~Monday, July 06, 2009


Scott called me while I was at work on Thursday. Actually a strange number called me and when I picked it up, it was Scott. It was another, "I just wanted to say hey" thing. Pretend like nothing happened.

I told him it was inappropriate for him to call me while I was at work. I was trying to start a new job with new coworkers that didn't need to know my past. He said he had been trying to reach me this week, but had been unsuccessful (which explains the 4 missed calls the night before from phone numbers that closely resemble the rehab center's main number).

He just started in with the lies again. His step-mother had called me the previous weekend to tell me that Scott had been diagnosed with pneumonia and that his mother drove to rehab to drop off money for him for his prescriptions. I've had pneumonia, I told his step-mother. Actually I had walking pneumonia. And I felt so horrible that it was a struggle to lay in bed. Every time I coughed I cried because it hurt so much. There was no way I could have enough energy to walk myself to the hospital in 100° heat like he claims he did.

"Yeah, I have pneumonia," Scott tells me. "The doctors say I got it from sitting in the waiting room and not washing my hands."

"Um, you can't catch pneumonia from not washing your hands. It's a fluid build-up in the lungs. It doesn't work like that," I informed him.

"Well the doctors say it's the flu slash pneumonia."

"The flu slash pneumonia?"


"There's no such thing."

"Well the doctors wrote it down in my chart like that!" his voice got higher in earnest.

"They wrote down the flu slash pneumonia?"


"No they didn't."

Then I realized I fell for it and I was back in the old pattern. Through lying, Scott was at least getting me to interact with him, even if it was just arguing. I stopped and told Scott I didn't think we should talk unless the conversation is being supervised in a therapy setting.

"Why?" he demanded.

"Because you are in rehab!" I exclaimed.

"Why does that mean I have to be supervised?"


"So you won't talk to me unless I'm being supervised because I'm so fucked up." He said quieter, obviously hurt.

"Scott," I breathed. "You are in an in-patient facility and plan to be there for at least a year. You don't do that unless you have problems. I don't know how to sugarcoat the fact you are in rehab."

Again I told him I needed to get off the phone. I am at work and I already know people heard me. Afterwards, I called his counselor at rehab and explained to him the situation and asked if Scott should be calling out with such regularity and isn't there a point in treatment when approaching friends and family is done properly.

The counselor asked when Scott last called me and I said 20 minutes ago. He then informed me that Scott wasn't even at rehab, but at the hospital for a tooth that may or may not be broken. That explained the strange number. He insinuated that Scott is avoiding treatment by making up excuses to leave and go to the hospital. I told him Scott's teeth have always been broken and asked about the the flu slash pneumonia. "He went to the hospital last week for congestion, that's all," he told me.

Scott avoiding treatment by spending the tax payers' dollars at the hospital for fake illnesses just brought me to a whole new level of anger with him.

The counselor asked if I wanted Scott calling me. "You know what? No," I said. "Not unless it is in a therapy setting."

"If it even gets to that point," he responded.

I was miserable when I got off the phone. I was fine at work until he called and now I felt like I was a big ball of energy. And then I remembered that my new coworkers heard my original phone call and teared up. I didn't want them to know anything bad about me so they would like me, and now they know I have a crazy ex-boyfriend in rehab. Tears rolled down my cheek.

One lady saw me cry and ran to my desk. "Please don't feel bad," she comforted. "I've had to go in the boss's office many times to talk to lawyers about my divorce. You feel awful about living at home with your parents? Well I'm 45 and living with my parents with my child because I have a crazy ex-husband."

Another girl approximately my age rolled her chair over to face me. "You live with your parents? Me too except I have a 2-year-old and I have to pay palimony to my ex-husband because he was a loser with no job when I left him. We all have crazy exes, please don't let it bother you."

"Besides, no one is in the office today because of the holiday. We were the only two people to hear you anyway," said the first lady.

It was enough for me to stop crying. I reached in my desk and pulled out my emergency make-up bag and went to the ladies room and put on a full face of make-up. With a fresh face I felt a lot better.


gekkogirl said...

Oh crikey. Let's hope the calls stop. I hope that you will see from those two women's reactions that people won't judge you because Scott is mad. Its Scott that is mad, not you...and people don't have to know anything anyway.

lots of love xxx

Lauri said...

Everyone has issues to deal with - I hope you can see now that no one is judging you - in fact they seem pretty supportive...Scott is learning nothing - absolutely nothing - about how to deal with his situation - he's still manipulating the system to his benefit and will probably be an addict the rest of his life...you are so lucky to be out of that situation - talking with him takes you back to a very dark place - keep moving forward, girl - you get better and better with each passing day...

J said...

I do hope that the calls stop. And at least you bonded with your new co-workers a bit...even if it had to be over crazy exes.

Erin said...

I'm sorry that you still have to deal with Scott. I hope that was the last interaction you have with him.

Pip said...

It seems like he had a case of bull slash shit. The symptoms can be similar to flu slash pneumonia, though. :P

Blue soup said...

I agree with the others, but I also wanted to add that your coworkers soundlovely and that would have made me cry even harder!!

MamaBear said...

If he calls again, hang up. Really, just hang up. (It took me a long while to wrap my mind around that concept. But it's a relief, trust me.) He doesn't need to be calling you, and you don't need any contact with him, at all. He's poison, and he won't change, because he doesn't want to. You, on the other hand, have the rest of your life to live. So live. :-D

Curvy girl said...

Sounds like you are working with some kick-ass women that just might become the kind of friends you need to get past this horrible piece of your life.

I agree that you should just hang-up should he try and call. Hopefully, at some point he will get the message and stop calling.

Lpeg said...

I hope, for your sake, the calls stop. And I'm glad that you realized you were just going back down that road with him and caught yourself. The boy needs help, that much is obvious. I just hope that he lets them help him.

dont eat the token said...

Your co-workers are good peeps!

My fantasy for you would be to never speak to Scott again... even with a counselor present.

Keep healin', you (we all!) deserve a happy chance :)

Anonymous said...

my mom and i were walking along the beach monday and she looked over at me and said, "do you know anyone that doesn't have problems?" and you know what? honestly? i don't.

AmyB said...

Oh, I'm so glad you have those nice coworkers to validate you -- see? You really aren't ever alone! So sorry he called and made you upset. Hopefully that won't happen again!

Croaker said...

I am glad others came forward at told you their stories. We are never alone in dealing with such things.

You should be proud that you are moving forward and it sounds like you have new potential friends to lean on.

Paige Jennifer said...

Pardon the bluntness but....

Delete. Get a new cell phone number. Don't communicate with him or his counselor. He is a grown man with his own issues, none of which are your burden. The only person you should be stressed about right now is YOU. And as my wise shrink says, it's harder to heal yourself when you're still standing in the battlefield.

Note: this is said with love (and pride for how far you've come these last few months)


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