It is often said that certain people come into our lives and become dynamic forces that alter our lives in profound ways. Usually, when people tell these tales they are stories of profound love transforming their lives into idyllic tableau rivaling that of the romantic poets of yesteryear. Few tales are told about those that enter our lives and transform our existence into woe. Polar opposites of the venerating heroes and heroines professing and exhibiting profound love. Yet, it’s a story that should be told because not every lesson is distributed by angels, but some by darkness itself.
It’s a story that began when I was a very young man, perhaps fourteen years old. I was in 8th grade, shy, and prone to spend my days daydreaming of the tremendous future that awaited me. Computers were somewhat new to the scene in those days, and we still had computer classes at the school I was attending. The girls were all beginning to embody the shape of women even if their minds had not quite caught up yet. Computer class is prescient because that’s where my memories of her still project so vividly in my mind. This girl was the embodiment of everything I imagined a girl should be. She was already well ahead of her classmates in physical development, and I could see our future together even at that young age. The only problem was that I was too shy to talk to her then. Perhaps, if that had not been the case I could have avoided decades of what lay before me.
Fast-forward to the end of high-school and I couldn’t wait to get as far away from all of the people I’d seen every day for 12 years straight. I was still the same shy guy, so dating was a sporadic event that often left me feeling as if maybe I should have just stayed home. I carried the vision of that beautiful angel from computer class with me all the way until age 27 when I joined the Army. I signed up for three years and served every one, deploying once. I left the Army with a bit more confidence than when I joined, confidence that opened doors to treasure and tragedy.
I’d never forgotten her. It wasn’t long until I contacted her and we began dating. The first few months there I was the Cheshire Cat in human form. I thought I’d won the lottery; that life would finally progress into the exquisite fairy tale we were all instructed to strive for growing up. The happy home, white picket fences, the whole nine yards. I clung to the vision of that girl from computer class. That vision had morphed into someone virtuous that could never do me harm, with a godlike perfection that no one could ever really possess. She was about to provide me with the final lesson I would ever need to learn.
Our relationship became tumultuous. I began to compare the girl in front of me to the girl in my head. They didn’t resemble each other. I’m a very analytical guy and she was nearly my equal in her analytical acumen. I began to pay attention to her words and more importantly the things she did not say or do. It wasn’t long before I noticed inconsistencies in all aspects of her behavior. We fought often by then I broke up with her multiple times, and yet somehow, we always ended up back together again. During the midst of all of this she proposed to me, yes weird, but when it comes to relationships, I wasn’t very experienced. She had found a house for us to live in and just needed a down payment. I provided the down payment and then immediately after that she sparked and argument, the particulars of which escape me now. This was of course in retrospect, a way to establish distance having extracted what she wanted.
This happened over the course of five years of off and on dating. This began a cycle of exit and reentry that lasted for much of the next decade. Each time a little more substance was missing from the person she was becoming. I’m a very introspective guy so I began to replay every aspect of her behavior and my behavior to understand if maybe I am the catalyst for these events that took place. I was thinking maybe I’m the author of my destruction, not her. I wanted to carry the weight; because if I am the defective one, I’ve got a real shot at fixing the problem. I studied psychology incessantly trying to understand. I eventually determined that I wasn’t the problem that she was, or rather her pathology was the catalyst not only for my despair but for her self-immolation.
It was then that I put on my detective hat and discovered that not only did she exhibit a disturbing neurosis but also possessed a drug problem. I saw how she put on a new mask for each person she met. Her nature was entirely transactional with a sprinkling of sadism for good measure. These ever-evolving personas allowed her to extract as much value from each person in her life and then move on, leaving ambiguity in her wake. How through proxies she would keep tabs on me and indirectly sabotage every relationship I had outside of her to make me dependent of the warped dynamic of her ‘love’. She went as far as attempting to have me swatted by saying I was suicidal during a multi-year absence from her life. I’ve had flunkies sit outside my place of work and attempt to follow me home from work, courtesy of her.
The lesson of this if there are any is to never let your dreams override your reason. I’m only here today because of unusual pattern matching and investigative skills. I’ve watched this woman implode in slow motion for decades now, and had I been a lesser man I’d have been destroyed right along with her. Some people can’t be saved no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you think you love them. When your instincts tell you something is wrong listen, because instincts are just the subconscious mind that has access to vastly more information. Today, she is the snake eating its tail. Tomorrow, she’ll will have devoured all that she is.
James Borden
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