I sat across from him and listened to him utter words. I knew he was talking about the boys and he finally found the strength to muster a smile, yet I found myself thinking of an entry I wrote months ago. Two months and eleven days ago to be exact. I wanted to revisit that specific time, that moment, when I sat aimlessly in front of the computer just drowning for air. I wanted to remember what it felt like to be in his same position of desperation, begging for God to make him see that all I wanted was a little appreciation; just the tiniest ounce of encouragement and empathy. As I sat across him in the hopes of feeling empathy, I simply could not. I am furious. Enraged. How could he push me to this point? I am angry at myself for allowing it, angry at myself for still feeling sorry for him, and angry that I am this angry! I cannot fathom how anyone could be as infuriated as I am, yet still so giving of the heart. I cannot comprehend why anyone would challenge me in such a way that would build a wall so high it cannot be broken; and all the while, he was given more than fair warning... I trust in time, God will help me see. For now, I remain alone with my thoughts, building walls, and allowing only those who have not pained me, in.
The history is what really gets me. To know that those years were spent with one thought in mind: to build a happy, meaningful life for us and our children, in a home filled with carefully chosen pieces of furniture and wall art to light up our lives each time we set foot inside. How I loved our home. It was the one place I always felt safe and so comfortable. I can recall moments when I would look around and everything was right. Each light touched just the right spot on each wall, which in turn allowed the house to glow in such a way that comforted the deepest depths of my soul; and as I'd hear the children's laughter fill the air, I was so proud of the life we made for us and how far we had come. I miss those days so, so much.
I sit alone in the chilling breeze, cigarette in hand, and I reminisce. I think back; recalling the last five months of unending mental, emotional, and verbal abuse. I am so broken. I never wanted to stop trying. I continuously fought to see the day when I would possibly relive the beautiful memories I have so meticulously etched in my mind. But the hurt just never stopped. I was begging and pleading for one -- just one breath of fresh air. I yearned and cried to feel as if my efforts were not in vain. But that day never came. He pushed and pushed. Kicked me when I was already on the ground. One day I decided I simply had enough. With three beautiful boys to care for, alongside the battle of loneliness he was facing, I had no energy left for me. As selfless as most would see my efforts to be, the recognition that mattered most was so far out of reach. I could only carry so much and I could only do it for so long. I needed help. Some kind of relief from the man that was supposed to me my partner, my teammate through this walk of life. I didn't choose to be left alone raising our children. I never asked for the separation. Not once did I say I wanted for my life to consist of days carrying out the role meant to be played by two, or nights sleeping alone. Yet, I suffered his wrath, caused by a resentment he had towards the career he chose, insecurities I could not control, a distrust so strong it stabbed like a knife, and a jealousy nothing could compare. I simply supported his every decision thinking we were in it together. I was sadly mistaken. I was all alone, carrying all the burden, trying with all my might to keep it all intact. These characteristics of jealousy and the need to control were not new ones. They were there from the beginning. The distance and separation merely allowed for them to be taken to the utmost extreme imaginable; and as I came to the realization that he was capable of such extremities, I knew I no longer wanted that life.
As much as I would like to try, I cannot see myself ever giving my hundred percent. I can no longer trust that he will have my best interests at heart, because he could not, not even for one day, put my feelings of hurt before his own. My walls are unbreakable. And as I have found a new sanctuary in those that were there to see and hear it all, I have also entrusted my heart to those that have made a conscious effort to comfort, trust, and pick me up when I could no longer stand. I fear that our boys will resent me, thinking I gave up without a fight; or that they will think having a family intact wasn't important enoug to me, or that they weren't good enough to keep us together. I pray with my all that one day they will understand. I pray one day they will remember how hard I tried. Today, and long before today came, I have been drained of all my efforts.
It is only in moments when I am reminiscent of the memories we share that I cry of hurt. I cry with a hurt unlike any other because I wish it didn't have to come to this. It is inevitable that although I look forward to the future and making new memories, it is indescribably difficult to let go of the ones in the past, for they were so sweet and pure. Though the history may be forgotten one day, the memories I will hold in my heart and mind... Forever.
