Chapter 7 – Monrad Mansion Month TWO – Is It A Good Place To Be? Ask the M Miester – Mr. Othello

I’m home.  I’m happy.  Second week in I got the motivation to get the boxes cleared from my back room and unpack.  Spidy helped this in giving me a dresser.  The one piece of the puzzle missing for me to complete my task.  Out went what I didn’t want, in stayed what mattered.  My big plastic bin of handwritten letters from since I was 11, my plastic bin of pictures of my children, my nasty necessary divorce files, and my plastic bin of all the books I wrote and illustrated.  And in files, all the handwriting analysis I did for the over 200 people who wanted me to.  I do have to state I am proud to have a 95% accuracy.  I should.  I spent a lot of money on that university course.

So home became home save home for one last thing.  Pictures on my walls.  My eldest son was kind enough for me to go and acquire the last of my belongings that my parents had kindly stored for the winter months in their garage.  I felt guilty for that, as my dad is very careful with his vehicles and he had to keep one of the two out through the cold and nasty Canadian winter months for me.  He was now free of that.

So up went my pictures, and I was happy.  I was finally completely “moved in”.

Then came the M Miester.  He had visited prior and one night he did in a total whiskey mode.  It was rather disturbing.  For the 6 years I had known him in our on and off relationship, he always projected signs of this Othello Syndrome.  Severe jealousy.  He had found out that I was friends with Spidy, but on this particular night things got bad.  He showed up at my door unexpectedly.  Spidy and I were watching a movie.  He came in and threatened Spidy with a fist.  I have to admit I was incredibly impressed that Spidy was calm and told him that he and I were just friends.  Spidy quickly left without any altercations.  But I had the bad deal.  I was accused all night of things I would never do.  That my friends was the first experience of this demented man.  I had 2 hours of mental abuse.

A week later, M Miester shows up again whiskeyed out and with no previous knowledge on my part.  This time, I was too afraid to invite my friend over any more, so I was alone with my pets.  I went to the door, where he was banging, and a peep hole I put into my front door showed it was him.  I said “oh it’s you”.  Then he started yelling through the door asking if there was someone with me.  At that point I chose not to open that door.  I moved to my back room and stayed quiet.  Yelling continued on the front porch.  Then I went into the kitchen to prepare a tea, and I heard what sounded like a breaking window next door.  And there was yelling that I was hiding someone in my back room.  I was afraid, for my own mental health, and for what I thought was for the neighbours.  I chose to take the high road and move back to the back room.  Minutes past then suddenly blinking lights appeared.  I went to the front to see and a knock was at my door.  It was the cops.  I kept thinking to myself “WHAT is this life of mine about??”

Apparently Spidy thought the same thing as I did, that a window was broken.  It ended up being plates I had for the Salvation Army outside that the M Miester flung across the lawn, shattering them.  M had been screaming that he believed I had a man in my house.  He was out of control.  So Spidy called the cops.  M got away with less than he should have.  Care and Control.  He had been sitting in his car, no keys in the ignition, when the officers arrived.  This system is not fair.  Cops asked if I wanted to press charges.  I can’t do that to anyone.  He spent the night in jail for his “care and control”, which means he was in a vehicle drunk, but with no keys.

I was messed up and called his daughter then I took a cab to take care of her.  She’s 14.  When he arrived home the next morning earlier than he should have been and saw me he yelled at me to get out.  So I did.  I was only there for her anyway.  She cried, so he did catch up to me and drive me home in the end.  But I was accused of calling the cops.  Over and over and over again.  I never did.  And again I kept asking “what have I done with my life?”.  Lost friends from this incident for some time.  And I then told the M Miester.  “M, you were my best friend at the beginning, then we started dating, then it became “Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater, Had a Girlfriend, couldn’t keep her, put her in a pumpkin shell, and there he didn’t keep her well”.  But he couldn’t listen.

One month later I found out he had been messing around with a married woman while trying to rekindle our relationship.  Deja Vu to my first love.  And this time, like the last, I didn’t know how to handle it.  But this one had severe jealousy, where it was okay for him but not for me.  And yet, looking back, my ex husband was the same.  I was suppose to take the betrayal for the sake of our children.  This one I was suppose to take for the sake of his daughter.  What about for the sake of me?  Not taking it?

Walls…  yet so vulnerable to love… and hope.. and then…

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