As I mentioned in my previous post, my gap year was really rough. I was very unsure what to do after my undergraduate. All of Amin's talk about getting your life started really got to me. This was part of his reason for thinking that he could never return to Canada: it would take too much time, and he wanted to get things moving for his life, like building a career and a family. I had all but convinced myself that I needed in the next couple of years, to have a career myself. In the end, I decided to accept the offer of an MA at University of Toronto only because I realised it was a no-lose scenario. If I still wanted to go into an MA later where I could walk out onto the job market after two years, I could (I had been rejected from that program in my round of applications in my gap year.) If I wanted to teach in the Cégep system after my MA, then I would be able to do so as well. I could also go on to the PhD level if I really liked where I was. All three paths were a good scenario, depending on what I wanted at the end of the MA year, and I would be applying from a stronger position with an extra degree under my belt no matter what I chose. It was a no-lose scenario.
It is when I moved to Toronto that I met Charlie. In fact, he made quite an impression when I visited for recruitment in the spring of my gap year. I was so relieved at being shown around by a current student; it took away much of my anxiety of being in a new place and being quasi-interviewed about my academic interests and what my decision (yet unmade) would be. When I first arrived for the MA proper, I tried to avoid running into Charlie: he was so high-energy that sometimes it would tire me to be around him. I soon ended up speaking to him daily and seeing him frequently; we did live across the street from each other in residence. He was the most intellectual person I had ever met, possibly even still, and I liked that very much about him. I remember how Étienne told me that seemed an appropriate match for me when he met Charlie. Our research interests were similar, so we had a lot to talk about. I was still discovering what I should work on in graduate school, so Charlie was eager to mold me into a scholar in his area of study. I still owe him a lot in terms of learning the vocation of what it is to be a scholar, and for getting me started.
It was clear very early on how he was interested in me. I was still crying weekly over Amin, so I was not in the frame of mind to date. I remember early in my degree going to a choral concert, a mashup of many different Broadway songs. It came up recently in my facebook memories in fact; I heard for the first time the lyrics in the Broadway version of "Think of Me" from Phantom of the Opera, and I posted them: "Recall those days, look back on all those times, Whatever else you choose to do, There will never be a day, When I won't think of you!" I really believed that at the time; I was still thinking of Amin daily and missing him dearly. Charlie, however, cheerful as ever, kept coming back and trying, like a puppy who is just always happy, carefree, and ready to see if you will spend time with them. I know I am glossing over a lot here, but I was pretty direct with him at one point about just wanting to be friends, something I quickly undid one month later when feelings appeared for me.
He had asked me to see a baroque music concert at which one of our mutual friends was performing. It was a really nice evening, and I determined to tell him that I had started feeling differently about our relationship. I felt like a first-class idiot, like I did with Amin. Charlie had told me, in order to make me feel safer, that dating within the department was not a good idea. So I told him that I understood that, but I had developed feelings for him, so now what? I thought it took no one by surprise more than myself, because I had gone from thinking about Amin all the time, to not thinking about him anymore, and thinking about Charlie. This upset me, as I had hoped to get over Amin in my own time, but sometimes you don't choose how these things happen. Charlie, however, was completely stunned. He hardly knew what to say. He started babbling on about: was I really sure? I could have my pick of anyone in Toronto; our department was big. Was I really sure I wanted to date him? His insecurities were talking, because he had never had his affections reciprocated before. I was his first girlfriend. I tried probably not aptly to explain that I was interested in him, not in anyone else. We started dating from that moment, that perfect quiet moment sitting together in a chapel at his college.
Charlie's lack of confidence, however, was only the tip of the iceberg. By the end of his first year of the PhD, he was burnt out, something not uncommon in our program. He was worked up about passing one of the exams in our department, and spent most of the summer preparing for that. It felt a bit like tug of war trying to get him to spend time with me too while he was studying. After he got through the exam, I told him that it was a deal breaker for me for him to just disappear off the face of the earth like that agian. I know I tried to get him into therapy at that point. He did not feel that he needed it, however. I should have taken my hint and left then, but I loved him deeply and wanted to keep trying.
By now, I was in the PhD program too, just a year behind him. At the end of my second year, we moved in together. He promised me that it would not be like those times I had stayed with him in residence during the summer. He told me it would be better when there was room for two people, something I had no doubt of. He told me he wanted to be more settled and less out till all hours of the morning at the pub. He told me he wanted to be more responsible and keep his space. I wanted to believe him. There was only one way to find out if he was going to keep his word, I thought: move in with him and see how it is. We fought about what we wanted in an apartment, and for a moment, I thought we would never agree. We picked a great place in the end, and were both very happy with it. I ignored all of the signs.
When we lived together, it was like pulling teeth to get him to contribute to the household. He wanted to argue with me about how often something needed to be cleaned. He did not believe me when I said that you could not spray chemical cleaners in a microwave. Everything was a struggle. I cooked and cleaned around him and could not get him to do things like pick up his books and socks which were everywhere. He also told me that I was creating so much stress for him that I was slowing down his progress on his dissertation. Finally, in a last ditch attempt, I got us into couples counseling. The first thing he was told was that he needed a therapist to deal with things that came up in the couples sessions. I had gotten him into therapy at last. But none of this lasted.
I was in my fourth year of my PhD when I burned out. I had been burned out before, but this was one of the most severe since I had first been diagnosed with CFS. I had tried to maintain momentum after my qualifying exams, which came on the back of a year with a concussion and trying desperately to get through the exam which allowed me to take the qualifying exam, and therefore allowed me to stay in the program. So many people fall off the cliff after qualifying exams in my department, and I was so determined not to be one of them. I started running tutorials for the first time that fall, and tried to brush up on some Italian in preparation for a semester abraod in Rome. When I got to Rome, I was so sick, I could not get out of bed. I was nauseated all the time, and had all kinds of migraines. I was just sleeping through the days. I knew I was not ready for a four month intensive. I crawled back home to Montreal to my parents' to rehabilitate. I knew that if I were in Toronto with Charlie, I would not recover. He was also very angry at me for not doing the program in Rome. He was not supportive of my decision to return home. It was incredibly hurtful.
I had my moment when I was at home recuperating when it died for me. Charlie started reflecting on how poorly he was treated and how I would have to "win him back." More than this, though, he told me that my behaviour towards him was abusive. That was the moment. This was the lose-lose scenario. If I argued with him and told him that I was not in fact abusive, I would feed into the paradigm of the abuser who denies it. If I accepted this assessment that I was abusive, then the relationship needed to end anyway because I was an abuser. There was no coming back from this. The irony is that, now I realised that I had to leave, I had to enact a safety plan. Charlie had said to me on two occasions before that he "knew himself" and that he would want to be mean to me if I ever left him. He said he would want to hurt me; I know this meant psychologically, not physically. He told me he would want to steal my books, and that he would want to sabotage my career. Because of this, my therapist recommended that I talk to the Campus Safety office, and I know that was the right move. They helped me to develop a safety plan to extricate from the apartment.
I was about two months or so back in Toronto before my moving date. In that time, I tried to enjoy my last moments with Charlie, whom I still loved dearly. I just knew that this was not working, and that things were becoming more toxic by the day, and that I needed to leave. I picked the time that was easiest for me, and I told Charlie I was leaving the day that I moved out. He was devastated. I had help packing up my things, and we left that same day. My Dad drove me back home to Montreal and I was sure it was the absolutely wrong decision. I felt so sick leaving my life with Charlie behind I was sure I was going to throw up. My therapist told me that if it was a good idea to get back together with Charlie, it would still be a good idea in a couple of months. This really helped me. It was so hard for me to leave Charlie and give up on our relationship. But I needed to do it.
Over the summer and the next few months, all I wanted to do was fix things with Charlie. We met at summer conferences, and at first he refused to speak to me, as he had any other time I had contacted him. We were sharing a bathroom in adjoining rooms at the first conference, and he refused to speak to me the first few days. I just wanted to be able to be on good terms with him, and yes, ultimately to fix things. He was favourable, and then not, and then favourable again. Despite being yelled at, being locked out of the apartment we both still held a lease on, being berated, having our conversation recorded in case he needed to sue me, and him refusing for a long time to return some of the things I left at the apartment, I still wanted nothing more than for things to work out. I asked him before I left for Rome again to do the program I hadn't managed to the previous year if he wanted to talk about where we were at. He said "no."
It was 2020. Without knowing it, I had ended up in the epicentre of Covid in Europe: Italy. I was still messaging Charlie, and I think he got to hear how I was repatriated to Canada with help from UofT's service InternationalSOS. After that, it was radio silence, as it still is now. I see him sometimes at the library, or at department events, and he refuses to speak to me. He passes by me quickly, or at worst, hops across the room when I try to speak to him. I was incredibly hurt by this at first. I used to cry about it, and just to shake from the stress. Now I am at ease with it, because I do not want to fix things anymore. It just took a very long time to get to that point.
This is the very condensed version, and again, it eclipses many things. It does not adequately convey the good things that Charlie did for me, and that our relationship was like before things started going downhill. I did not even get to talk here about Charlie's drinking habits, which were a serious source of contention for us. I just wanted some of the essentials to be here: how the dynamic developed from something good into something harmful, and how hard it was for me to let go. I was ashamed for a long time that I had ended up in a relationship that had turned abusive. The fact of the matter is, it can happen to anyone. It can develop, like it did for me, or it can be abusive from the start, just so insidious it takes a long time to see it. The best thing you can do for yourself is not to be too hard on yourself for finding yourself in this situation. The most important thing you can do is leave as soon as you are able. I was not able to leave very quickly, to my detriment, but I did leave, and that is what matters.
Again, my hope is that these words will help someone else who is going through something similar. This will not be the last post about Charlie, just the first: the essential outline to give readers context for further thoughts and feelings.
