I Purged Everything … and Left My Sons
Heeeeey cuzzin
I know it's been awhile since I shared stories with you. I've been going through some struggles and trying to rebuild my business, my mind has been full. So grab something that soothes you and kick back, this week I want to tell you about the Great Purge of May 2021 … and the day I abandoned my sons.
It was four years ago this week, to be exact.
I had recently moved into a big house near Chocolate Lake in Kjipuktuk (aka Halifax) with my new girlfriend and my two young sons (their mom had since found a new man). The place was old but beautiful, tiny but cozy. It was all my little family needed.
Our relationship flourished, we had gone through hell and back to be a couple. She moved from Mississippi, I moved from Calgary. Stuck in passionless marriages, we found a unique connection in each other. Both artists, her a painter and illustrator (and more), me an author and publisher, our talents and passions complemented each other.
She was the last woman I ever said “I love you” to. Not because I haven't felt it since, but only because I'm scared to admit/express it … you’ll soon learn why.
In March 2019, we drove across KKKanada to start our new life together in a new city, in my old ‘69 Ford F250. Two years of bliss followed (or so I thought). Both far from our homelands, we learned to love M’ikmaki (Nova Scotia) together - touring, hiking, biking, kayaking, beach walks, starry night talks.
Picture perfect … now picture this:
It's morning. Sun is shining, the weather is sweet. I head to Home Depot to buy supplies to build her a little painting studio. She is at home with my boys. I text her and show her pictures of the wood that I’m buying and she said she loves it. I am beyond excited to finally give her a space to create art like she's always wanted. I pay for everything and rush back home.
She kisses me ever so gently when I arrive, like it's the last time we are going to see each other. I feel warmth in my heart, a glow in my soul. My boys are in their room giggling and saving the world from alien hordes on their Xbox. At that moment the world was perfect to me. I show her our Home Depot goodies: the shelves, the brackets, the mounts, the colors, the storage. I can tell she is just as excited as I am to start putting everything together. I tell her I’m gonna go smoke a quick joint on the front porch and gaze at our beautiful Chocolate Lake view.
Halfway through my delightful doobie, my phone dings with a new notification. At this point I'm only half high, so only one of my eyes is bloodshot. Through my one sober lens, I read my new notification. It’s from her:
“I left a note, don’t be mad!”
... is all she wrote
Being half high I file languidly down my short hall from my bright front porch to my tiny cupboard kitchen (it was built for a very short lady). My lady’s probably upstairs, so I say a bit loud: “Whatchu mean, note? Did I forget something at the store?”
… no answer
I run upstairs, she’s not there. I run downstairs, she’s not there. I ask my boys, they barely look up from their game and shrug. I grab my phone and message her back: “What note? Where is it? Where are you? LOL”
… “its on the fridge” she says
I find the note, and I am blindsided by the 4 most devastating sentences I had ever read (up until that point):
“I don’t love you romantically, or as a future wife. We can be friends. My U-Haul will be here tomorrow. You will find someone else.”
My sons are in the next room, so I have to find a place to break down. I can’t see properly anymore, everything is collapsing around me, reality is breaking down. My tiny cupboard kitchen grows to immense proportions, I become tiny and insignificant. My short hall stretches further and further, I barely reach the door. My bright front porch is darkened by my own private eclipse, the sky crumbles into thousands of pieces, smashed and tattered.
It’s corny, but when I was a little boy, one of the first videos I ever saw on MTV was Total Eclipse of The Heart by Bonnie Tyler, and I was hooked! Back then it was all just words to me, but now I was living them.
“Once upon a time there was light in my life, but now there’s only love in the dark. Nothing I can say, a total eclipse of the heart.”
It was only then, while sitting on my porch - elbows on knees, forehead in hands, blinded by tears - it dawned on me: she couldn’t have left from the front, ‘cause I would have seen her leave, she left through the back, up this old dirt hill. She didn’t just walk away from me, she scampered up a muddy cliff away from me.
… cue crocodile tears
“Once upon a time I was falling in love, now I’m only falling apart. Nothing I can do, a total eclipse of the heart.” … my voice quivers
For the first time in my life I was alone, during the height of covid, across the country from everything I have ever known. My boys left that day to their mom’s, and for the first time since I’ve had kids, I was happy they were gone. I didn’t wanna scar them, too.
That first night I did not sleep at all, just cried on my porch with only the lake listening.
The next morning her U-Haul was set to arrive, and I just couldn’t bare to watch it all, so I went to sit with my only friend - the lake. Overcome with sadness I reached out the only way I knew - online. I asked the public for a friend. I asked Facebook for a friend. I didn’t want to be alone. I shouldn’t be alone. A gentle soul answered the call, and saved me that day, she took me to the beach and let me cry rant. I wrote all about it in a previous story, find it here.
Six hours later, I returned to a half empty home. Her clothes gone, her paintings gone, her love gone. My cries ricocheted from wall to empty wall, echoing in my tear weary ears. Man, that was a tough week, cuzzin. I felt so damn alone, friendless, my only friend was gone, my mind went irrational. I was recovering from hernia surgery, so my body was irrational too. I didn’t eat the entire week, just black coffee and sadly badly rolled joints, the cornerstone of a heartbroken breakfast.
Day 7, I called my brother who I hadn’t talked to in almost a decade. In the middle of our convo, I went to the bathroom, freaked, then yelled on the phone “my pee is brown, bro!!!”. He asked what I’ve been eating: “you need water, man, not coffee!”
Day 14, I still haven’t eaten, but I bought a case of water bottles. My boys are visiting again. I decide to cook for them, the first time in weeks - chicken nuggets, that used to be their fav. I fire up the oven to 400 degrees, and pour out a bag of breaded mock chicken chunks onto my heavily stained baking sheet. Oven beeper goes off, it’s piping hot and ready for pretend chicken. As I open the oven door, a small juice lid falls from the counter, slides down the oven door, all the way to the back of the oven. I use a fork to grab it before it melts. On the way back out, my forearm accidentally rubs against the red hot element.
I don’t pull my arm away, I let it singe for a moment…
It felt so good not to have the pain in my brain, it felt so good to have the pain in my arm instead. It was only for a moment, but it was long enough. I quickly come to my senses and pull my arm away. I can see the fat under my skin.
The pain … was … tremendous…
I quickly care for my arm, put on some burn ointment and wrap it up. The pain in my arm gives my brain what addicts refer to as ‘a moment of clarity’. I now understand self harm in a way I never have. I look at my bandaged arm. I look in the mirror. I tell myself:
“O’mahk’siik’iimi, you need to get the fuck out of here. Go home to your people!”
I look at my half filled home, I can’t take all this sh*t with me. I look at my hernia surgery bandage, I can’t lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk. Then, as clear as an azure sky of deepest summer, a voice says:
“PURGE IT ALL”
Over the next week, I do exactly that. Everything I ever owned. Facebook Marketplace. Free, Must Pick Up. Everything I ever owned, save for three plastic bins. One with my kids photos, one with my kids art, one with my kids game stuff. I didn’t even keep my clothes. To keep my mind occupied I asked people where there ancestors are from, as they picked up my/their items. I kept a little log of each item: “TV - Afghanistan, Couch - Somalia, Mattress - Scotland”. Even though I was leaving M’ikmaki, everything I ever owned was staying here.
The fateful day came when there was nothing left to purge, nothing left to throw away, nothing left to clean.
Sounds like a lot, does it not? Well, the worst is yet to come…
Me and my late ‘03 War Pony (aka Toyota Camry) pulled up to my ex’s house. My boys were waiting for me on the front porch. My younger son didnt quite understand, but my older sure knew. This is it, their dad is leaving them. Their dad, who had been there for them daily since the nurse handed them over to me straight from the womb, was leaving them. I had to keep strong for them. Their mother and stepdad are amazing parents, my boys will be okay.
Leaving my boys was the worst mistake I ever made. I regretted it instantly, and I had a long 5 day drive across Canada, away from them, to think about it.
Come back for the next chapter, where I:
endure domestic abuse
get tens of thousands of dollars manipulated from me
live in my car for 7 months
drive back and forth across the country 9 times
travel to Mississippi, for closure
finally move back to my boys
**Bonus Breakup Tip: Talk about things with your partner when you first begin to feel doubt … and pleeeeeease, do not end things with a note (or text, or chat), it can/will emotionally scar them.
