Heart Break Is Chemical Warfare

Heartbreak IS Chemical Warfare

 

If you think heartbreak is simply sadness, a heavy chest, or a tear-stained pillow, congratulations you’ve probably never had your heart broken before. Not like this, not of this magnitude.

Heartbreak is a war on your body. It’s dopamine withdrawal. It’s oxytocin starvation. It’s cortisol spikes that feel like a heart attack. And when you live with bipolar, ADHD, anxiety, and autism, it’s not just heartbreak.

It’s survival mode.

When I say he did me dirty, I don’t just mean emotionally. I mean chemically. Biologically. He played with the levers in my brain until my nervous system couldn’t tell love from war.

And now, here I am, raw, angry, surviving! Telling the story, because silence is no longer an  option for me.

I’ve learned the hard way, that heartbreak is not just emotional; it’s goddamn chemical warfare. The damage doesn’t just live in my mind, it manifests itself in my body. Rewiring my brain causing unimaginable wreckage, because at the end of every day since that day;

 

“I would still choose you through it all, that’s the crazy part…”

                                                                                    ~Kehlani- Unfolded

 

Even though that man hurt me, my body still craves him. A goddamned Trauma Bond!

It’s a sick joke your brain plays where the very person who hurt you, you’re addicted to. The replay, of every word, every kiss, every touch is a small dose of hope. A hope for that tiny hit of dopamine you lost.

It never comes.

So you sit there, waiting, craving that poison. Angry with yourself for even wanting it in the first place knowing it wont do anything in the long run.

I know what you’re thinking, bitch…

It was just a year.

But was it?

You tell me:

November 3^rd 2023. That’s where it all started. Kind of. It started a few weeks, and a few months earlier but for the purpose of this, (I don’t even know what this is and we’re on day four) that's a story for another day. 

Anyways…

In the beginning, everything is a discovery.

You're clinging to every single detail; how they take their coffee, the songs they play a little too loud, or the childhood stories they choose to tell you. Every word, a clue, every moment, a puzzle. You say to yourself, if you just learn a tad bit more about them, you’ll be safe, secure. 

He felt like home, when I had none.

I remember the first time I lay eyes on him. I mean really. The first time his lips touched mine in that hotel room. The first time I felt him between my legs, I remember, my body remembers, my wife's body remembers, so does his. 

The body always remembers, even when the mind forgets.

 

My arrival at Walmart was met with a wave, and a gentle smile. His.

I don’t think I’d ever seen him smile.

“Hey,” he says, his hand was empty.

“Hey,” I said back, “long time no see.”

“Yea, I heard you were coming back.” I nod.

Smile, wave and nod.

For the first few weeks that’s how it went. Very small talk, mostly smiles, a lot of nodding. He was so cute.

It wasn’t until I was accidentally thrown in the staging area that I even interacted with Miguel. But from that moment he and I became inseperable.

To be clear when I say inseperable in the beginning I mean there seemed to be this gravitational pull that kept us within feet of eachother at all time while at work. From the second we walked through the produce doors it was me and him in the backroom while everyone else dispensed or picked.

The dream team. He would say that because he “trained me” was the reason we worked so well together but let’s be real. That’s his ego talking. I was the batter to the backroom without me there was no cake.

He showed me the screen.

My work ethic alone carried that backroom, my aura kept him wanting to be a part of the program. That man hated to stage while I thrived in it. He wanted to be next to me. That man loved being next to me, and I wasn't even really doing much. Just listening. 

From that point forward, that’s where we were, so naturally we started to talk. Well he did. I’m more of a listener. Plus I was emotionally shut down after going through what I was going through with my wife so all I had to give him was a listening ear.

That man told me everything none of which I will share but when I tell you the more he spoke the more I just wanted to hug this man. With our clothes on.

Life hasn’t been kind to him by any means so I understand why he is the way that he is. His story, like mine is raw, it’s gut-wrenching and often times made me want to cry.

These are the moments he left me with to pick a part because, now when I look back on the way he tugged at my heart strings, was that all a ploy? He pulled me into his mind just enough to... to what?

Love-Bombing?

Is that what made it so easy to open up my heart the same way I opened that door of the run-down motel. 

The cruelest part aside from all the memories, is knowing, they’re now just memories. Painful memories that will never disappear. They will forever linger, forever mock me, leaving me wondering if any of it was ever real, or an act.

Did I imagine every kiss he planted on my body, from my lips to my naval? Did I imagine the warmth of his tongue between my thighs or his absolute pleasure from my release?

I think the fuck not.

In the beginning that man for damn sure wasn’t playing.

Did he have a point to prove? Maybe. I don’t know, but I am certain that the seven months it took to get in my and my wife's pants wasn't to fulfill some mid-life crisis.

I’m not saying he had to jump through hoops, but let's be for real.

I was convinced for the better part of how many years this man was married. He wasn't. Once it was solidified that he was 100% single, I made it clear to my wife my intentions, when I got the go ahead, I still had to be sure I wasn’t giving it all up again in vain. 

I did everything I had to do while upholding the sanctity of my marriage and trust me it wasn’t easy.

When I say I never really saw Miguel, I meant it, because I thought he was married, I gave him and her flowers and went about my business.

Now it was an entirely different story.

At first look, he’s tall, bald, nice smile, glasses. Nothing Special right?

Wrong.

Now aint nobody gasing him up, but you know how superman puts on those dumbass glasses and boom all of a sudden nobody know that nigga Clark Kent? Yea, I never got that shit either but listen linda…

Remove the glasses and the shirt and great fucking googily moogily. This mans ARMS…

When I first saw them I was floored and I know what you’re thinking, his arms?

Baybay.

All the girlies agreed trust, the first time I caught a glimpse of them I was stuck. I’m like…

“Hol’ up.”

Mind you of course we was at work, and it was busy, that man had taken off his shirt cuz it was hot and me along with like 3 other girls about died because... "excuse me sir where you get all them tats and mussskles???"

Yes I meant to spell that like that and no I won't change it.

The C is gone because you did not have pleasure of SEEING the God before the Goblin.

And I wasn’t the only one capitvated by this man I promise.

I felt like I had won a prize when the three of us made it official. The perfect fit to our relationship, this man was strong, both physically and mentally, this man was honest, this man was assertive, he was respectful, he showed grace, he was soft.

That man was hitting every one of my lil neurotransmitters. Setting them fuckers off in my brain like fireworks on the fourth of july.

Lets fast forward to March, April, and May. Now up until this point the relationship between Miguel and I has reached a point where two things needed to happen, either I was going now begin the integration process from “hmm I like him let’s be friends”, to, “hmm I like him, I think he would be a perfect match for our relationship.”

YESSSSSSSS!!!

You see what I did there?

You thought this was gonna be one of those I tell yall how Miguel and I were fucking around behind Renee’s back didn’t ya?

Nope!

While I’m skipping over A LOT of information, ie. The hotel, not really don’t worry we’ll get to that. There was a lot of variables at play.

 

So yes, while my feelings for Miguel up until now are solo I have always made it clear to him that I am one half to a whole we (Renee and I) are polyamorus. Not I.

I like him, really, really, really like him.

So now we’re at the period where Renee and Miguel need to, meet (re-aquaint themselves), feel each other out. I am there, but I’m not kind of situation.  

They exchange numbers, and this is where the hotel comes into play.

 

Disclaimer:

This post discusses sensitive topics, including addiction and its impact on relationships. I want to acknowledge that addiction is real, and many of us have loved ones who are struggling. While I share my own perspective, I do so with grace and respect for those whose journeys may look different from mine. If you or someone you love is facing addiction, please remember that your mental health and well-being matter just as much as theirs. Take care of yourself as you navigate these difficult experiences.

 

Fifteen years is a long time to know someone.

I congratulate those couples who celebrate such milestones. It shows your resilience. Because I’m sure it wasn’t easy. Some easier then others, but nowhere near easy by mere definiton.

Up until Fall of 2023 and I’ll say about the Spring of 2024 I’d could say my marriage was, among the easier.

Could.

I won’t say so about that time that’s for sure.

I like to drink, do you like to drink? Why? The taste? The way is makes you feel? Or not feel?

I like it because when I drink it I don’t care.

And not in a “I’m going to take this barstool to beat the shit out of some poor unsuspecting bystander” tyoe I don’t care, no I mean I don’t care who’s watching I’m going to jump up and down to T.a.t.u All the things she said, and sing every word like I directed the video.

You thought I couldn’t do the entire choreography to Beyonce Crazy in love? song included? Hold my beer.

I have the time of my life when I’m drunk.

Others, not so much. My wife included. After a few drinks she may or may not become an entirely different person, and I don’t know who I’m going to get when the curtains close and everyone goes home.

In my mind, the transition for Miguel and Renee, needed to be between them to. I didn’t want my presence to influence whatever natural feelings there may or may not be. The more natural the better.

And I was right. They chatted, nothing major but no awkwardness. For days, weeks even, about what I don’t know, its none of my business. I cared they were interacting.

I continue conversing with Miguel about a whole WORLD of things. I’m a writer, which means I’m a texter I will write you novels obout a particular subject and this man matched every bit of my energy.

A set of books I absolutely adore, The Octunami, I told this man about and he researched it and called me to tell me about what he found.

My wife and I sat there listening to him ramble on together.

So how on earth a few days later I ended up with her hands wrapped firmly around my neck is beyond me.

Let’s back track just a tad, back to Jimmy Neutron.

Yes. For the sake of others involved Jimmy Neutron shall remain nameless. Some parties involved in that situation don’t deserve the backlash that would undoubtedly arise so for now Jimmy, count your fucking blessings.

Jimmy fucking Neutron was, is and will always be a very big thorn in my side. If lying sack of shit had was a person, it would be him. How he found his happy ending proves that the heart of a woman is in fact a powerul thing.

Jimmy Neutron and unresolved issues were the fuel to that fire, but I had no clue I was going to be the______.

I was texting Miguel, at this point it was a common occurrence, Renee had full access to my phone, if I was sitting next to her we would often discuss what to say to make the conversation more interesting. Nothing major.

That day I had seen a meme from Instagram that sparked a memory of a conversation he and I had had about an ex of his who had a child. Something about giving someone your trust, I sent it to him.

And like I often did I set my phone down, not on no face down type shit.

For this time, it was so I could find a movie. Renee had ordered food from the bar and we were going to chill, like we always did.

At the time I set my phone down she was getting ready to head over to the bar and pick up the food, so I get a lil peck on the lips, she leaves and look for a movie. Within seconds I find the movie Ghostbusters, Afterlife. I hit the trailer, check my phone in which Miguel had responded with a photograph of him sitting next to a lil white baby.

I was confused, I had just smoked, so I read what he wrote which was something about the little girl and her mother trusting him to watch her, I don’t know, in which case I reply awe, notice my phones about to die, run to put it back on the charger and try to focus on whats left of the trailer.

Girl.

In that small stretch of time I dose off. When I open my eyes Renee is handing me a plate of pizza and when I tell you this woman is furious.

I mean her face was so goddamn red it was purple.

I asked her, “what’s wrong?”

The only thing I can really gather is I care more about his feelings than I do hers, and I’m so confused because what?

She repeats, “you care more about his feelings than mine. You’re sending him messages and pictures about only knowing someone a short time and caring about them or trusting them.” Basically the words on the meme.

But I’m still so goddamn confused because… I ask if she was reffering to said meme, and then proceeded to tell her she read it wrong, my phone is on the charger, grab it and read it and his response it’ll make sense.

She goes to the room, I take a bite of my pizza, she comes back and gives the phone to me, I say “why you handing it to me? Read the message.”

This girl says no, I don’t need to read the message you’re in love with him.

The fuck?

“I’m in love with who?”

“Miguel?”

“Where did you get that idea?”

“That’s what that meant, you care more about him than you do me.”

 

You’re confused right? Good, because I most definitely am. I pleaded with this woman for ten minutes to look at the damn phone, and she would not.

Finally it got to a point where I just needed to go. She needed to calm down, from what I had no idea, I later found out she had downed 2 beers waiting for the pizza to be made which… added to the “few” beers she had already consumed before hand. Bottomline homegirl was drunk.

It wasn’t the phone, it wasn’t Miguel, hell it wasn’t even me.

Walking away definitely wasn’t the answer. When I tell you the more, I tried to walk away the more she followed the worst it got.

Up and down the street this woman followed me back and forth berating me, belittling me, telling me I was nothing. 

That I needed to leave, that my daughter needed to leave, that she was done. I was fucking Miguel. And I was probably trying to go to his house.

This woman would not stop no matter how many times I begged her. I walked up main street damn near until I got to the gas station turned around because I didn’t want her her to get arrested. At some point I ran just to get away from her. Got back to the house tried to get in the car.

She took the key. Begged her mother to please get her away from so that I can just leave and this bitch is more worried about what Renee is saying.

No matter what I tried, I couldn’t get away from her.

So when I tell you I fucking snapped.

Because this isn’t the first time, or the second time, I’ve had to do this with Renee. I told myself it for sure would be the goddamn last because I was tired.

Her own insecurities was her problem.

I wasn’t being sneaky and had she even looked at the phone she would’ve seen. Never not once had Miguel spoken to me fresh nor I him.

It wasn’t until I swung on Renee that her mama wanted to get active. Now it’s “oh no LaRhonda, what’re you doing… stop fighting… blah blah blah.”

$@×$/$!

I was fighting for my goddamn life.

Nobody on that fucking street wanted to stop and fucking help me. I walked back and forth for what felt like a damn hour, I called out to everyone and only after I had swung and Renee eventually have me on the ground choking me did ANYONE help.

I’ve lived on this street for 15 years, said hello to these people, and not a single person could stop this woman from berating me. At one point I sat in the middle of the street with my head in my hands while she stood over me.

She’s telling the world I’m fucking this man and I don’t even know where he lives nor I. Never even seen him outside of work. But she had convinced herself, her parents, and the fucking neighborhood that I was fucking him.

Go fucking figure.

So, this woman's hands are around my neck and let's be clear, I cannot breathe. I’m thinking to myself, aint this a bitch.

I’m going to die, for allegedly fucking a man, I wasn’t fucking, over a text she won't even read.

Finally, somebody decides THAT’S CRAZY!!!!!

And they try to help. Shout out to the only neighbors I now interact with because without y'all I probably wouldn’t be here.

So, they are finally able to pry this woman off of me in which I run to the house I pack a bag I don’t know what's in it, my sister comes, and I go to her house.

That night ends in a blur.

The next day I go home. Of course, Renee is apologetic but, this is where we are and I don’t feel safe. I repack my bags I get all of my money, and I end up at the most disgusting run-down motel on the Scranton/Carbondale highway.

I stay there for three days. At work, I don’t know if I did it well, but sure as shit tried to go about my business like nothing happened.

I was at my lowest.

And I needed something or someone to just tell me it was going to be ok or take my mind off of things.

And that’s where Miguel made his entrance.

That was the first time I called him, and he didn’t hesitate to come. Almost immediately he knocked on the door and for the first time ever, a man wrapped his arms around me. And just held me.

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t ask any questions he just hugged me. I felt safe.

For the night we listened to music on his phone, mostly Spanish songs he translated. I lay on his chest listening to his heartbeat playing with the chain he wore around his neck that he never takes off. 

Before he left, he kissed me on the forehead, then my lips. And my heartbreak continued.

My life was still falling apart; my wife’s rage had tried to kill me.

All he saw, was a pretty girl in a hotel.

I decide then, the rings would remain off. And have been off ever since.

I deserve better.

Was Miguel my better? I don’t know.

At that time, I had no clue. But it wasn’t the time to find out either.

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

There’s something almost cruel about relationships and how they work, the beginning feels endless, you think, with everything you learn along the way you’ll be safe, secure. This wasn’t a relationship though… Looking back I realize, this was a bond, forged by fire. So why wouldn’t it burn in the end?

This man entered my life the same way he left it, chaos. So, at this point I’m no longer mad at him, but at myself. Sure, his silence cuts deep, still to this very day. It makes me wonder what’s going through his head. I still have questions, but they aren’t exactly the same. 

Is still wonder if he loves me, if me misses me, I still hear his car pull in my driveway, I wonder if this was even part of his plan or if he was coerced. 

 But I also now question if his silence is really for me, or his own protection.

Now I’m wondering.

Was I ever really in love with him? Or did I just need an escape?

 

Please note, this is not the time for yall to pass judgement. On me or my wife. Not even Miguel. Give them grace, this is only my version of events.