more than anything. I packed up my stuff and made provisions to leave with my paycheck and head down to Key West to stay at a domestic abuse shelter they had down there until I could figure out a smarter and more permanent solution.

I stayed at the domestic abuse shelter in Key West for about two weeks. My second day there they bought me a cell phone at Metro PCS and started helping me make phone calls. Much to my surprise, my mother refused to talk to me any longer than to tel me she wasn’t going to help me and so I was left with all my resources exhausted. I hit up the very last person I’d ever ask to stay with and that was my first husband, Michael.

The shelter bought me a bus ticket to Spring Hill, FL but because I hadn’t stopped my line of communication with Chris, it wasn’t before long he convinced me to get off the bus and come back to him. I passed Islamorada by the time the guilt trip for me to stay kicked in so I got off in the next town, Key Largo, walked a good few miles and got picked up from hitch hiking making my way back to the landing just in time to run into Chris.

Immediately he was upset with me for accepting a ride from someone and we conversed about it for a while before he agreed to let me come back to the boat. Of course, he didn’t tell his mom I was coming back and it didn’t take long before me being back was a problem and I was regretting coming back.

Chris had a hold on me like nothing I could ever really explain to anyone . The hope that things would someday be some sort of picture perfect life was driving me to stay but the drugs, violence and toxicity were what fueled us. We were so codependent on each other and spending any amount of time apart drive us to insanity, even though we always did better separate.

I stayed as long as I could the last time. I got myself a job at CVS and worked there for a good 3 weeks before leaving again. This go around with Chris was so out of this world I sometimes cannot believe I even went through it. He not only laid his hands on me but he threw my entire suitcase in the ocean. It was open so I was able to fish out a few items of clothing but a lot of my possessions were ruined. Photographs, my social security card, momentos, and some irreplaceable memories I held onto were gone forever.

I knew almost as soon as I got there but the thing was I needed to save up money in order to leave so I was hiding my time trying to be as civil as possible until it was time for me to get a ticket out of there. Michael and I kept in contact and though he was disappointed I went back to Chris my spot as his house was still available.

August was when I finally was able to get out of there. Chris wouldn’t even say goodbye to me. I kissed Chewie and cried, mourning my loss before I’d even gone. I got on the bus and made my way to Spring Hill, FL.