Robin’s descent part 2

Following up on Part 1.

Despite my warnings, Robin was not prepared for the culture shock of moving from Florida to northeastern Missouri (and in my opinion, this area unfortunately doesn’t feel like the Missouri I love like the central and southern parts – it’s more like Illinois and Iowa bleeding into each other with all the corn and soybean fields).

Right away, we got jobs at a local factory making plastic pipe.  It was the only job in town that paid more than minimum wage.  It was rough, but dealing with the other workers was a bit rougher.  Robin was sexually harassed by one guy (he caught her alone in the break room and asked if he could bury his bone in her backyard – she asked me what that meant before she got upset) so she reported him.  The women were rude to her because she was catching a lot of attention from the guys.  And I was treated like a big dumb idiot because I wasn’t an expert on farming or hunting.  People were just so negative about everything.  Basically, we felt like we were in grade school again, and with all the stupid rumors people kept spreading about each other, I came to this conclusion:  People who live boring, miserable lives seek to make other people miserable – that’s their only source of pleasure.

During that first year, things only got worse.  The stress of the new environment was really getting to Robin.  I kept telling her that if it was too much for her, I could arrange to have her back in Florida, but I had grown to hate living in Arcadia, FL so much before moving (same hick mentally, just more hot and humid – and more bugs), that I would stay here and tough it out.  Well, she didn’t want to leave me so she stuck around.

Then she started getting more and more paranoid of things.  One night at the factory, she stormed from one department to another, screaming that someone had pissed in our coffee.  Actually, the milk had just clabbered because it was too hot when we put it in there.  But she was convinced that someone had contaminated it.

It got worse at home.  She threw fits, accusing me of taking all of her money and blowing it on other things behind her back.  Her previous boyfriend would indeed take her money and disappear for a few days on a drug binge, which was one of many reasons she got the hell away from him.  But I wasn’t doing this.  I would show her where all the money was going – bills, clothes, taking her out when she wanted, concerts, whatever.  I could account for all of it.  And I was really offended at being compared to her loser ex like that.

She wanted to drink again, and after bugging me for days, I gave in.  She bought a bottle of Seagram’s 7 and drank it all within a few hours.  I was trying to stay out of the way until she started screaming at me, “You’re just like him!  You’re just like him!”  I had enough so I shouted back at her, “Leave me the fuck alone!  If I’m so bad, leave!”  Eventually, she ran upstairs to the spare bedroom and began to sob on the floor in the dark.  “Nobody loves me.”

I remember my father looking in at her and sighing.  “No one should be that sad.”  Me, I had no idea what to do.  She came out shortly afterward and slept it off in bed.  It was enough, though, to put my foot down again on the alcohol deal.

The hateful attitude continued, though, and there was a morning where we’d just gotten our paychecks and she said she wanted to go see her grandmother in Colorado.  I told her that we hadn’t been at work long enough to build up vacation time and it would be best to save money for it first.  So she yelled and screamed some more.

Convinced that she was always going to be like this, I finally blew my top and told her to get the fuck out of my home.  I gathered her things, took her to cash her check, and dropped her off at the local motel where she could work on getting a bus ticket to either her grandmother’s house or one of her parents in Florida.  Of course, my heart was broken during all of this but I just couldn’t take the abuse anymore.  Before leaving, I told her, “I hope you find the happiness that I couldn’t give.”

Only hours later, I received a phone call from the couple running the motel asking if I would pick up her things.  She had created such a scene after I left that they had to call the police, and they took her to Mexico, MO to be admitted in the mental hospital.  Before getting in the car, she’d asked them to call me about her things.

While in the hospital, she was diagnosed bipolar, manic depressive, paranoid schizophrenic.  At one point, her father called me and said, “Jerrod, she asked me to come get her when she’s released because you don’t want her back, but I just can’t do this.  When she was fourteen, she ran away to New Mexico and I drove all the way to get her.  All her life, I’ve had to go get her for one thing or another, and most recently to Jacksonville when she fell off that wall.  I’m getting old, Jerrod, and I just can’t keep doing this.”

I understood and agreed to bring her home again.  I was not only worried about her having somewhere to go when she got out, but I was afraid that she would end up with another guy like her ex that would just use her.  Her diagnosis got me thinking that it wasn’t really her behaving that way.  It was her sickness.

So we gave it another shot.

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4 Responses to “Robin’s descent part 2”

  1. You’re a strong man (totally not said in a gay way). Takes a lot of inner strength to stand and weather such a storm. I don’t know if I could do that. Keep it up, G.

    –Tony

  2. Thanks, bro. And I’m totally not trying to paint Robin in a bad light. It was just really, REALLY tough as her mental illness came on strong. It has a happy ending 🙂

  3. You really love her. And although mental illness gets in her way, she really loves you. Yours is a powerful love (and a powerful story).

  4. […] descent part 3 Finally, following up on Part 2, Part 1, and How Robin and I got […]

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