The first two years of me and Nick’s relationship were peaceful. Peace has a funny way of bringing silence to trauma. When things are good, you can forget about almost anything.
I got my real estate license and I was busy selling homes. I didn’t particularly care for real estate much other than Nick said I would be good at it. I was still in school for criminal justice, but I figured I would do real estate to help pay the bills while I was in school. This was also the time I started dabbling in design and digital marketing. It was more of a hobby; I never dreamed I would be doing it for a living years later.
In mid-2000, we had been dating for over two years. I wanted to know where the relationship was going and I did start asking questions about future plans and how he felt. My questions were met with, “Bean, I can’t marry you until you get your weight off”. It was a devastating blow because he met me at the same weight, nothing had changed. I hadn’t realized it bothered him so much but if this was the case, why was he with me? He told me he was not going to put a ring on my finger until I reached a size 12. No, I have no idea where that came from.
I tried so hard to make that happen, I really did. The pressure became intense and subconsciously I’m sure, I fought it every step of the way. If I put something in my mouth, he didn’t approve of, he’d make sure I got a dirty look. I remember glaring back him…. Thinking to myself, “watch this you jerk”… and I would deliberately put whatever he didn’t want me eating in my mouth. I will admit, many times it was very deliberate. I hated the fact he was controlling my food. HATED IT. My solution was to hide it from him. I ate whatever I wanted whenever he wasn’t around. In my mind, all I heard was, “I’m going to do whatever the hell I wish to do”. Nick was kicking up quite a bit of old memories with the food control. His good intentions (if you could call them that) were a very bitter reminder of my past. Something I had fought to forget.
Our culture clashes also became a problem. It took two years for him to bring me home to meet his family and I was very excited about it. We got to fly to the East coast for the occasion. I was excited up until I was actually standing on his father’s front porch. His father met us at the door, walked outside and spat on me. In his culture, spitting on someone meant the worst of the worst. It was saying “you are no better than the spit on the bottom of my shoe.” It was the worst insult you could give someone. I was not from his culture and his family did not approve. We stayed at a hotel that weekend instead of his family’s home, but it was uncomfortable. They were speaking Arabic so I wouldn’t know what they were saying, they were very hostile and angry and they kept pointing at me. This would be the case for most of our relationship. I just couldn’t crack them. I couldn’t change the color of my skin and I couldn’t alter the fact I was born in America. I didn’t want to throw away two years so I kept saying, “things will get better…….they will come around eventually.”
Nick enrolled in Law school in late 2000. We were now separated by almost 100 miles. It could have been worse, but this would be the beginning (believe it or not) of nine years apart.
In 2002, I was a college sophomore (credit speaking). I had gotten quite involved in political organizations around campus. I embraced my love for the law, politics, and new friends at a campus co-ed fraternity. That spring I would get knocked off my rocker once more when I found myself in the dead middle of a lawsuit against the police department, the city, and mayor’s office. Again, sparing details, my attorney and his team of six lawyers took the case pro bono and filed for civil rights violations against a police officer and the police chief. Judges and cooperating lawyers called the case “Sampson and Goliath” which apparently is a term coined in the legal community when you go up against a municipality. We were successful at taking the case all the way to the 5th District, (New Orleans) so that there would be a fair trial; away from political influence.
I was 24 years old and I felt like I had already lived 100 years. I felt old, haggard and drug out. I knew more about the legal system than anyone I knew. I was in a whirlwind; like the world was spinning around me with no escape. While Nick was in law school, I decided to leave Texas for awhile so I could spend some time back home. I wanted some time to clear my head. I missed it. I was stressed, I wasn’t sleeping, I was depressed, and it was time for a break. I was tired of his size 12 conditions, I was getting tired of the distance. I felt like if he could be gone, I could as well.
I was gone for two and a half years. It was a fun time and I definitely got that needed break. It was time to go back to Texas and get ready for the trial. I missed Nick. I was hoping maybe we could reconcile. I would just give in and get the weight off for him. I mean I didn’t want it anyway, what was I fighting? I was going to have to prove I was serious because I had gained 80 pounds while I was gone. Nick was offered a job on the East coast and told me he would be gone for 24 months. I could wait that long. Another couple years was no big deal. We decided to continue dating long distance. I felt like I was strong enough to make it work.
I got back to Texas in 2004 and I was expecting trial but it just dragged on for several more years. Finally, the city and police department wanted to settle. The year was 2006 and it was called “The Year of Police Disgrace” by the local newspapers. We got a resignation from the police chief, the officer was fired and we got judgments that we will never see. The lawyers got money, but we never saw a dime of it.
Lesson learned – The only people that win in lawsuits are lawyers. At this point I knew there was only one decision for me. I was going to law school. I would be ruler of Gotham City; city of justice, city of peace. Next door to sorrow lived happiness and I was going to find it.
Bean There.
[…] hearing Nick’s voice telling me that I was weak because I couldn’t get my weight off. AI kept hearing his family tell me I wasn’t good enough. I kept seeing my wedding dress getting dangled over my head like a carrot. Twenty-five years […]