Thank-you's (L and K)

It is almost a year later. In this year I have made more changes in my life than ever. Some days it feels as if I am going light speed, I cannot stop moving forward, even if I tried. 

While this light speed has allowed me to achieve many things in the last 11 months, sometimes I feel I haven't taken a moment to address things. I haven't taken the time to stop and say thank you to those who have helped me. To those who I owe my life. This life. 

While I don't know who has come across or commuted to reading these pages the next couple of posts I will say the thank you's I need to say. I know all of them know, through conversations, emails or intuition. 

But, I've always been one to need to write the important stuff down.

Best Friend L

 

You are the first person I told. Though by mistake. You had the guts to interrupt the situation. When I have been  the stupidest I have ever been, you knew I needed help and acted. I know you think you were doing what you were suppose to as a friend, you were fulfilling obligation. But there is no obligation. You could have walked away, gone to Best friend A's shower and not bothered with it. Turned a blind eye, like so many people do so often. Even now, you meet me only with support and love. You accept me faults and all. From the bottom of my heart you are one of the Kindest, most devoted people I know. Thank-you

Best Friend K

"You need to leave" is what you told me as we sat in your car in the driveway of my condo. I had just confessed why I could no longer stay. "Accidents happen, he could throw something..." You said as you gave me the same look you give your son. I knew everything you said was true.

I was you who came with my Mother, who put me in your car and took me somewhere safe. I don't know the conversations that happened that Morning. I don't know what you were feeling as you knocked on my apartment door. If you were afraid, or if you were facing it with the same focus that you approach motherhood. I can't imagine being there, the other side of the story. But I will never forget the feeling of seeing to people I love come in. At that moment, I wasn't alone in the story anymore. 

In the 10 years I've know you you have never judged me, you support my decisions even when I cannot. You are amazing and I cannot imagine my life without you. My life that is even better because of you. 

Thank-you. 

M

Las Vegas. Part I

A year ago I walked along Las Vegas Boulevard I had been married for less than four months. In those four months I had struggled to understand my new role, my expectations as a wife. I held my breath often knowing the frequency that I now met my Husband's rage. Something after the vows had changed. It went from bad to worse and for the first time standing there outside the MGM in the desert heat I realized it wouldn't get better.

The next day my girlfriends and I drove from Vegas to LA. Through Primm across the miles of sand and past the mountains. My face leaving makeup marks on the glass as I sat there in awe of a place I have always wanted to be.

I spent years of my life thinking I would grow up, move to LA without any other plan. It might not have been a reasonable dream. But I would have thought somewhere in my 25 years I would have taken time to see it. He didn't travel, especially not to a place like LA. There was nothing there for him so there was no need for us to go.

The mountains took my breath away, the palm trees swayed in the breeze and I sat there. We finally started seeing the city. Me still in the back seat. Face still pressed to the glass.

I always wanted someone who would take me to my dreams, or at very least join me. Someone who could be part of my adventure and I could be part of their's. I wanted to see these places, know what they were like. I didn't care if at the end of the day I hated it, I had to know. But to my Husband they were always stupid. A waste of money he worked too hard to spend on something like that. It didn't matter how many Icelandic tourism videos I watched alone in my room, we would never go.

In 2012 I decided I would go alone, wrangle the friends I could and go. So, I did. As I explored he became angrier.

I can pinpoint the moment, staring at the luxury homes build atop the mountain. Furious with myself that it had taken me this long to come. Knowing that for the first time in a long time I was having fun, without being afraid of what happened when my front door would close.

On Saturday we flew back. I knew I would go. I had no idea how to make it happen. The days after that trip I couldn't stand him, his voice made my hands shiver. The way he spoke to me made my gut wrench. Convinced that my withdrawn behaviour after my return was an indicator that I was cheating on him he grew angrier.

Eventually, the fighting became nightly. I went through cover up faster than a 13 year old girl. I cried when I was alone, staring out my window knowing that I couldn't do it anymore. That the decision I had made in Vegas had to stand and I had to ensure that I would never go back....

Looking Forward

It's been just over nine months. Sometimes I still dream about him. Ocassionally he is just present; a character in a story. Other times I dream of the hurt. But most often now my dreams are of me, the person I never thought I would know.  The woman the last nine months have carved, tumbled and twisted, finally smoothing.

I look forward more often than I look back. Often I catch myself struggling to remember the intricacies of my life with my Husband. The day to day life we shared has begun to fade into the background.

I'm excited for too many things to name in the coming months.  A new home, a vacation to somewhere I never thought I would get to see, tighter closer friendships with people I've missed.

I use to fuss over dreams I had. They were rare and I polished them in my mind until they were perfect. They seemed unattainable, like fairytales.  Now dreams pass through my head and become reality with such frequency that I need to write them down. Sometimes I fear this will stop, I will go back to living without purpose.

I know this won't happen. The last nine months have taught me to live for yourself. Love who you are. Push to achieve what you want and never stop believing in better. And that is just what I will do.

M

Understanding

This weekend I was at an elderly relative's funeral. In attendance was an extended part of the family I hadn't had the opportunity to see since my wedding. After the service the families gathered in my great aunt's apartment. One of my older relitives struck up a conversation and asked me how married life was.

I froze. Not normal deer in headlights freeze either. I sat ther staring like a child who just saw Santa,  and Santa had a flamethrower and a tiger. I actually had no idea how to react.

After what seemed like 2 hours of silence my Mother interrupted and politely told her Uncle I was seporated.

He looked at her bewildered than at me. Laughed and said "everyone needs to adjust"

If only I could have told him why.

I know I advocate telling everyone. That breaking silence is the solution to violence but sometime s telling your 88 year old great uncle your husband hit you isn't a great plan.

And there will always be those cases. Cases where you can't tell the whole truth. Instances where one story would justify your decision to leave, to make someone understand.

There will also always be those instances where you come clean and they still can't understand.

The important part for me is to know I made the right choice. To know safety is ultimately what matters. There will be  the handfull of people who can't understand. Often I feel the isolation of not knowing anyone else who has a story like me. Some days I find it impossible to believe that anyone but a survivour of this sort of life can understand.

Recently I had a conversation with Best Friend P about this. I had been frustrated and told him he couldn't understand. It took me a couple weeks to realize why this comment hurt him.

It is clear that in our lives we have all delt with hurt. Some physical, emotional, mental. Some lingering still. Everyone has that one path that hurt more than anything, some of us have lots. What I didn't understand is that just because Best Friend P had never been beaten he still understood.

He understands what it is like to hurt and not be able to make it stop. What it is like to not be okay.  How unfair the world feels and how alone, isolated and confused I feel, even on a good day.

He like my other friends understand the power of a hug. The benifit of a ear or a shoulder.

And even though my 88 year old uncle doesn't meed to know why my marriage ended. I know that when I make the decision to tell someone, to share details that even though they haven't walked my path somewhere along thier's is something that allows them to understand.

 

A View from the Other Side

A month ago I was in Cuba. A vacation from a crazy 8 months. Along with one of my best friends Lor we had taken the opportunity to lie in the sun, eat bad food and get away from everything.

It was Tuesday Night, I had already been asleep for some time when I heard the thumping, followed by the yelling. One way yelling, all I could hear was his voice filling our room like he was standing there. 

Suddenly my chest felt tight, I couldn't breathe or move. I sat there in the humid darkness not knowing what to do.

Do I call 911? Is there 911 in Cuba? Do I call the front desk?

Do I exit my room and interrupt the confrontation hoping that the presence of a stranger stops it?

But I couldn't move.

I wasn't sure if he was yelling at a woman, or a man. His Wife, Son, Daughter, Stranger?

So I laid there, paralyzed. My mind racing through scenarios. Still, I couldn't move.

I lied there awake listening, thinking that maybe if I heard a "help me", or a scream it would provide me the courage to act. I never heard a thing.

At some point I heard a second man's voice, stern and calm. Then there was silence. And I understood. Those times when I wondered why no one knocked on my door, why no one called the police it's not as easy as it seems.

Even now I feel guilty, I feel sorry for that person who was on the receiving end of that man's words. I feel for her/him as objects flew at them or fists punched the wall.

I'm sure my neighbors felt like I did, helpless, and confused at what was going on.