How My Ex-Boyfriend Became My Neighbor: Part 2

I decided right then to act like this wasn’t bothering me. He was acting like moving his wife’s and stepchildren’s belongings was business as usual. I refused to let him see me upset. I sat down in the kitchen, put my feet up, and listened to music. I watched as he and his minions (he paid them) moved from my kids’ rooms, to the kitchen and to my office.

The Mitch then complains that I’m not helping. I didn’t understand that one. He told me to go to work. I was supposed to come back and find my things gone. Why is he expecting me to help now? He soon left to go to the storage and to work his second job (a man who makes SIX FIGURES a year, needs a second job because I’m not there contributing). I decided to tackle the bedroom we shared and I realized I would need help. I called my father and my sister. My dad arrived with my daughter. When she saw her empty room, she burst into tears. Once my sister came over, we managed to pack up most of the bedroom, bathroom and kitchen. My dad left for more bins and boxes and The Mitch soon returned to the house. I was bombarded with questions about what needed to be loaded and what was left to do. I tried explaining that my dad went to get more bins so I could finish, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. He was ready for me to leave so he could go to sleep before going to work, so I told him to shut the f*** up and lay down. His response, “You don’t have to get an attitude.”

That was the last straw. Something in me snapped. My sister started to speak, I stopped her and said, “No, it’s ok. I got this” and went off on a major rant. I let it all out. His brother, cousin, my sister, and unfortunately my daughter, heard me screaming about everything I endured with him for months and how I forgave him for the sexually explicit messages between him and SEVERAL women on Instagram. I continued to yell, scream and rant. I know I threw something, only I can’t remember what. My sister called our dad because she couldn’t get me to stop. When he returned, I calmed down and it was decided that I would come back and finish packing after he left for work. I apologized to my daughter for how I acted and told her that I didn’t mean to ruin her birthday. I had scared her and she was worried about me. Before she left for her weekend with her dad, I promised her I would have a place for us to go when she came back Sunday.

My dad, sister, cousin, a friend and I went back to The Mitch’s house after he left for work. His brother and sister in law were there to watch us. They were assigned to make sure my family and I didn’t damage the house or take things that didn’t belong to me. It made us feel like common criminals. I also learned that he only paid for the storage for two weeks. If I did not find a place to live and get my things out within that time, I would have to pay.

My head was spinning. So much had happened in such a short period of time. In June he helped plan my surprise birthday party. We planned a trip to Hawaii for our first anniversary. I had booked the rental car. He had plans to start a new business. I was supposed to design the logo and help him market it. We were having some problems, but I thought it was just the process of getting used to being married. We talked every night while he drove for work. He would always say how happy he was and he knew what he had at home. How there was nothing in the streets for him and that I was his best friend. Now here I am, facing a divorce and having to find a place for me and my children.

I stayed with my sister that night and planned to find a house or apartment the next day. That was just a day full of disappointment. At one point, I broke down and cried in the office at one apartment complex because nothing was going the way I planned. God bless the woman who showed me so much compassion that day. She listened, hugged me and helped me create a list of available properties. I will never forget her for the kindness and compassion she showed me.

Long story short, I did not find a place that weekend. My daughter and I stayed with my mom and stepfather. For two weeks, we lived out of bins, baskets and boxes while going to work and school. Within those two weeks, I got a text from someone I had not heard from in a little more than three years. I’d deleted the number, but I knew who it was the moment I read the text. It was him, the man I dated before I married The Mitch. He found out from a mutual friend what happened and wanted to help. He was a huge help to me. Not only was he there for me to talk to, he is the reason why I have my apartment today. He noticed the place across from him was available and was very nice. The landlord was working on it and he made sure I could come by and take a look. I fell in love the minute I walked through the door. There was nothing to hate about it — one car garage, fenced in backyard, three bedrooms, two baths and a spacious living room. This place was better than the house I was put out of. Don’t get me wrong, The Mitch didn’t have me living in squalor, but his home was in need of renovations to modernize it and optimize space.

Since the ex-boyfriend and I have reconnected, as friends only, he has been such a big help. We’ve watched movies together and even kept each other company during the aftermath of a hurricane. We text or talk daily. When we see each other outside, we always say, “Hi neighbor!” He has been through a divorce, so his insight on all I’m going through has been very helpful. He really looks out for me and I appreciate it more than I can really say. He’s the best ex-boyfriend/neighbor a girl could ask for.

Check out my Instagram page at @prettypettyparent for more.