Sometimes the hardest part about letting go is realizing that you made a mistake in holding on. As I look back and reflect on my failed marriage I realize that I held on for all the wrong reasons.
I held on in fear of the unknown. I held on because that life was what I was familiar with. I held on because I didn’t want to be seen as a failure in the eyes of everyone else. I held on because I made the choice to do so. I made the choice to sacrifice year after year of my life in the hopes that he would change or that the circumstances would change. At times I felt the social and economical pull swaying me to stay.
I realize after all this time that people don’t change & circumstances don’t change unless someone is willing to stand up and fight for the change. I got tired of waiting for that change to happen. I saw my marriage for what it was: a failure.
I held on for hope for too long thinking that if we moved that we could start over or if i got a better job things would improve. Year after year there was excuse after excuse as to why I hadn’t left yet. It finally hit me on what my dad meant when he would say “you can wish in one hand, piss in the other and see which ones fills up first”
I wasted years hoping and hoping that things would just magically change. Little did i realize was that all i was doing was enabling an abuser. When it finally hit me that I had wasted all this time with a relationship that was going no where i knew i had to get out.
Some days i feel my world is crumbling around me and i question the choice i made to leave. Those are the days i am at my lowest and can’t seem to dig myself out of the despair i am in. Those are the days i make the choice to not let tomorrow be like today.
Other days i am completely satisfied with the choice i made. I realize that overall i am more at peace with myself and the relationship i am building with my beautiful daughter.
My only hope is to have her grow up to make the right decisions despite the outside influences. I hold out hope for humanity and for her future.
Manipulation…..it is a part of every day life; no matter how big or how small. At a young age we learn to manipulate those around us into getting what we want. As infants we learn that crying, sad faces and fussiness will get us what we want. As toddlers/children we learn that temper tantrums and tears will badger our parents into getting us our new toy, pet, movie etc etc.
Some people grow out of that stage and realize that manipulation, although the easiest route, isn’t always the smartest. Then there are those who never grow up. Those are the ones that grow up to believe that the world owes them and that they have to fight tooth and nail against everyone around them to succeed in life. They don’t care who they hurt or who they have to screw over just to get one step further ahead.
I have had the misfortune of falling for one of those who never grew up in 2002. It started off innocently enough. Instead of being asked for a suggestion for what was for dinner, it was a command. Being in the honeymoon faze it was easy to overlook and was dismissed as a “bad day at work” which caused the rudeness. Instead of putting my footup his buttdown and not tolerating that behavior, I made excuses to justify his behavior. (That was my mistake)
Before I could really think about it, he had taken over control of my money, my social life, my day to day life decisions etc. I had turned into an anxious depressed nervous wreck; always worrying about what he would say or think if I made the “wrong” decision.
When I had made a tentative decision to leave in 2005 (3 years after we started dating), I found out I was pregnant. Again, I made the mistake of justifying his actions and his treatment of me. I let my fear of being a first time mom raising a newborn alone, force me to stay. I believed that if I told him I was pregnant that things would change for the better. Boy was I ever wrong.
While I was pregnant his attitude improved. For a while I thought that I had made the right decision in telling him about the pregnancy and staying. Shortly after I gave birth his true colors showed. One of my close friends Donna*, who was also a mom, informed him that I was showing signs of PPD (Postpartum Depression). Instead of helping me by making sure my OB knew about this, he dismissed her concerns and decided to take advantage of the situation.
In the years that followed I was subjected to verbal, emotional and psychological abuse.Wehe decided that I should be a stay-at-home mom by stating that child care is expensive (which it is) and that it would be pointless to work seeing that he believed my entire paycheck would go towards child care alone.
Being a stay-at-home mom, I thought it was only right to “pull my weight” by doing laundry, cleaning etc etc. Yet every day when he got home from work I was subjected to petty criticism….the shirts on the hanger weren’t all facing the same direction…..the pants weren’t hung up over the hanger exactly in half…..So I continued to try to be the “perfect” stay at home mom/wife. Nothing I did was ever good enough.
6 years later, every relationship I have is driven out of fear and anxiety. I’m still trying to learn to put my needs and the needs of my daughter first. I’m still learning how to make my own decisions without worrying about what someone else will think or say. In 2011 I met someone who has changed my life for the better. He has had the strength and courage to stick by my emotional fears and severe anxiety. Between him and my bestie I have managed to pull myself out of the emotional darkness I was put in to. Now I just have to find my way around the light.
*Actual names changed for privacy sake*
Things aren’t always what they seem. That seems to be the theme of my life, the guys I’ve dated and the last 10 years of my life that I thoughtlessly blew on a poor excuse of a marriage that was doomed from the start.
I am hoping through this blog that I can share my experiences and bring comfort to those who are going through what I have gone through. I plan to share the good the bad and the insanely funny about my life. Read on; make comments.
2 years ago this November I almost lost my life by my own hands. It wasn’t the first time that I had tried to end my life, but it was the last. 2 years have passed. I have a six month old daughter and a perfect relationship with the man who saved my life that night. I am happy now. My scars are a part of me and will always remind me of the struggles I once had, but I know I will never again allow myself to reach that point. If you ever feel like you can’t take it anymore, reach out, ask for help, call the suicide hotline: 1-800-273-8255. #nationalsuicidepreventionday
This is amazing. You’re all supposed to be here, no matter what.
…it’s in every relationship. Everything is going great….things are all bubbles and roses….you couldn’t be happier….then BAM reality sets in and the honeymoon stage is over. Life gets in the way and love fades. You hang around hoping things will change for the better and go back to the smiles flowers and laughs. Days of hoping turn into weeks…weeks turn into months and months into years. The next thing you know, you’ve blown 10 years of your life hoping and wishing; for what? All to be a single mom with no sense of what you want or how to start over. The hum drum and grind of life has now turned into a whirl wind of emotions and doubt. Sometimes I look back on the honeymoon stage and think about how wonderful life is…makes me almost want to date again…..almost…..then I reflect on the last 10 years and shudder. The only good thing that came from my marriage was my daughter. Maybe I’m starting to doubt that romantic love exists….ok not “maybe”…I have been doubting it. It’s all the “honeymoon” stage that is so enticing…..