|
|
Anniversary October 30, 2008 in Uncategorized | 2 comments Today is the day. A year ago is when I left in the middle of the night. I have mixed feelings that depend if it is dark or light outside. At night, with this cold snap, my body remembers what my mind has not dwelt upon. I shudder to remember his spit hitting my skin. I hear his voice with those terrible words condemning me, hating me. My head spins to catch movement out of the corner of my eye, involuntarily afraid. It takes deliberateness to continue walking forward through the night, reminding myself that I left in enough time. That we are safe. That we are free. That life is better. Once I’m inside, I sigh and thank God for wholeness, healing, and recovery. In the day, I turn my face up to the white sunshine and smile. The days are golden; there’s a bounce in my step. My children laugh and our days Know Joy. I’m in love and my skin remembers being kissed in places that had never known another’s lips, so soft, like a prayer. It’s amazing that parts of me were virginal even after a long marriage: that’s what happens when one man refused to touch and another embraces the entirety. I frequently sigh in contentment, feeling a glow radiate from deep within me. So many corners of life redeemed. The acknowledgment of a year’s passing will not be anything notably significant. We will trick-or-treat and carve pumpkins. We will laugh. We will eat and share with neighbors. Children will run off their sugar-highs in cool grass under starlight and sleep in peace. I will probably make long love to that miracle of a man and awaken to fresh coffee and a hot breakfast. My parents will relax. It will be what we never had: Normal. That is more profound than a thousand sentimental ceremonies could ever be. Quietly I will add a bead to the chain I’ve been building, the moon count, the notches of healing that I’ve traced. It feels like relief, a long walk through open space and fields, arms raised and face smiling, unafraid. I feel a small urge to dance in bare feet. October 22, 2008 in Uncategorized | 2 comments Here’s what I know to be true: when one has buried their truth about enzyte child there is never again any loss that is consuming. The knowledge that loss is survivable reigns and lends a certain amount of perspective. That said, I really tried not to let you go. You are a house with more history than I. An old place that I cleaned and cared for and painted. A lawn I mowed, a garden I grew. For a long time this year you were tangible hope because I left you and everything in you in the dead of night and you were still there. I was almost shot trying to bring my children back to you. I left and you were abandoned and you stood as a wooden monument in the valley that some things lasted longer than circumstance. As long as you nestled there, I felt hope that I’d get you back, that I’d get some part of myself back. Maybe I’d still have a chance to live where I could breathe the best and savor the seasons and have my own home. And then it was granted and you became tangible redemption. What had been locked was now open. I rocked on the porch and breathed prayers of gratitude for the soft wood beneath my feet and the smell of my flowers blooming. Returned To Me, you were. But it was only partial. The thing is with brutes like him, the kind that pushes their wives down the stairs and follows her around with a stick of firewood in his hands; the kind that turns the yard into a graveyard of animals except for the one he left out to rot and the kind that Prays After Beating also knows how to push in the passive sense. He decided no one would get you and so it will be. Twelve months later I’m broken from trying and can’t keep it on and so he will have his way one more time. You will sit amid long grasses. Your windows will stay cold and ghosts will grow. Someday maybe an auction will be had and your history will continue, because you will last longer than this circumstance. I hope it will be a family that will love you. Maybe they will finish the project I left undone. Maybe they will have a Christmas tree and hang a porch swing. Old Alice could come by and tell tales of her childhood there. And maybe someday I’ll have another house again as well. My things are still floating; they will leave you and find new temporary places, like me. My mother says, “this came to pass not to stay”. I want something to stay. It would be nice to have something as permanent as you, Old Blue House; some nest in the valley with home lights. I have held you loosely and now will let you go. Soon the tears won’t come quite so quick and I’ll move on; that’s the way of life. Thank you for your gracious hospitality. September 17, 2008 in Uncategorized | No comments He breaks my stereotype. He was a homeschooling father, a bookish type who threw the football in the yard and made cheesy eggs. That was on good days. On bad days he beat them for not getting their math problems right and berated me for not breathing right. We were never puritan enough for him. But still…I am constantly amazed at how surprised I get when he fails to show up. It was a fucked up year you know? Suicide attempts and police involvement and going into hiding and psycological evaluations. No contact for 8 months with his children and then only supervised. Very little child support, checks that bounce, and spotty appearance at that. And now phone calls that he fights vehemently to have and then fails to show up for, emails full of historical yammering and argument bait. He put so much effort into sounding right, into protecting his rights, into whatever ideal he thinks the world should support for him. And then, when an inch is granted, he backs completely away by a mile. He’s brooding again and escalating. He’s goes on at length about what an excellent father he is and how he will soon be able to have daily involvement again. It’s a land of his own creation, this place where he spends his time; so far from reality it’s laughable sometimes only it’s not that funny. Our guard is back up, safety plans in place, because this is never a good sign. Yesterday I high-tailed it to an unplanned therapy session. I needed some perspective on the barraging emails he’s been sending. It’s so freeing to hear, “refuse to read it. Scan it quickly and return it unread, with a statement that you need a succinct request”. It’s a good boundary to have. But it’s also the kind that infuriates him. I see how little he has moved on, how he is trying to “level”, how insecure he is. So pathetic. I hate seeing this process play out on my children’s faces. One child has intestinal stress any time he has to speak to him. Another gets angry, the other aloof. And the baby gets hyper and says he misses Daddy over and over again. It’s been good that I never fight with him anymore; he gets only the plainest replies specifying dates and times from me. For someone looking to interact over anything it must be frustrating. But my life is full and vibrant these days; I finished fighting him a long time ago. It’s not tempting to argue with him. It is, however, still very stressful knowing where he is in his cycle and knowing my kids are still vulnerable to it. I wish there was an end in sight. August 25, 2008 in Uncategorized | 1 comment Sunday was the day wherein my ex-husband (and oh the joy I feel at being able to call him that!) asked me the first question about the kids in at least a year, if not longer. The impetus went like this: they had a supervised visit with him a week before that went well because they didn’t have to travel far, weren’t disrupted from their routine, and he behaved. I’d sent an email encouraging that he choose that same time slot next time because they’d done so much better (and had a shorter recovery time) and he asked, “How did they do better? Explain.” And so I sat and looked at my screen for a few moments taking it in. Of course, there is that command attached to the end…but I ignored it. He has not asked me, the custodial parent and these babies’ mother, a direct question about how or what they are doing in any kind of recent memory. I chose not to analyze and just answer. It went like this: |