It's A long fall from that white pillar that you've been perched on

In May, I started going to a therapist.  The doctor highly recommended that I seek help as I was drowning and didn't really care. I had no strength to fight.  The therapist was a woman.  I had never been in therapy, didn't know why I was even there, but I knew I was headed down a road that I may not survive. 

I went into her office.  It looked like a den in someone's home.  She was older, very plain looking and she conducted her sessions from a spindled rocking chair.  I sat on the couch and she explained the finer details of what to expect. It is very well thought out to provide you the utmost privacy if that is what you are seeking.

She asked me what I was there for .  Well, if I knew that, I probably wouldn't be sitting on your couch starring out a window. What came out of my mouth next, surprised even me, "I'm never good enough, for anyone.  I'm tired of being rejected for who I am."

"Who has rejected you? Why do you not think you are good enough? Good enough for what? For whom?

Geez, Ms. Therapist, one question at a time, I think I just had an epiphany myself.  Do you think they stream truth serum through the air vents in those rooms? Some thing that enables you to see things clearly?

"I have been rejected all of my life, starting with my mother, people I went to school with, my first loves and now my second husband. He thinks there is some thing wrong with me, that I am crazy, his mother probably seconds that motion." And then I started to cry, again. I never cried, yet that is all I could do these days.

"Let's start with your mother."

Of course isn't that where all your problems stem from?  "My Mother has never approved of anything I do, but she is not a part of this problem." And I went on to tell her about my marriage to Chappy, his mother, the moves, ending careers, the women he talked about all the time, his jealousy over Killer, I babbled on for my allotted time and at the end, she merely said, "YOU do not need therapy, you need a marriage counselor."

"No, you don't understand, I need a therapist to get me through this because right now I could not fight my way out of a paper bag and I need to be strong as I'm going to be fighting for my life soon.  This is for me."

"Would your husband consider coming in?"

"I highly doubt it. I have never been a priority  in his life, I doubt that has changed."

"Ask him if he'd come in for one session with you, to shed light on your situation and I'll suggest you two see a counselor. I can still see you independently, but the two of you should seek therapy."

"Thank you." Tears streaming down my cheeks, "I don't think that will work, my doctor tried that and Chappy didn't speak to me for days. He said I set him up. I have to do this for me."

"Do you think he  is having an affair? Do you think he may be depressed?"

" I think, he thinks, I have the problem. It doesn't matter whether  he is or he isn't, I have the problem and right now, I need to get back my self respect as I have lost who I am in this journey, this marriage, I don't have the strength or the courage some days to even face what lies ahead of me within the  hour."

The session ended. I booked another appointment and I walked out to my car.  I sat there and cried for what seems like hours and then I  backed out and drove home. 

Chappy had been out of town. I had told him that I was going to go to therapy.  He called that night to see how it went.  I told him that she thought we need marriage counseling and that he should attend a session with me, to enlighten her on what "my" problems seemed to be.  He jumped on that band wagon, "When do you want me to go?"

He attended the next session with me.  I clearly expected her to ask him questions about what was wrong with me that he didn't find me to be worthy of him.  Instead, she bombarded him with questions, "Are you having an affair? Is there another woman? Do you see the pain you are causing your wife?" The more she said, the more tight lipped he became and the anger rose in his face.  I was going to pay for this again.

We had driven separately.  Chappy had met me there from work.  He didn't say a word, just got in his car and drove away.  He called me later to tell me Pauly was in town for manager meetings and he'd be late.  He was at Frankie's Restaurant meeting her for dinner.  He came home that night at three in the morning.  I made a note in my diary of the details.  Who would have known two years later, I ran into Pauly and I questioned her about that night, she was never in town, nor had she had dinner with Chappy.

Penney's had events for their employees twice a year where you could buy anything in the store with your regular discount plus an additional twenty percent.  Always one to be prepared, I started plotting.  I spoke to Lorna about my plan, if I was headed to a divorce, he was going to be furnishing my next house with all brand new items.  I bought Stiffel table lamps, new towels, new sheets, new dishes, new mattress, tables, bedding, if I thought I needed it, I bought it on his dime.  I stored it at Lorna's house. I didn't want him to see that I was furnishing this potential new life and if he chose to stay, I'd just take it back.

I had transferred from the Custom Drapery Department to Misses after one of  the security guards started watching me a little too closely on the camera and was visiting my desk a little too often.  He told me he thought I was beautiful and how sexy I was.  He would stand behind a pillar so other guards couldn't see him.  I asked him how he knew certain movements of mine and he pointed out the bulb in the sky where he could watch me, "but if you stand here, I can't see you."  He left and I moved my desk about three feet, so that I was not visible to his roaming eye.  It didn't stop him, he started following me out to my car and finally I had to tell management. I apparently was not the first female that had an issue with this man who was to be protecting the store, he was fired and I transferred to a full time position in Misses clothing.

I had never worked retail, but I was enjoying this. I was able to shop while I worked. I cleaned up racks and shopped as I was organizing the merchandise. I had always worn between a size ten and twelve, but I was a size four and if I didn't stop losing weight, I'd be in a two and I couldn't do that.  I had lost close to fifty pounds and loved it!

I could buy any thing and it fit.  My diet in June of 2000 was Cocoa Krispies.  That is all  I could eat and keep down.   Then I moved on to Chick Fill A brownies.  That is all I ate.   And I was still losing weight. I started buying a whole new wardrobe as I had no clothes that fit me any longer. I could buy clothes next to  nothing at Penney's with my discount and I bought clothes! 

I loved to  help women coordinate their purchases. I enjoyed helping men pick out some thing for their wife.  I loved doing displays.  Putting an outfit on the mannequin and running around the store looking for accessories. They had a whole department of merchandisers who did this, but in this little department I worked in, I played Barbies with life sized mannequins and loved it!

The store manager approached me one day and asked if I'd be interested in transferring to the merchandising department. She had been in the department and noticed my displays and said I had a "knack" for this.  It was just before our store wide company meeting they held every morning.

"Thank you, but my husband said I needed to find a real job. It's not going to be here in Alpharetta.  I will probably head back to Indianapolis whenever this happens."

The look on her face was confusion. "Excuse me? A real job? Just what is a real job?"

Without skipping a beat, I responded as if every one knew, "It's a job making more than $50,000 a year."

"Cindy, if that is the case, no one in this store, to include myself, that reports to a job every day, has a real job in your book."

"Patricia," I grinned as I spoke, "Have you ever been divorced?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with real jobs?"

"I'm guessing the difference between a real job and this job, is a lot of spousal support when you are married to a man who makes a lot of money."

"Oh, I understand now. If you decide to stay, my offer remains on the table."

Life with Chappy continued.  Our routines remained the same.  Every Friday night, we'd go to dinner. We'd go to a movie and we'd come home and snuggle in bed.  We held hands, we kissed, we hugged, but there was still tension looming over us.

In late May, we got up on a Saturday and headed to the little breakfast cafe on Main Street.  Some thing was bothering Chappy, I could just tell.  You know these things when you live with someone and care for them.

"What's bothering you?  You look like you have the weight of the world  on your shoulders."

"My job is being eliminated.  Don is retiring at the end of the year and I'm going to take over his territory in Boston."

"Boston? Isn't that a demotion for you?"

"It's a lateral move. Salary wise, but I'm no longer going to be a Vice President, I'm going back to being an National Account Executive.  I don't know what happened."

"I'm sorry. What are you going to do?" I really did feel sorry, he'd worked so hard to get where he was and now he was not dropping one notch, but several notches from where he sat on his white pillar.  He was no longer home office material.

"I bet you are just loving this!  Aren't you?  You always told me that I was just a number to them and now you  are right. I've worked hard to get where I am and just like that, they took it away.  So I have to figure out how to get it back.  I'm going to work more hours and prove to them that I deserve to work here in Atlanta."

Tears welled in my eyes, "Isn't it sad. You already work 24/7 and look what  happened and now you think you have to work more  hours to prove what to them?  I think it is sad that you would dedicate so much to a company that just threw you to the wolves, yet your wife sits here, across the table from you, who would do anything for you, has done everything for you and you won't invest a minute in trying to save this marriage, yet you'll invest your life in trying to prove yourself to no one." 

"I know.  You have always said  you were number four or  five on my list, my job came first, my mom, my dad, my sister and you were right.  I thought after we got married, I could put you in that number one spot or at least number two, but my Mom will always be there, no matter who I am with.  And she will always compete with my career.  My job is the most important thing next to her and I will do everything in my power to keep her proud of me."

Eight years.  It took him eight years to admit what I already knew, I was never nor would I ever be important to him. I was just a stepping stone that had broken on his way up the ladder of fame.