Deciding to move on

A few posts ago, I said something about still loving Jake. Even though I thought it was true, it sort of irked me to say it. I started asking myself throughout each day if I loved Jake. For instance, I'd be washing dishes and I'd think, Do I love him? Taking a shower, Do I love him now? Processing data at work, Is this love I feel?  The answer more often than not was I don't know. It is strange and rather disturbing to have spent so much energy on him in the name of love and suddenly not feel that love.

A week ago, I packed up a bag of things for Jake, like his bills and checkbooks. I included a letter. It was the standard letter that I've been sending to him while he was in jail. I talk about the weather, whine about all the crap I have to deal with because he's not doing it, and then try to add something positive so he won't get too depressed. This time I also added explanations about the condition of all his accounts that I had been handling. There have been problems with the escrow on the mortgage, so after realizing it was too complicated to explain in a letter I gave him an invitation to call me last Wednesday.

Wednesday came and I had to take a long drive, which is why I thought it would be a good day to talk to him with few interruptions. I told myself that it didn't matter if he called or not. I was just trying to help him and, really, I'd have a better day if I didn't talk to him. But I anxiously checked my cell phone to make sure I hadn't missed his call. I'm so lame. At this point, I already had it in my mind that I maybe didn't love him anymore. Should I tell him that? How can I tell him about something so big if I don't even know for sure?

He finally called when I was 5 minutes from my destination, of course. At first, we talked lightly about the mortgage. I asked if his parents were keeping him busy, so he told me about the projects he was doing. He asked me if I would come over and spend some time with him, just visiting. I told him I wasn't ready for that. To be honest, I wanted to say yes. I wanted to just relax in his company, talk, laugh.

He asked about how we are going to communicate in the future. I told him that I was assuming we would use his treatment provider as the middle-man for a while again. That's when he told me that all the letters we sent through her before he was arrested the second time were now in the District Attorney's evidence folder. I was a little thrown back by that. I felt somewhat violated. There was nothing I said that they could be interested in. I mean, when you know that a letter will be read by your therapist and his TP, you don't put a lot of personal stuff in it. But still, the idea that my words and my relationship with my husband was now part of the evidence in a felony trial . . . I feel a little dirty. Jake suggested that we talk without her - "Even if we have to mail letters back and forth" - just to avoid that happening again. I kinda agree.

The next day he called a couple times because he needed some family financial information to apply for the public defender. I tried to keep it really "down to business" because I wasn't sure I wanted to encourage these friendly talks any more.

Late one night I woke up to all the battery back-ups in the house beeping. I couldn't figure out what was happening, so I called Jake. He helped me trouble-shoot. It was nice to have his help. I could tell that he was proud to be able to help, too.

The next morning, though, I was ready to push our relationship back to letters. It's hard to explain what I was feeling, but there was sort of a war going on in my head and heart that was making me depressed. I was physically in pain and couldn't concentrate. That was last Friday and I had to work. Around lunch time, I saw that Jake had left messages on my phone. He wanted me to call his TP and tell her that we were communicating so that he wouldn't get in trouble for it. I used my lunch break to call her. She was her typical straight-forward, no bullshit self. I explained that I wasn't comfortable with our communication becoming part of evidence. She explained that the police took it with a warrant.

I said, "And that could happen again, couldn't it?"

She said, "Yes, it could happen again, as other victims come forward."

That wasn't the topic I was aiming for, but I took the invitation. "How many more victims do you think there are?"

I'm not a complete fool, I know that there are likely more victims. I also know that she is in the business of expecting these things. I just hoped that I could listen to what she had to say and decide that she was being overly pessimistic . . .

"Lots more. He has revealed them on his sex history."

I started to choke up. "What kind of victims? More high school girls?"

"Children."

Now I was downright sobbing, "When?!"

"I haven't reviewed the file recently, but I believe these were kids he babysat when he was 18 to 20 years old."

I was crying and blubbering so much that I can't remember anything else. I was mad at her for telling me that, but it empowered me to do what I had been putting off. I called Jake and let my anger fly. Sitting in my car in the parking lot at work, mascara running all over my face, I screamed at him. I listed every evil he has ever done to me and anyone else I could think of. He was panicked, flipping back and forth between defending himself and apologizing. 

I told him what his TP had told me and he replied, "They weren't children, they were like 13 or 14 years old." I couldn't even continue that line of conversation because I was so appalled that he acted like there was nothing wrong with that!

I decided to stick to me. I told him that I didn't want his love because it full of lies. He denied lying to me. I told him he didn't act with any respect toward me when he was sleeping with other women. He denied cheating on me. I screamed at him "LIAR! LIAR!"

Then I finally released the one thing that I hadn't told him before. "I read you face book messages."

He didn't understand at first.

"You know, the ones where you were inviting women over to our house for sex because your 'wife and daughter were out of town'."

"That doesn't count! Nothing ever happened!" 

"It does count! If they would have said yes and come over, then you would have slept with them. It counts." I could tell that he still wasn't sure what I was talking about. I told him that I think he is lying to himself and not really facing up to the things he's really doing wrong. This part was more heated and argumentative then I can convey, but basically he defended himself against everything. He really doesn't see all the damage he's done. He really doesn't understand how hurt I am and that he might never be able to repair the damage.

I told him that his TP thought he was a real risk for molesting his own kids if he had a chance. He vehemently defended himself on this one. I brought up a certain video that the DA had described at his sentencing last November in which a 3-year-old boy was basically being raped. This is one of the videos that Jake had downloaded and watched.

"If that is something you'd watch, then maybe it's something you'd do to your own child!"

"Or maybe I watched it because I remember being raped at that age and I was trying to figure that part of my childhood out."

"Well, maybe you're one of those people who figures it out by doing it to someone else." It was a cold thing to say, I know, but that's on my mind and I was being as open as possible for once.

It sort of sent him over the edge. He started ranting about the things he had to do for that farm hand, the things he endured as a small child (the same age as our Elise right now). He ended the rant with "I KNOW I'M A MIND FUCK! I KNOW I NEED HELP!"

I think I said something like, "I hope you'll get help. I've got to go back to work."

And I haven't talked to him since that.

Basically, that left me sure that I can't wait around for things to get better. Looking forward, I see this cycle repeating agian and again of victims coming forward, jail time, court time, lawyers, treatment, prison maybe, and then when things seem a little settled another victim comes forward. I've thought about asking Jake to just give law enforcement a list of names for all his victims so that maybe there will be an ending to this madness. But he would never do it.

So the next day when I was talking to my parents I said, "I think I've made my mind up that I'm ready to leave. Will you please look at the listings for farm houses in your area?" They tried to hide their relief that I finally FINALLY came to this conclusion.

I don't have a plan and it may take months before I can concoct one (I don't move quickly), but my heart has flipped and my mind is set. I'm leaving. I'm moving on.

So, do I love him? I still don't know! I must, since he causes me so much heartache. Or maybe I don't since it feels so good to think about leaving. I just don't know.