In my first year of University, I had befriended an older man in my Political Science class. In my second year, I had a student loan, but not all the classes I wanted to take were offered during the times I was available. I had decided that I was very much interested in International and Treaty Law and would perhaps like a career with the United Nations. I focused on taking classes that would advance this goal which happened to see me taking classes at Carleton University via shuttle bus from Ottawa U. Turns out that my friend, James was in the Navy and taking the same classes I was at Carleton U. We started meeting up for coffee and talking about world politics. We hung out often over my student career. James and I are still friends on Facebook; in fact, he’s the only person I remember from University.
Our apartment directly in front of the University didn’t last very long and Neall and I moved out in June or July just three or so months after we moved in. The landlady began thinking she was our mother and would just walk into our apartment without knocking on a regular basis. We found a large two bedroom on the second floor of a building with only three other apartments in it. The location was quite good. I liked the large window overlooking the park and I could still walk to school. I didn’t realize the $735 all-inclusive apartment was so cheap because we were now in “hooker’s row”. Oddly, it felt like the safest place in the city because there were always people around. I liked the location because it was also quite close to the Ottawa Market. Maman came and helped us paint the place after we moved in because I was in exams and I had been living with a three week migraine. I remember the pain was excruciating.
I also remember that because I hadn’t received my OSAP yet, and after I paid for the first and last months’ rent, I had no money left. Neall was still drinking and not working and I was panicking, I had never not had money. Neall had decided to apply for welfare while he “looked” for a job; I went to the office with him because we were married. I assumed they’d need me there. I remember part of the application was also a home visit, I can’t recall why, but I remember the social worker asking why I wasn’t applying also; I explained that I was waiting for OSAP. I also added that I was working part time; he said it wasn’t a problem that I could receive temporary assistance under the student umbrella of the program. Neall was told if he didn’t get a job by the time OSAP came through he would have to repay the amounts he collected. (This part is important because it wasn’t told to me or I didn’t hear the social worker say this to Neall.)
It was in this apartment, on Cumberland Street about a year after I married Neall that I realized our relationship was over except my degree was not finished and I didn’t know I could get divorced. At that moment, I wished that I had parents who actually cared about me. I wished that I had not needed to get married just to finish University. I thought I had to be married for the entirety of my degree. In fact, I could have divorced him 6 months after we wed. I wish I had known that then because my life would have certainly ended up far differently.
Our relationship slowly started going downhill because of the amount of drinking we were both doing, which inevitably led to a lot of fighting. Our Superintendent called the police once because one argument got very loud and violent. I didn’t know at the time that I was in a flashback, I just thought I was drunk and seeing shit. I was in my uncle’s basement and when Neall came to touch my hair I punched him then kicked him; he got really angry and then tried to grab me by the throat but we were near the front closet so I picked up his hockey skate when I ducked under his arm and threw it at his head. The blade embedded itself in the wall and I assume that’s when the Super called the cops.
The police came and separated us; the cop with me was really kind and he must have known that yes I was hammered but I was also in distress and he just talked to me until I was calm and knew where I was. No charges were laid which was fortunate because Neall already had a criminal record for assault.
Three weeks after moving into this apartment the bank repossessed the building and I thought they’d kick us out. We decided to move again, in November 1995 after we ended up finding a 3 bedroom, 2-bathroom house with backyard in Hull, Québec for $600 per month plus utilities. It was a great little house. I loved it there. I repainted the entire house, we put a patio in the backyard, my landlord came over and helped me plant tomatoes and he would visit me every day. I loved having a clothesline to dry the clothes.
My new Portuguese landlords thought we were the perfect couple! They also liked that I paid the rent for the entire year at once with my OSAP money. After my rent was paid, I filled my chest freezer with food – dairy, meat, anything perishable that could be frozen. I liked living in this house, it was like I had a real family, even though it was just Neall and I living there. I could see a family living here and I desperately wanted to have a family that loved and accepted me. I knew that it was something I would have to do myself.
The area at the time was predominantly Portuguese and they were very friendly, but none spoke much French or English. We all shared our specialities from homemade wine, to spicy crushed chili sauces, to whatever I was cooking that day. My neighbours grew Concord grapes and I made jelly and shared it with her and the local convenience store owner.
Living in Hull allowed me to live my ‘married-life’ fantasy and I decided I was just unhappy with Neall because there was something wrong and broken in me. I decided that I would be better and do better starting by being the perfect wife. I had no idea how to do that and set a schedule with a list of tasks; I started my day at 4:30 am and cleaned the entire house from top to bottom before walking to school across the bridge from Hull to Ottawa – about 4.5 km which took just under an hour. I prepared meals a few times a month and froze them for easy dinners throughout the month. I worked every day at various jobs accommodating my class schedule. I started going to class because in 3rd year, the classes were actually stimulating and I wanted to learn about the law and have coffee with James.
The convenience store owner had let Neall run a tab for alcohol, which I didn’t know about until he requested payment one day. Buying your booze at the corner store was certainly cheaper than drinking in a bar, but we definitely couldn’t afford $300. That was a lot of money back then.
This wasn’t the future I had imagined for myself and I realized that I had been right all along and I let this fantasy house come between me and my goal. My goal was a degree. I didn’t have it yet, but I would have it soon. Moreover, I knew I didn’t want to be married because this had never been a goal in my life; nor were children. I lost sight of what was important to me and I walked off the paved road and I wandered onto the gravel in heels. I wanted a good job, which could only be achieved with a degree. Then I wanted lots of money so I could travel and be a foster mom when I retired with my millions. Before I could do any of that, I needed to go to law school and be hired by the United Nations. This guy? This loser on the sofa who chain smoked, watched football, and got drunk every single evening was not the date I wanted on my arm at galas or the professional balls I imagined me, as Cinderella attending. I didn’t love Neall anymore. I didn’t hate him, I cared for him and knew I always would but I needed to get the fuck out.
Except, I couldn’t. I felt trapped. Trapped by my parents abandoning me for “having too much money” when the irony of it was:
· I needed to complete a degree they convinced me was required for my adult happiness and amazing career.
· A degree they told me they would pay for in exchange for my working in their business.
· A degree I didn’t want to begin with.
· A degree I would achieve to prove them I wouldn't fail.
One night we went to Le Bop, I was always happy when dancing and drinking. We couldn’t afford concerts now, but at least living in Québec meant expenses were more manageable than in Ontario. I’m not sure what happened, but Neall and I got into a huge argument and I left him there and went home. On my walk home, all my negative feelings from the week, the year, my life it seemed, came gurgling to the surface. I got home, collected all the bottles from the medicine cabinet, and put them all in a bowl. I grabbed some wine, pressed *94 on the phone to reduce the phone rings to 1, poured a bubble bath, stepped-in and started swallowing pills with wine. It was around 1:30 am.
I remember thinking, Maeve will be so pissed to find out I didn’t use a really sharp kitchen knife to slice UP the veins from my wrists to my elbows, like she told me to do if I was “serious and not an attention seeker”. Well, in fairness, I was OK with dying but I also wanted someone to help me. I knew I wasn’t well. I didn’t know what was wrong with me and I researched my symptoms of “I’m happy, I’m sad, I’m happy, I’m really sad and racked up my credit card, I’m floating on Cloud 9, I want to die.”
I felt the odds that I was Manic Depressive were quite high (pardon the pun) but at the present moment, I wanted my life to be over. I was exhausted and decided that if my own parents didn’t love me and could just walk away without a word, would anyone even notice if I died? Would anyone care? Would they show up to my funeral? Would they cry? Would they give a shit then? I decided to test a theory.
I passed out in the tub halfway through my ‘over dose’ of Imodium, Benadryl, and Tylenol and maybe some Cold and Sinus medication. I was too drunk to stay awake and swallow more than maybe 3 handfuls of pills. Fortunately none of what I had taken would actually kill me… or, maybe unfortunately depending on which character you are in this post. I woke up to Neall on the phone with my parents; like what was he doing? Why would he call them? He later said Maeve was cold about the entire thing and told him to just take me to Emerg to “have her stomach pumped; clearly this was a cry for attention” because I hadn’t succeeded and then hung up.
I wasn’t going anywhere except to bed.
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