Well the day of reckoning has finally come.

A couple of days ago my boyfriend went on a trip to visit an old friend and go to an academic conference where his friend is presenting a paper. We went to the Amtrak station in the usual chaotic fashion (where’s my keys? Where’s my wallet?).  As we are wait for the train, he asks if I can keep a couple of boxes at my apartment. This results in a fight because I already agreed to let him keep two boxes and two boxes only at my place, and now he wants to keep more.  He tells me the contents of the boxes are very important to him, full of his memories, and that he would be devastated if anything happened to them.  I can’t understand why he doesn’t just take care of his own stuff and stop cluttering up my apartment with his ugly boxes. It’s then he spills the beans: he has received an eviction notice from his landlord and has to be out in two weeks.  Apparently last month he refused to pay rent over some minor, petty issue, and now he is being evicted.  On top of that, he has ether quit or been fired from his most recent odd job. I ask him what date he has to move out by, and he tells me he doesn’t remember.  How could you seriously not know the date you have to move out?  Wouldn’t this be important information to know?  And why in God’s name would you go on a trip right before you are about to be evicted?  Anyway, the list of chores I have to do while he is away is watch his  car, take more boxes into my apartment and go to his apartment everyday to make sure his stuff isn’t out on the street.  At this point I start to cry, because I know eventually he will ask to live with me, and I will have to say no. Whenever I think that he might end up homeless or that he will be sleeping in his car I start to cry. It makes me really upset because he won’t be able to understand why he cannot.  He’s going to think that I abandoned him.  After this, I give him a teary good bye.

Since he has been on vacation he has been calling me incessantly asking for “favors.”  I have to look up his friend’s flight number because he forgot it; I have to monitor his apartment; I have to rent him a car because he has no credit left on his credit card and his friend can’t rent it because he is from abroad. He wants me to go online and rent a car under my name with my DL number, making them both secondary drivers.  But don’t worry, I refused to rent the car, because I don’t want to pay for anything anymore—not a single cent—and I don’t want to be liable for any accident they might have (besides, I don’t think the rental car company would accept such shenanigans anyway) .  He complains about walking, about having to ride the bus where there are “gangs.” About how tired he is.  He is trying to put a guilt trip on me and I know that when he gets back he is going to tell me that he is disappointed in me, that I ruined his trip and that I am trying to ruin his career because he could have met more people at the conference if he had a car.  But I don’t care anymore.  I am tried of being a nurse and a maid.  I have resorted to the immature tactic of not answering the phone all day because I know on other end all I’m going to find is some ridiculous, crackpot request.  I texted him “I am working. I am not available for services.”  His response: “when are you available?”    Just got another message as I’m typing this,  “Want to do a favor for me? Can you go to my apartment?  It is important.”  I am starting to shut down.  I am not doing anything anymore for him.  I’ve already done so much and have nothing to show for it. I know I will pay for it when he gets back.

As per my previous post (http://www.adhdmarriage.com/content/faceing-homelessness) I’m facing a moral dilemma over the possibility of allowing my boyfriend to move in with me.  I’m pissed about the boxes because I think he is already trying to move in by keeping his stuff here. On top of that, my apartment is extremely small (I live in an SRO), so it gets cluttered very easily. 

My apartment, as crappy as it is, is my happy place.  It’s my only solace and peace, a place where I can go and be me for a few hours, a place where I don’t have to deal with any of his problems.  I got my apartment during a very chaotic time in our relationship. My BF wasn’t allowed over at my previous place because my roommate had a no boyfriend policy.  She was a hard person to live with and angered easily over small things, so I did my best to stay out of her way. Well one day I lost my keys (ironically, I lost them during an argument with him. He yelled at me for taking too long to get ready that day. He suspected I was doing something I shouldn’t, or was hiding something from him.  He has a bit of paranoia. Anyway, I became distracted during the argument and left them in a coffee shop).  When I told my roommate about the lost keys she did not take it very well and gave me a brow beating even though I had already arranged for new locks and was going to pay for everything. I decided to spend the night at his place to get away from her.  When I told him about the brow beating, he become enraged.  He started driving around the block very fast.  He was fuming.  He kept telling me “this is not over yet.”  Finally he stopped in front of my apartment and told me I had to go back to my apartment and tell my roommate off.  I refused—who was he to direct me or tell me what I had to do? He then said that if I wasn’t going to tell my roommate off, he was going to do it for me.  He ran out of the car and rang our buzzer, with me running after him, crying and begging him not to do it. He ignored my requests.  I was hysterical.  He really scared me with his anger and I don’t like confrontation, especially with my roommate. My roommate mistakenly answered the door thinking it was me, at which point he yelled at her, called her nasty things, called her a %#&*.  Because of this incident, I had to move out of my apartment.

This was really a dark time in our relationship.  I had never experienced such controlling behavior before.  What upset me the most was that I asked him to stop.  I told him no.  But he did it anyway.  The worst part was, he wouldn’t own up to it.  He refused to apologize and still will not own up to the fact that he had lost his temper and did something he should not have done.  He constantly downplays this incident like it was no big deal, but for me it was very traumatic.  I cried that whole night and periodically the next day.  It was extremely hard to go to work the next day, as I was a first year middle school teacher, which was very stressful for me as I spent nearly every hour of my life creating my lessons and grading papers.  He has still never apologized for what he did and nor has he ever admitted that it was wrong.  He feels completely justified in this.  I, on the other hand, felt I was robbed of my autonomy as an individual, caught between too extreme, angry people.

After this incident, my feelings for him declined drastically. I still love him, but not to the extent that I did before. I stopped trusting him. I stopped having faith in his wisdom and integrity and moral judgment.  I do not trust him with my emotions anymore.  I cannot count on him to do the right thing.

Even though I didn’t want to be near him, I had to stay at his apartment because I had nowhere else to go.  I was so depressed—I felt homeless, lifeless, like my life was spinning out of control.  And I was also disappointed in myself—that I could be with a person like this, that I hadn’t had the courage to end things that night.  And now I wish so badly that I had ended things then.  It would have been the perfect breaking point.  I don’t know why I didn’t.  I guess it was because I had no other place to go.

I stayed at his place for about two weeks.  During this time he yelled at me a lot, more than he has ever yelled at me since or before. I remember dropping him off to school one morning.  He was mad about something I can’t remember—something minor, I think it was some scheduling conflict we had.  He yelled it me during the entire 20 minuet drive to campus, giving me list of everything I have ever done wrong, telling me that I needed to see a therapist and that I needed to loose weight and go to the gym. I felt like a captive in the car (his favorite place to yell at me) and a captive in his apartment. By taking my housing away from me, he made me dependent on him and he took my brief dependency as an opportunity to verbally abuse me.  I felt that he was becoming controlling and I knew that I absolutely could not live with him.   

Moving was very stressful.  I had to move in about three day’s time.  I did it all myself. But the stress from work, from having to deal with an unruly 8th grade class, from him and my roommate was too much.  One day I went to the emergency room because I was having vision problems in one eye while I was teaching.  I was afraid I was having a stroke or something.  Luckily, at the ER they couldn’t find anything wrong with me.  I also stopped having my period from the stress. My hair and skin looked terrible.

So you can imagine how happy I was when I found a place of my own.  I remember when I first moved in, standing in the apartment thinking, “no one is going to take this away from me.” I felt like Scarlet O’Hara. For me, the apartment symbolizes my autonomy and independence from him. So this is why I absolutely don’t want him to move in. I don’t know what will happen when he gets back.  He’s going to be pretty pissed I went MIA on him.