The purpose of this post is to show others how it felt. Not to say that it will happen to you. Just so you know what it felt like for me. Everyone's experience is different. I definitely miss England.
I don't know where I went wrong
How I ever got to the point where I loved someone so much that I did not respect myself at all. How I got to the point in my life where someone else were ten times more important than I was and everything in my life would go to hell before I realized that I was in seclusion.
My own deep seclusion of life and the love of my family. Happiness was not being with someone that hated me. I had no idea the deep seeded hatred that
the person had for me until one day the person inflicted it on me physically.
I gathered what was left of my pride. I gathered what was left of the skeleton of a person I had and I picked up and did what I had to do. Not because I wanted to. Not because I did not love that person, but because there was nothing inside of me any longer.
I sat in the counselors office. I cried in pain and agony. Not because I was in pain. Not because it was physical, but because my heart was torn apart. I felt like I had eaten a snake that bit me inside and tore my whole world apart. I was inside empty and void of everything. I was searching inside for what did I do wrong? Why did this person hate me so much? Why would I never be good enough for him?
The red burning down my throat was from the tears and snot that built up the day before. I cried until my eyes were red and wept until there were no more tears. Toilet paper was all I had to wipe with and the trashes were full every day for 4 - 5 months. I would sit in the bed with the laptop on my side trying to 'connect' with anyone, someone, that would possibly understand, but atlast there was none.
It wasn't as if I had died. It wasn't as if I was no longer there physically. My heart was still there but there was none allowed to touch it. I could not think of moving forward with anyone or any thing because I was just dead in my soul.
I knew myself. I knew who 'i' was without him, but I had not lived without him in 7 years. It had been like as if I were new again. It had been like I was living in a dream trying to gather all of my senses just to stay alive and not to cry.
Empty, I drove to work every day on the motorcycle that I loved. Empty I gathered myself together and rode the train. With nothing I sat at the table and thought of him eating my porridge in the afternooon. With nothing I purchased rice and vegetables in the store and brought them back to my apartment and sat over them while they were cooking in the oven. I turned the heat up in the stove and in the house. I heated the whole house up and I was warm. I didn't give a damn that it was costing money I just did it. I did this because he would not have let me do this when I lived with him. It felt good to be in a warm place with a duvet over my bed. To finally be in a house that I could lay in the bed naked in and go around the whole home naked all day and night and lock the slider door. I finally had a place that was mine for a while. The fox's slept in my back yard and I liked to stare at them out the upper window of a bedroom that was next to mine. The sadness I felt inside. It was almost unbearable, but I knew that I would survive. Somehow I would find my way home. Somehow even if I had to beg people to help me.
So while I was 'supposedly' running around being a whore, even though no one shared my bed, I was begging people on the internet to help me. I needed a way home.
I made friends with a few men online speaking to them made me feel better about being away from home, but none offered to help me. I made friends and I spoke to one of them on skype a few times but he turned into a psychopath so I stopped talking to him. I felt better just talking to an American being that I was in a foreign country.
The day I received the papers telling me to go home from the British consulate I cried. I did not want to leave my residents. I did not want to leave my job, but I promised God. When I sent in the final paperwork I promised God that I would accept his decision no matter what. I would not question the decision. Even though it seemed very unfair, even though I had more counselling to do and more work to do on myself and my emotional state I accepted the fact that God wanted me to go home.
When I looked at the papers I cried because I knew that this was the end of an era. It was the end of something that I could no longer keep. It was a clear instruction. Go home. So I prayed and I thanked God for making that decision for me. Even though it wasn't him it was the consulate that made the decision. I am sure that he had a hand in the decision.
After having tried several different methods of begging from people, family and friends, and running an add saying I would work for someone in their home for a plane ticket back to the USA, and applying for jobs and trying to apply for any job that would allow me to get on any ship to get back home eventually I felt lost. The ships did not leave on time. My time would run out. I had no idea what was going to happen and how was I even going to get home. I asked him my ex to make a deal. We made a deal and he sent me home.
I am thankful for that deal every day of my life. I am thankful that he sent me home and that he paid for me to leave the UK. I have nothing else to be more thankful for in my entire life. I just am so happy to be back here.
In the airport I spoke to the baggage woman. I told her that I only had an extra 50 to pay for the bags and I knew that i had two more bags to go through if she did not accept the money. I told her in a sort of desperate way that I had moved to the UK and I had to leave and I told her that I would go through the bags and throw things away if she would not accept the money for the bags. She complied and I was so thankful because I had not money for postage for my things and everything I had in the bags were things that I had most of or all of my life and were ever so important to me. I could not bear to leave them behind.
When the flight left the UK and I was on the plane to America my face was stained with tears. I felt that i would never find love again. I felt that I would never be okay again. I felt that I was empty on the inside. I could not bear to think about all that I had gone through.
After 13 hours my flight landed in JFK international airport in New York.
There i picked up my luggage and forced it in front of me down a wide corridor. I do not know how I managed the 4 pieces now because it was such a long way to the next flight but I did. I could barely manage.
I felt a relief to have my feet on American soil. 6 hours I waited for my flight to Michigan. It was the longest 6 hours of my life.
