Tail Between My Legs

I am an animal lover. When i hear the term or phrase “Running away with its tail between it’s legs.” I think of a scared or defeated animal. Probably hurt weather it was mental or physical. That is exactly what happened between me and my dad and why i put my tail between my legs and ran back to my abuser.

Where we left off last time (In my time line of mis-fortune in relationships.) I had left in the middle of the night to fly back to my boyfriend who i had every intention of leaving. Being there was a significant age difference it was difficult for me to communicate effectively with him. Often at times it felt as if i were communicating to my father… not in a good way. It was hard to relate to him at times and we disagreed a lot. I thought I knew Paul and understood him. He was honestly a stranger. I couldn’t have known less about him. I didn’t want to take anymore mental abuse from the environment with my parents, as a result I ran back to the stranger who hurt me in other ways.

Let me just say… I am TERRIFIED of planes. I don’t get on them unless it is crucial to my existence. (In this instance it was because i believed I had no where else to go.) Between being up all night before hand trying to decide weather to go back to Paul or not, being extremely emotionally spent from the fight with my dad, terrified of getting on a plane alone and going from one abuser to another, was not a good combination on my body. I hadn’t eaten in almost 48 hours either. By the time i got off the plane i was just happy to see the ground. Paul was there to pick me up and he drove me “home.”

I wasn’t feeling well and i remember unpacking and wanting to cry. The next day we went  to see his brother, Jason, which was a 35 minute drive. Paul lectured me the entire way there despite how sick I felt. I specifically remember that drive because a trooper pulled us over and Paul talked his way out of a fucking speeding ticket. I digress, we stayed there all day and left Jason’s after I had fallen asleep on the couch from Jet lag and being sick.

Paul had his tonsils taken out when he was extremely young so he never experienced strep throat or laryngitis or anything that affects the tonsils and makes you fucking miserable. He didn’t believe i was sick and told me to sleep it off despite the fact that i begged him to let me go to the doctor. He threatened me saying he would kick me out. I asked him to drive me and I would give him the money from my next paycheck and he said it would be a waste.

I went three days without taking any medicine and feeling like shit. On the third night Scarlet Fever had taken over and I began to hallucinate, I was talking nonsense, yet i don’t remember any of it. Paul said my body was hot and I wouldn’t stop sweating. He drug me to the balcony to get some fresh air. It was 40 something degrees outside so I began to seize from the temperature change. Paul had to carry me inside and finally called his mom and asked if he should call 911. I did not break my fever that night. The next morning I woke up unable to speak and Paul drove me to a care now facility.

I had developed scarlet fever from having untreated strep throat, and had pneumonia. I cried in the doctors office while away from Paul. I wanted to ask the Doctor for help… not just medically. I was unable to communicate seeing as I lost my voice so even if i did have the courage i wouldn’t have been able to. I was prescribed a bunch of medicine and they sent me home. Paul apologized profusely and told me he was afraid for my life. He was mad and said he hated me for scaring him like that. I felt distant from him after that. As an apology to me he went and adopted a kitten who i named Pumpkin. Pumpkin kept me company while Paul went out looking for a job since he had become unemployed.

When my mom called and I talked to her she cried and said she wanted to get away from my father and she hated him for driving me away. She begged me to come home. I told her about being sick and that Paul hadn’t taken me to the doctor and she cried while i reassured her everything was okay.

What was to come later that week I would have never expected would happen to me. I had experienced violence from Paul but not like this.

6 thoughts on “Tail Between My Legs

      • Yeah it helps. I haven’t touched on my eating disorder a lot. I’m sure it will follow. My previous relationships, being abused and sexually assaulted… It helps me recognize that. I don’t see myself as a victim but I was absolutely repressing what I experienced. It allows me to reflect and flush out what I bottle up inside. It can be very therapeutic and sometimes it helps me to cry. I don’t usually cry. Not unless I’m mad about something.

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