The Awakening: (Phase 3: Recovery)

"You're just a bitter b*tch because you're on the losing end"-JOR

Ironically, it was International Women’s Day (3/8/17) 8AM on a Wednesday when my father and big cousin came through with a U-Haul. JOR was at home (he was unemployed of course) and pretended to be the perfect gentlemen in front of my dad, even helping with moving things onto the truck. “Well, she just doesn’t want to be here…” he kept repeating while giving his best Kanye shrugs. In the weeks prior, he made every attempt to throw in my face that I was in ‘his house”. He called me ‘lazy” (although I was the only one working), “inadequate”, and accused me of being jealous of his greatness because I didn’t want to sit and listen to him talk about himself anymore. So, as we began loading the truck, I remembered those words and refused leave behind anything I paid for, which was relatively about 80% of the contents in “his house”. I wanted EVERYTHING- the fridge, the carpet, the stove, the curtains, the trash cans, toilet paper, the paint on the walls. Well, I really didn’t want it all, I just didn’t want HIM to benefit from any of it. I wanted him to see and feel just how much he was going to lose. I remained calm throughout the entire ordeal…that is until JOR had the AUDACITY to call me “petty” in front of my father for wanting to take my lawn equipment (the lawnmower, weedwhacker, and trimmer my father bought me for my birthday when I became a first-time homeowner). After feeling numb for so long, I suddenly I felt intense RAGE! Seriously, HOW DARE HE???!!!! THE NERVE!!! My father and cousin could see it in my eyes. Yes, I’m a sweetheart, but my father is one of the few people who have witnessed the other side. He knows I have a breaking point, and at that moment, I had reached it like Miss Sophia in “The Color Purple”.

Before I had the chance to act on it, my father said “Welp…Ok…. time to go! ….JOR, it’s been real. ” My father turned to me said “don’t worry about the rest, we’ll get it later” He extended his hand to give JOR a hand shake. JOR shook my father’s and then proceeded to ask my father if he wanted to hear this his new “music” from his car, still attempting to impress my father in last desperate attempt to squeeze the last drops of supply before we pulled off on the gravel driveway. “I TOLD YOU TO VACUUM THIS FLOOR BEFORE YOU LEFT OUT OF HERE!”, was the voice message he left just a few minutes later. The further away I drove from that house of horrors the air became fresher, colors became brighter, and the energy surrounding me seemed to vibrate faster to the point that my only thoughts after hearing it was “Damn, I left my vacuum!”.

Although I was out of “captivity”, my head continued to spin with the thoughts of what had just been through. I felt as if I was swept away like Dorothy in a tornado. However, instead of landing in wonderful land of OZ, I ended up back home….like, HOME HOME….like, back at my parent’s home at 37 years old. I now had absolutely no money, no job, no savings, and mounds of debt. I spent 33 years building my life (and credit) to have it all gone to complete shit in a few short years. I never imagined I’d need to come back home again, and neither did my parents. As empty-nesters, they spread their wings and re-purposed the living spaces in the house when my brother’s and I moved out. My brothers’ old rooms were turned into a family room and the other my mother’s closet. My old room is now my father’s man-cave and sanctuary. So where did that leave me? I was forced to share a bedroom with my mother, the Queen of Bling.

Random Side Note: While I was married, mobile games became my saving grace. I was once a Candy Crush addict (I still play from time to time when my schedule permits). Now if you’re familiar with this game, some of these levels seem impossible to defeat at first, but when you keep trying and eventually you figure out a way to pass. Well I accomplished this 1528 times (and counting) over the past 4 years. If you can imagine, being back at home felt like all my progress was wiped out and I was starting all the way back at level one.

I had only been gone 6 days when I received JOR’s homemade divorce agreement in the mail, which makes me believe he had been planning this for a while. Of course, because he believes he’s the smartest man on planet earth, he created and/or copied the documents himself. He accused me of abandoning him and “dragging out” the divorce process by not complying to his demands for me to sign and send them back next day. I was also called “ignerint” (he even couldn’t spell the word ”i-g-n-o-r-a-n-t”), “ghetto” (even though he grew up in a mobile home adjacent to a cow pasture)”, “lazy” (even though he was unemployed and refused to clean up after himself), and a “n*gger bitch like my mother” (he had a problem with being identified as black). Throughout the entire separation process, I tried to remain as calm as possible or go “grey rock” which is technical term for it. However, being called a “nigger” was a trigger (aye, that rhymed!) that sent me all the way back to the yellow school bus in 4th grade. I finally SNAPPED! I BLACKED OUT! Every explicative known in the English language (some foreign ones too) came flying out of my mouth. I can’t remember exactly what I called him, but all I know is my statement started with the word “You” and was punctuated with the word “bitch”. For all I know, I probably cussed him out in tongues. After the tongue lashing, with his usual smug laugh, he replied, “You’re just a bitter bitch because you’re on the losing end.” After hearing his response, I realized that I was targeted from the beginning. All the things he did to me had been done on purpose as part of a plan he had all along. In his warped, psychotic mind, he’s been playing this cat & mouse type game where destroying the lives of beautiful, independent, successful women gives him some sort of euphoric pleasure. Now I know why he was non-enthusiastic watching sports. Hunting down unassuming women was the ultimate competitive entertainment for him.

“This can’t be happening” I’d say to myself over and over again. I spent hours staring into space trying to comprehend what happened to my life. What could I possibly have done to deserve this? WHY do this to ME? It was hard to wrap my head around the fact that everything he had done was premeditated. At first, being in a constant state of denial tricked my brain into believing it was all a bad dream. Every night I would go to sleep, I honestly believed I’d wake up in my life 4 years prior. I thought if I closed my eyes hard enough, maybe even clicked my heels 3 times, I would end up back in my OWN house, in my OWN bed, and 100 pounds lighter. Instead, I kept waking up next to my mother with my same fat roll staring back at me in her blinged-out closet mirror. Here I was, a grown ass woman who once had it all, now sleeping in the bed with my mom like a newborn! There was no way to make sense of it. Due to the stress, I developed a persistent pain in the pit of my stomach and would be forced out of bed by the urge to vomit at night. I didn’t even know where to begin, how to rebuild, or start the process of recovery. So, I did the only thing I could do. I began backtracking and followed the bread crumbs back to where it all started….

When JOR and I were first dating, we took turns visiting each other every other weekend. The first time it was my turn to make the 6-hour train ride to VA, upon my arrival, he filled his living room with burning candles, put a mat on the floor, and placed a vile with “holy” oil next to it. Without saying any words, He motioned for me to sit down on the blanket while he sat Indian style in front of me. He smeared the oil on my forehead with his index finger and asked me to repeat some sort of “prayer”. Not knowing any better, I thought he was trying to be romantic. But now looking back, I can’t help to think that something more sinister was going on. Later that same night I could sense a heavy, very dark presence over me in my sleep. I slightly opened my eyes and I saw a black shapeless mass slowing moving forward. It that moment, I started to feel like I was suffocating, and my body began to shake. I tried to fight what was happening by kicking and punching the air. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t! It took about 30 seconds before I could force a sound out. “SSSHHHHHH” he whispered in my ear and held me as he tried to calm me down. I was scared to death, but he reassured me it was just a bad dream and I needed to relax. These types of dreams kept recurring over and over, but I never put two and two together. Watching horror flicks and going out to eat became our only source of entertainment, and one of the few things I was” allowed” to do. JOR, an aspiring pastor and self-proclaimed “man of God” with “strange powers”, was overly enthusiastic about watching horror movies, particularly ones about evil spirts, hauntings, and demonic possessions. After indulging in these flicks, his grandmother became the topic of many conversations. As he would recall, she was known to practice witchcraft/black magic and was suspected to belong to a secret coven that she would meet up with late at night. When he stayed at her house as a kid, he said he would find dead chickens in the barn, snake heads under rocks, and “conjure” bags under her bed. Apparently, while she was on her death bed, he and was convinced that her demon possessed body attempted jump into him before she passed. Well, maybe she succeeded. Those are the only stories he told me that were probably true. Before leaving VA, Mrs. Awesome expressed that she felt and evil presence and had to “gather herself” before she crossed the threshold to “his house” the first time. She urged me to pray before I entered the house each day. Now, I understand why. As I reflect upon these strange occurrences and glaring red flags I ignored, I can’t help but believe that maybe I was under some weird, wicked spell the whole time? Maybe the spell was somehow broken the day I woke up in a panic? Maybe once I was free from him, I was physically purging all the wickedness from my body? I can’t say for certain, but suddenly everything started to make sense. Whether you believe in this sort of thing or not, you’d have to admit that it appears to be more than a coincidence.

About a month after my exit, I decided to do some more digging into his background. I was aware that he was married twice before, but soon began to unravel the lies surrounding the circumstances of how they ended. I discovered his first wife (and victim) suffered the same psychological trauma I endured with him, except with her, things also got physical. 20 years later, she still deals with the effects of his abuse and could recall the details of her horrifying experience as Mrs. JOR. Even though I lived through it myself, it still came as a shock and was deeply disturbing to hear her version of what really happened. After hearing her story, I didn’t need any further confirmation that I was married to a monster. As I was beginning to come to terms with what happened, a week or so later I received a message on social media from one of his family members asking if she could speak to me. I’d never met her, but I was open to listening to what she had to say and gave her my cell number. When she called, she immediately said, “Sunni, I want to tell you something that may help you deal with what’s happened.” “What’s that?”, I asked. “Well…… I just wanted to tell you that……. JOR is a narcissist” (DUH!!! A day late and about a million dollars short). She then she proceeded to explain to me why no one said anything to me before. Apparently, she was still friends with one of his ex-girlfriends whose life he (almost) ruined and feared he had done the same to me once she learned we were separated. “We all just thought he had finally found someone who could deal with his crazy” she said. She later told me to stop my “background checking” and warned me that he would retaliate if I continued to speak negatively against him and their family. She didn’t say how, but based on what I recently discovered, I had an idea of what she meant. The one short convo we had explained a lot -Why his parents didn’t attend the wedding….why he didn’t have friends….and why his family constantly gave me the proverbial side-eye after we were married.

I was truly suffering mentally and emotionally and felt alone in my agony. Because I was now with my parents and still didn’t have much privacy or my own space, I found myself AGAIN spending time in parking lots sitting in my car for hours trying to process my emotions. Breaking down became a normal occurrence and I knew I needed to get help. I couldn’t afford a therapist and didn’t know who I could talk to who would truly understand. In the age of information, it only takes a few clicks to find out anything you need to know. I began doing some research on my own about how I was feeling, what happened to me, and how to cope. All of my research and symptoms pointed to Narcissistic Victim Syndrome. I wasn’t completely ignorant to what narcissism is, because I had read about it in the past. However, I was completely ignorant to its severity and how it can cause complete devastation in unassuming victim’s lives. Most folks think a narcissist is just someone who’s conceited or overly into themselves. This is true to a certain extent, but that’s just on the surface. Dealing with a narcissist can feel like a battle for your soul and healing from the psychological damages can be an uphill battle comparable to recovering from a terrible car wreck or any other traumatic experience.

MY RECOVERY PROCESS

Feeling the Pain

It took me some time to understand that I was allowed feel what I was feeling. For 4 years I felt like a piece of property, a toy, a zombie, and feeling every bit of the anger, hurt, bitterness, disappointment made me feel alive and was a big part of rediscovering who I am. After being numb for so long, allowing myself to sit still in my emotions made me feel like a human being again. Just like anything else, ignoring pain will only have harsher consequences later on if it’s not addressed. Allowing myself to feel the pain was a reminder that there are some things within myself that needed healing -Not just from divorce, but also a lot of pain and trauma I never truly acknowledged in my life.

Accepting Responsibility

My empathic ways contributed to my own downfall. I always put his needs first and discounted my own. I felt tremendous guilt about him giving up everything to come live with me and wanted to be a supportive wife and return the favor. As the fog continued to clear, I realized that the whole scenario was a manipulation tactic used as leverage guilt me later into getting his way. It worked! For me, the hardest part of the healing process was thinking all of it was sooooo unnecessary. I thought “I didn’t need to learn this lesson dammit! I just want my old life back!” or “How will everything ok! HOW???!” Of course, after the fact, family and friends express their true feelings. It truly came as a shock that EVERYBODY in my life disliked him from the beginning. I suffered through hearing the constant generic responses folks give in these situations, such as “His loss,” “You live, and you learn”, or “Everything will be ok”, which are actually more damaging than they are comforting. It’s difficult to keep from blurting out “Shut the f*ck up!” because you know they mean well and are just trying to help. I thought to myself, “Where were all these opinions when I introduced y’all to him? Why didn’t anyone say anything? How is this his loss when I’m the one who lost EVERYTHING?” If all my family and friends told me the truth in the beginning, would it have saved me? Probably not. I knew something wasn’t right, but I distrusted my own instincts. I invalidated my own feelings by not acting on what I already knew deep down-he wasn’t the right person for me. Placing the blame elsewhere wasn’t going to change anything. I ignored all the red flags and allowed this because I didn’t love myself enough. If I had truly believed I WAS enough, I wouldn’t have tried to complete my life with another person and saved myself all the pain, turmoil, and inconvenience of starting over again. Accepting this about myself was instrumental in laying the foundation to building my “brick house”.

Forgiving Myself

Hindsight is always 20/20. I know It’s cliché, but it’s just a fact. Most people don’t go into a marriage believing they will get divorced. I thought marriage was supposed to be forever. I made a commitment, wanted to stand by that, and sacrificed a lot to make it work. Nonetheless, marriage becomes toxic and destructive when there is only one person doing all the compromising. Unfortunately, I was that person.

We all want love. It’s perfectly normal to want to spend your life with a person. It’s more difficult in 2019 now in a society that seems to judge people harshly for having traditional values. The world is getting smaller, everyone is more accessible, and there is more tolerance/appreciation for alternative lifestyles. Because of this, there has been a major shift in general attitudes towards relationships. Many folks are reluctant to be tied down to one person because of the thought that someone better might easily come along. Platforms such as dating sites/apps and social media gives people the false perception of unlimited options and presents the illusion of perfection when there is no such thing. I had to forgive myself for not being perfect and choosing a mate who isn’t perfect. I married someone completely incapable of love. How embarrassing! However, I had to understand that being a loving, caring, and compassionate person are not character flaws and is nothing to be ashamed of. They and are just a part of what makes me great. The world needs love and It’s a blessing to possess such qualities even when it feels like it doesn’t love you back. Now I know I must give myself the same energy I give to others. The next go ‘round, I’ll know preserve this awesome personality trait for someone who truly deserves it and won’t abuse the privilege.

Letting go

If there is a greater purpose behind all I’ve experienced, it’s difficult to embrace it with open arms when holding on to heavy baggage. After I allowed myself to feel and process my emotions, I had to understand (and OVERstand) that holding on to my negative thoughts was only keeping me from moving forward. Worrying about my future put the message out to the Universe that I don’t believe in my own resilience. Dwelling on the past and what I used to have sent signals that I don’t require better for myself. Life is not over, and as long as I my heart beats, there is hope. I am learning to live in the moment and make the choice to relish in the goodness that each day brings. I formed a direct partnership with the Universe and as long as I am doing my job, I trust that the Universe will do “hers”. The best is yet to come.

Deprogramming and Getting Back To Me

Almost everything about me that made me “ME”, my ex-husband had a problem with. When I’d walk into a room and say hello to everyone and give out hugs, he’d pull me aside and say “Stop being so friendly”. Blasting music in my car is one of my favorite things, but I was always told (not asked) to turn it down. When I felt compelled to sing or whistle my favorite tunes, I would be silenced every time. I was “Shhh-ed” if I laughed too loud. He demanded my phone always remain on silent. I had to watch my favorite shows like Ru Paul’s Drag Race or Love and Hip Hop in secret, ETC., ETC,. ETC. You get the picture. Constantly walking on eggshells had me tip-toeing through life instead of stomping the pavement like a runway diva. I had to start a new routine and break my martial habits by setting physical reminders to let my cell phone ring, turn my music up loud, and give out hugs like I used to. Instead of wearing sneakers and t-shirts, I went back to my uniform (mini dresses and heels). I got a new gym membership and started an exercise routine. For the first time in 5 years, I decided to audition for some fashion shows. I went back and read old journals and looked at old pictures to remember who I was. I realized that I never told Sunni Diggs how much I loved and appreciated her, so every day I strived to love her unconditionally in efforts to win her back. She and I are now in an amazing, loving relationship.

D-Day

D-day is known in American history as Defender’s Day, when US military forces invaded northern France to fight back against Nazi tyranny and in the second World War. D-day (Divorce Day), for me was the end of many battles I fought over the past 4 years in the war for my soul. Again, as always, my dad was the general in my spiritual regime and stood right beside me on the battle field, AKA the courtroom. My defense strategy was not to attack, but to not acknowledge my enemy at all. I just pitied him. As I sat with my dad in the waiting area outside the courtroom scrolling through my phone, an email popped up from Full-Figured Fashion Week (one of the fashion shows I auditioned for in efforts to "get back to me"). When I opened it, it read “Congratulations”! I was overwhelmed with excitement and thought to myself “Yes! I still got it!” and was the ultimate validation that I was meant to pursue the dreams that were ripped away from me during my marriage. It was a sign that I was going to be ok. Soon after, we were summoned into the courtroom. Surprisingly, he didn’t have much to say. While he was alone with no one there supporting him sitting in the court room, I noticed how in the presence of authority he cowers. The overtly confident and cocky JOR didn’t exist while being stared down by a judge. I wanted nothing from him. I just wanted to be Sunni Diggs again and being completely free from him was enough. “Well thank you both for making my job easy, “ the judge said with a grin, “Expect your divorce decree in the mail in a couple weeks”. When I glanced over at him, it became obvious as ever that he will forever be a miserable and lonely soul. I realized at that moment that he was really the one on the losing end. And even though I was left with only my name and dignity intact, indeed, I HAD WON.

While this has all been a very painful process, I have gotten through it al by expressing gratitude. I have supportive family, amazing friends, and thankful that I 'm able tell my story. I’m thankful that I have the chance to start over. I'm just thankful that I'm still here. There are many women who are not as fortunate. I have a new appreciation for each day that I live, and for that reason alone, I am winning.

Full Fugured Fashion Week 2018 walking for Lane Bryant.