(Disclaimer: Some names have been changed to protect their privacy. Some information may be disturbing for some readers. Read at your discretion. 18+)
When I walked into Rosie’s apartment after he had locked me out, I didn’t want to show him that I was in pain. I didn’t want to give him any form of satisfaction in achieving his goal. Rosie’s pure intent in that moment was for me to cramp. This was my punishment for crossing him. Rosie may have gotten his wish. With that said, I wasn’t going to show it on my face. No matter how much pain I found myself in. Rosie’s ego was big enough at that time. No stroking was needed.
As I took off my jacket and winter boots, both Jean and Alyssa came out of their bedroom. They were wearing their pajamas. They both walked towards me. One of them said, “Dad locked you out”.
I was stuffing my winter coat in the closet. I responded with, “I know. Where were you guys?”
Both kids responded in unison, “McDonald’s.”
Then Jean said “I told Dad you didn’t have keys to get in. We even ate fast because we figured you were probably cold. Dad said we weren’t in a hurry. I’m sorry”.
Jean had witnessed me in pain from muscle cramps on a few occasions by that point. He was with Rosie when I had to be rescued outside once or twice. I can imagine that was not easy for him, and only added to his traumatized life thus far. Jean helped to calm me down without realizing it, with his thoughtful empathy. In my mind I thought, “what a thoughtful boy for wanting to return home quickly. I think he was genuinely concerned about me.”
I responded with “I see. It’s not your fault sweetheart. Your dad and I are having a disagreement. That’s all.”
Rosie was standing in the kitchen doing something or other , within earshot, when the kids came out to speak with me. I wasn’t interested in entertaining him.
From there, I went into Rosie’s bedroom, grabbed pajama pants, a t-shirt, a new pair of undies, and went to the bathroom. I asked if anyone needed to use it. They all said no, so I closed the door and took a nice long hot bath with candles, and some Imagine Dragons on YouTube playing in my ear.
Whilst I was in the tub the kids went to bed. Rosie came in a few minutes after he tucked them in to talk I guess. When he opened the door, I didn’t give him time to speak. I told him I would be leaving. If my memory serves me correctly, that evening was a Tuesday.
Liv had made arrangements for me to be picked up by her step-father, Bill, on Friday that same week. I didn’t know exactly at that time that Bill had to push the date to the Sunday. Rosie acknowledged my statement then turned, muttered something, and then closed the door. Later that evening Rosie stayed in his room. I slept on a God awful futon. Beside a puppy who was training within a confined space with pee pads.
The dog’s name was Duke II. Rosie bought that dog for the kids after I moved in, in 2021. Rosie had me bring the original Duke with me from New Brunswick in 2020 for two possible reasons. He forgot his busy lifestyle, or, he knew he could take advantage of my kindness. In other words, he was willing to risk it for the biscuit. Betting that I would do all the work. He was correct.
Duke I, was two months old when I came to help out in 2020. Rosie wanted to surprise his son because his sister had a puppy with her at her mom’s. I didn’t even really like Duke that much. I bought him off of a co-worker at an elementary school I had been working for at the time. I brought him with me on the long drive to Montreal from Fredericton. During the brutal January cold Canadian winter. It was a good healthy nine hour drive or so. Depending on traffic and the condition of my legs. I had to stop a few times to rub my shins and calves to get muscle cramps out. Good times.
Rosie didn’t pay a cent for that dog. I paid for Duke and his vaccines. Rosie didn’t pay me back either. Even though he was the one who wanted the dog and said he would give me some money. My goodness I was a whipped people pleaser back then.
Rosie got rid of Duke I, after I left, and before the end of Rosie’s training on the base in Gagetown, New Brunswick. Rosie’s training was scheduled to end in April that same year. Rosie thought it was a good thing for his kids to have a dog. I secretly knew he wanted the dog so that his ex wouldn’t be able to manipulate his daughter by pulling at her heart strings over the puppy at her mother’s house.
Gemma would give messages to Alyssa such as, “Alyssa stay here with me. I have Lucy. She misses you when you are not home.”
Gemma mastered the art of manipulation. I also wondered if Duke was a way to create a form of competition as well. Both Rosie and his ex were highly competitive.
Whilst Rosie and Gemma were competing over the elusive parent of the year trophy, along with Rosie competing for the world record for the most affairs one person can have in a month, I had to do all the training and care for Duke. I was the one who walked him every two hours so he could do his business outside, including through the night. I trained Duke to walk beside me rather than pull. I had also been working with him to not bark when he could hear people in the stairwell. I did all this with a messed up leg and severe muscle spasms as well. Rosie’s mind never fully registered how much effort went into training and raising a dog.
When I asked Rosie what had happened to Duke shortly after moving in, in July, 2021, he said he gave Duke to a family who had more time to take care of him. Makes sense really. The kids hardly paid attention to any of the three dogs we ended up housing during my stay with Rosie. Rosie was also too busy making new friends of his own on his shady side of life. He didn’t have time for a furry friend. I thought about all of this whilst I painstakingly waited for Bill to rescue me.
The following few days of my 2023 departure were pretty much the same as usual. During the day, Rosie was out and about. He was either at one of his several medical appointments, or on base, or God knows where. At night he slept cozy in his bed. Whilst I was left to sleep on a futon, beside an unhoused trained puppy. Basically, I was in the doghouse. Rosie secretly relished in the fact that he put me in the proverbial doghouse more than once.
During the day, and as per usual, I was left to my own devices. Jean and Alyssa were at school. I had the place to myself. My mind kept racing about all sorts of experiences with Rosie. On the third afternoon, after my expected three days of contemplative silence, and before leaving, Rosie was looking at the vision board I made with the kids. It was on the wall almost directly across from the front entrance, and right beside a window. On that vision board was a wedding ring. I tore it off when I was home alone.
I was home, I would say, about eighty-five percent of the time. Throughout the entire time Rosie and I shared our journey together. I didn’t realize at the time that I was a single woman inside of a relationship. Spirit may have been showing me. I wasn’t picking up what they were laying down. Lesson learned today.
Rosie noticed the picture of the ring missing. He gestured towards it and looked at me. I said “What?”. I knew what he was getting at. I just didn’t want to entertain his mind games. My mind was already fragile at that point.
Rosie replied with “it’s gone”. As in the little magazine picture of the gold intertwined wedding bands was missing.
I said, in a matter of fact way, “I took it off. I have no interest in getting married to anyone anytime soon.”
Rosie walked away and shrugged. There really wasn’t much he could say. I found it appalling that he would have the nerve to talk about a wishful thinking picture about a never to be wedding. Right after we fought about his infidelity. That’s messed up.
That conversation triggered another memory locked within me. I dreamt of going away to a tropical paradise for a honeymoon. I didn’t go on a real honeymoon with either of my two ex husbands. I would fantasize being on a white sandy beach with a pina calada in hand, and my gorgeous, loving, intelligent, quick witted, specimen of a husband beside me.
The trigger was the picture of a palm tree in the collage. It brought me back to when I found out about Rosie paying and planning a seven day all-inclusive romantic getaway to Mexico with Gemma, his supposed ex and baby mama. He went on this planned pre-honeymoon trip with Gemma, whilst I was fighting thoughts of suicide, and planning my escape from this world. The day I found out about the trip is a day I will never forget.
It was Rosie’s birthday, September, 2017. It was the day after the night of drunken terror. Rosie booked a room in a motel on the top of the hill in Fredericton. Finally, a different motel than that sleezy one on the side of the highway. It was nice. Nothing too fancy. What I liked about it was the room. It was cleaner with a king sized bed, a table, mini fridge, and some other typical items you would find in a four star motel. I brought a small bag with me. Not a plastic grocery store bag like the last time. It was one of my own purses that was big enough to hold a fresh change of clothes and some toiletries. Call me Mary Poppins.
I wasn’t expecting to have sex with him. I started a period. Not that that mattered most of the time. We had anal sex more often than anything else. Which was probably his inspiration for whistling at me like a dog during his drunken, road rage, stupor. Rosie introduced me to anal sex. I told him that he was the only one I felt comfortable enough with behind me. I told him briefly about the necklace man when I was nine years old. I was telling him the truth. Someone grabbing me from behind can be triggering at times. Understandably so.
At first, sex wasn’t so great with Rosie, or any man for that matter, if I was brutally honest. I could fake it till you make it just like anyone can. Today, I prefer anal over vaginal because it usually hurts when a penis is inside my vagina, and my vagina also looks weird. It’s a rather difficult sexual trauma to move through. Some healing takes a lifetime to complete and can require love from another soul.
Rosie got out the vodka and lemonade. He made us both a drink within about ten minutes of arriving at the motel. We always had a drink in hand anytime we shared a room at a little hideaway somewhere. Looking back, I wonder if he saw me as the closing girl when the bar announced the last call for drinks? I know my subconscious certainly received that message that way. I didn’t realize that then. I do recognize it now. It fed the little girl looking in the mirror. Critiquing all her ugly stretch marks, the arrival of glistening silvers in her hair, the new menopausal facial hair, as well as the bags under her eyes. Today, I admire the beautiful woman I see in the mirror. New daily skin finds and all. I am truly my own best friend.
Rosie and I played dominos on the little circular table the hotel provided in the room that night. We played that game often together when we weren’t having sex or needing to put out fires. Rosie was more competitive than I was. He also made me keep score most times. I secretly kept a thick pad of all our scores over the years. It was in my memory chest for the longest time. I didn’t throw them away right away. I kept that notepad, along with Rosie junior, a bear he loved bombed me with. I kept those until after I left him in 2023.
Rosie had no idea that I kept the scores all that time. I can be a wee bit over the top sentimental at times. I am also private about that, and proud of my soft heart. I naturally cry when I see people succeed. Seeing someone’s dream come true is music for my soul. That won’t change about me. I’ve been a sentimental cryer for most, if not all of my life. I’m good with it.
Whilst we were playing dominos that night, we were quickly getting drunk. I was becoming more relaxed and his sexy ass was becoming more appealing. We ultimately had sex. Laying there in bed afterwards, I started thinking again. I had a thought that was playing in the back of my mind the entire night. I wasn’t talking about it because I didn’t want to accuse, nor speak out of turn, by bringing up the topic. The night before was brutal enough. I was mostly concerned with what his response would have been.
If I was brutally honest, I knew what Rosie’s response was going to be. I wasn’t ready to feel more pain just yet. I wanted to have a fun, leave the drama outside, kind of night. It was also his birthday. I didn’t want to piss him off. I wanted him to have a nice night. As per usual, I was putting myself last. My undying need to know outweighed his comfort level towards the end of that horrific night though. I decided to ask him.
When we were separated, and before I met Joel in person, a picture of Rosie and Gemma was circulating on the internet. I don’t really remember how it came across my screen. Nonetheless, it did. The beautiful universe was at play it seems. I asked Rosie about that picture and showed it to him on my phone. His light-heartedness changed to soft seriousness rather quickly. I think he was a bit stunned when I showed him the picture.
“When and where was this taken?”, I asked with a soft and serious tone.
It was a picture of him with his arm around Gemma’s waist. They were standing under a palm tree. Rosie wore a snazzy blue and white beach shirt, long black shorts to his knees, and brown sandals. Gemma was wearing a bathing suit with a white mesh skirt around her waist, and no shoes. They were standing on a white sandy beach staring into the camera, smiling. I can see that picture inside my mind vividly to this day.
I was sitting beside Rosie on the hotel bed when I asked him that question. He was laying down. Rosie sat up, pulled me on top of him to straddle him like you would a horse, looked me in the eyes and said, “I have something to tell you”.
The first thought in my head was that he went away with Gemma whilst I was alone. I was reeling over him breaking up with me at the highway motel when he was on a gorgeous white sand beach. Soaking in the stunning tropical sun and waves. My intuition tells me today that the trip was already booked when we slept together right before my walk of shame.
I suspect Rosie and Gemma were scheduled to fly out on the following monday. It makes sense as to the timing of the car speaker incident when I professed my psychological pain. My intuition is bloody strong let me tell ya. Call me Sherlock.
“Gemma and I went away when we weren’t talking over the past few weeks”. Rosie explained with trepidation.
“Are you fucking serious! Where did you go?” was all I could think to ask next.
“To Mexico” was his reply.
“When did you go? How long did you go for?” I prodded him for details.
Rosie’s response was “you don’t need to know the details. Other than we didn’t get along most of the time. You’re only hurting yourself by asking questions when you know the answers would hurt you”.
I lost it. “You mean to tell me you berated me about being with Joel and here you are on a romantic getaway with her. I’m going to be sick”.
I quickly got my underwear only wearing ass off of him, grabbed my clothes, and headed straight for the bathroom. Whilst I was in the bathroom Rosie fell silent. This was of course after he pleaded with me by insisting the holiday wasn’t a romantic one.
According to Rosie, Gemma needed a break from the kids. She pressured him into going. Supposedly he had a horrible time with her. She was miserable and they fought most of the time there. Like I was going to believe all that after all the other shit that he pulled. That guy could lie to the virgin Mary if he felt he had to. Just so he could hide his true nature from his highly fought for reputation. He was a God fearing man too. Supposedly.
Whilst I was in the bathroom, something else came to my horror. While Rosie and I were having sex, the tampon I was using lodged so deep within me, I couldn’t grab the string to pull it out. I would normally press the string against me during the humpty dumpty. With that said, I was drunk, so who knows what actually happened in that moment. I needed help and Rosie was the only one who could do it. I called him into the bathroom hysterical. “Rosie, I need your help!”.
Rosie thought I was having another muscle cramps attack. When he came into the bathroom, I was seated on the toilet with my panties down to my ankles. “It’s stuck. I can’t get it out”.
“What’s stuck?”, he asked.
“My tampon. You must have knocked it up there. Get it out! Please! I can get septic shock from one of these things”.
Rosie got down on his knees, in between my legs, and respectfully got it out. Whilst I sat on the toilet, completely humiliated. Rosie didn’t make me feel embarrassed whilst he was softly asking me to calm down and talk things through with him.
I think Rosie wanted to stay calm so that I wouldn’t stay angry with him. I on the other hand couldn’t of felt any smaller than I did in that moment. After that ordeal, I got myself dressed, grabbed my bag, then went out the door. I didn’t say a word to Rosie when he was standing there only in his boxers and tank top. I had already retreated within myself at that point. I was in no shape to have a one-sided, respectable, and empathetic conversation. In other words, my empathetic scared little ego didn’t feel like talking to myself through him.
Rosie unfortunately struggled terribly with empathy. It was one of our biggest and long standing disagreements between us over the years. My empathy and his lack of it. There was no way I was staying with him a minute longer.
Rosie came running after me. “Don’t go! Let me explain!”.
Hell no was all I was thinking. I ignored him and kept speed walking as fast as my crippled, drunken, long legs, would let me. He moved faster. After a few more times of him yelling “stop!”, I swiftly turned around, extended my hand straight out and yelled “leave me the fuck alone!”.
By then I was at a set of traffic lights. They were in my favor. I walked across the semi deserted four lane road. Rosie turned around and went back inside the motel.
I had every intention of walking the several blocks back to my tiny little apartment with Liv. I was cold, embarrassed, distraught, and once again fighting leg cramp, when Rosie appeared beside me driving on the road. He wound down his passenger side window and pleaded with me to stop walking and to get into his car. I wasn’t having it.
Then the cramp got worse. I crossed to the other side of the street at the next intersection to get away from Rosie. Rosie made a quick turn, drove back up the hill on the same side as me, and pulled into the parking lot I had decided to cut through. He parked his car, got out, and gently said, “Clair, please talk to me. It’s not what you think. I can’t make it work with her. You know what she is like. You have it all wrong. At least come back to the hotel so that you can get warm. You could always leave first thing in the morning.”
Rosie would have said anything to calm me down and to take me back to the hotel. I didn’t believe him. He still stands by these lies about his romantic getaway to this day.
“I had to. It’s not because I wanted to, nor was it romantic”.
My intuition knows otherwise. I wasn’t thinking too deeply about his lies at that time though. All I knew in that moment was I was drunk, cold, it was once again well past midnight, and I was cramping. Again, reluctantly, I went back to the hotel with Rosie.
I didn’t say two words to Rosie the rest of the night. The next morning I got up, brushed my teeth, put my long mixed brown and blonde hair up in a messy ponytail, and promptly left. This time Rosie did ask me if I wanted a ride home. I said no and then proceeded to walk to the bus stop. I didn’t see him nor speak with him for three days after that.
I have a ritual of taking three days of silence to process difficult experiences in my mind. It has always been a solo mission for me, and my way to stay connected to the divine. I revisit the issue with the person I am upset with if it is beneficial. After I process as much information as I can. I honor these three days of reflection to this day.
Fast forward to 2023.
I was sitting there in his office chair, thinking about that painful night six years earlier. Thinking about how I came to know the truth about Rosie’s romantic holiday was torment. I was so damagingly in love with Rosie. The emotional pain and mental turmoil I held inside for most of my years with him was unbearable, and yet, I kept going back to him.
On the night of the illuminated tropical getaway, I thought, “Not this time! I won’t have anything to do with him ever again!”.
I was wrong. I didn’t realize back then how much trauma and pain I was holding from all the years with abusive men. I also hadn’t identified the subconscious conditioning I had received from my parents, through witnessing their toxic relationship. I had little awareness when it came to love from another human being. I am still not all that familiar to be fair.
Rosie was no different to any of them who stole my innocence. I just didn’t fully want to admit it. I wasn’t ready to. I also wasn’t ready to have Rosie completely gone from my life either. I was emotional and needy. I did go back with Rosie a few days after learning of his trip to Mexico. I silently bore the emotional and mental anguish for years.
Rosie came unannounced to my apartment after the horrific fight with a tampon. He carried a stuffed bear. Rosie smothered the bear with my favorite cologne that he wore at the time and then gave it to me. The cologne was called Prada, I think?
I named the bear Rosie junior. I slept with that bear every night we were separated from 2017 to 2023. I even brought it on my travels to and from Rosie’s over the several years. He used this bear to profusely apologize and tell me how much I meant to him. The bear was a manipulative way to get my sensory perception into a fond nostalgic state of awareness. In other words, Rosie wanted me to long for him through the smell of the bear.
Rosie was relentless. Not only do Canadian soldiers learn how to handle bombs in the military. The training also teaches some soldiers, namely Rosie, how to use that training to Hiroshima love bomb the hell out of unsuspecting women.
Next thing I knew it was 2023. I was sitting on Rosie’s chair in Quebec, with Rosie junior sitting somewhere in Rosie’s bedroom. Reminiscing about one of the more painful times in our journey together. Once again, I found myself crying. Whilst making plans to leave him with a stuffed bear in tow. Toxic cycle complete, check. Does it roll around again? Yep.
It’s amazing how we live in the past, present, and future in our minds all at the exact same time. Oftentimes without even realizing it. Past, present, and future are ingredients for you to have the “I am” experience. They are poured into the same cooking pot at the exact same time when you start your earthly experience. That’s one of the reasons for time being an illusion. I was living in each year Rosie had left me or hurt me all at the same time, inside my mind.
The next day I had a difficult time talking with Rosie’s daughter, Alyssa. She was doing her soft, somewhat manipulative best to get the details of mine and her dad’s disagreement.
“Are you mad cause I told you Wendy was Dad’s girlfriend when we first moved to Montreal? Was it me who told you?, or did you already know he had a girlfriend?”.
I told Alyssa the truth to the best of my ability. I said “oh no sweetheart. It wasn’t you at all. I already knew about Wendy.”
Alyssa said “okay”. Then slowly walked away.
Alyssa didn’t know what Rosie and I were fighting about. Alyssa also didn’t know how long I had known her father. Rosie and I started dating when Alyssa was only a little over a year old. She used her own intuition, plus logical deduction, to formulate a rather accurate hypothesis. She was a smart, insightful cookie.
Alyssa did let it slip about Wendy innocently enough. How was she to know her dad was being unfaithful? I also did already know before she accidentally, and innocently spilled the beans. All Alyssa did was act as a conduit for spirit to reaffirm what I had already known for myself.
Spirit has always had my back, front, and sides. They still do. Spirit used Alyssa’s voice to confirm Rosie’s infidelity with Wendy. Up until then, my suspicion and intuitive guidance had to be kept to myself until I had enough evidence to draw a factual conclusion. Alyssa’s voice became my salvation from mental torment. She did me a solid.
I didn’t tell Alyssa I was planning to leave. I didn’t tell Jean either. I stayed quiet about what the fight was about for the entire five days I was with them. They didn’t need to know about the condoms. I followed Rosie’s wishes when it came to informing the kids. He decided it best I didn’t tell them I was leaving. Rosie wanted me to leave in silence so, I did.
After the five days of intense stress, discomfort, and a little back and forth of slight effort apologies on Rosie’s part, it was the day to leave. Rosie isn’t someone who authentically apologizes. He didn’t know how to. I can’t remember the exact day in April of 2023 that I left. I do remember being extremely anxious and lost in my head when waiting for Bill to arrive.
Rosie texted me to ask me a question. “When are you leaving?”
Rosie was with his kids in Montreal. Even on the weekend of me leaving, Rosie still decided to go to his mom’s with his kids. He may of had some sexy time with someone else during that same time too for all I know. Rosie was having an affair with someone named Isabel by then. I know that. At this point it wouldn’t have surprised me.
I told Rosie I was leaving a couple of hours later than I was actually scheduled to leave. He said “we will be home before you leave”, as in him and his kids.
I said “please don’t”. Rosie didn’t respond. Now I was the one pacing back and forth.
I packed all of my things that had any resemblance of importance to me, and had placed them at the front door of the apartment. I was ready to leave in an instant. Bill showed up about two hours after Rosie had texted asking when I was leaving. Rosie was on his forty-five minute drive back to his apartment with the kids when Bill had shown up. He texted to let me know.
Was Rosie’s “friendly” notification innocent intent to get me to wait, so that we could talk things out? or, was it his way of setting me up so that he could tell the kids after I left, something along the lines of, “I even texted her to wait for us, and she still decided to leave without saying goodbye”?
I knew there was more to Rosie’s hidden agenda at that time. Rosie’s intelligence, coupled with his ego impulsiveness, scared the shit out of me. Not because Rosie would physically hurt me with his hands. He only did that when we were having sex. It was more my awareness of the way Rosie could manipulate my mind. Psychological warfare was more Rosie’s cup of tea.
There was no time to waste. I brought all of my stuff downstairs whilst Bill loaded up his Honda Civic. We were out of there in probably less than twenty minutes. I escaped not having to see Rosie. I was anxious of what he might do or say to me, or Bill for that matter. Especially in front of the kids.
I left peacefully and quietly. Just as Rosie wanted. It tore me apart not to give the kids a hug, tell them I would always love them, and say goodbye. The last time I saw them was the friday beforehand after school. It wasn’t for long either. They usually left for Montreal with Rosie within the hour of arriving home from school each weekend.
I may have escaped Rosie. With that said, the long drive back to New Brunswick with my ex husband was interesting and tiring to say the least.
Oh what a life I have led.
LivWithClairity 
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