December 10th, 2006

The day after.

I was reminded of this in a conversation before work.

December 9th, 2006:

I knew my marriage was over before then.

But never in a million years did I believe I could have married a monster.

Everytime I enter into anything serious, it’s in the back of my mind.

I feel as if I were a toxin.

I bring the best out of people.

I bring out the worst.

The evening before was the most horrific event of my life.

My husband was moving my things upstairs.

Separation full and complete.

As best as we could while still living together at least.

I cried.

I didn’t know what was about to happen though.

He set up my desk in the other room upstairs.  He stood there and looked at me.

We hadn’t had sex in months.

He looked across at me with dead eyes.

I asked “Are you doing this because you really love me and want the best for me.. even if it’s not you?”

Then he kissed me.

I asked him “Why are you doing this? Do you love me ?  Do you love me?”

He pushed me against the wall, pulled down my pants and put himself inside me.

I told him, “No.  I only want to have this with love.   Do you love me? Do you love me?”

He continued.

Put me on the floor and kept going until I put my hands over my face, curled into a ball and cried.

I was reminded of that night this morning.

I could visualize it and relive it.

The sound.

The quiet.

The tears.

I fell apart that night.

I was a doe in headlights.

The person I was supposed to trust with everything.  The man I gave my life to… been vulnerable with… bore children with…

violated me in the worst way possible.

I was an absolute mess back then.

He stopped and went downstairs.

When I asked why he did that, he said “Because I wanted to have sex and figured you did too.  But that was all it was.. I don’t love you…and didn’t want to complicate things”

December 10th, 2006:  The day after.

I’d seen this piercing on one other person online.  It wasn’t common.  I previously had nothing done beyond my ears.

I thought it looked like tears.

I vowed after that night that I would never let anyone make me feel like I did that night.  I wasn’t going to cry anymore.

And that’s why I have my antibrow pierced.

It was a cheers to my new found independence… to the struggles I have been through… to the tears that I’ve cried. I’m stronger now. They’re not going to weigh me down.

It is my visual reminder of where I’ve been.  Of the roads I walked.  Of poor decisions.  Of finally making the right decisions.

Of steps forward.

Of steps back.

Of steps towards a future of opportunities.

Perhaps it wasn’t so bad I was reminded about this this morning.  Because it wasn’t until that day that I remembered how much it was to feel alive.  How I was never going to deal with that shit again.

Perhaps… it’s time to push myself even harder again and remember that day of strength.

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Because of his disdain

Eight months have passed since I’ve seen them last.  This is a pattern.  A horrific unchanging sequence.

It’s been almost 3 years.  The ’09 looms carefully creeping up slow. slow. slow. faster faster faster faster.

He wants to forget me.  And I struggle for some sort of acknowledgment that I exist.  He’s kept me from them.  He’s keeping me from them.

Last night I was accompanied by a bottle of wine as I held back the tears.

I find myself in the same place I was when it first happened all those years ago- at a desk, in front of a computer, writing to the air.

It’s Thanksgiving.  I’m thankful.  But there is this longing in me that yearns paramount.  I don’t need anything than the air and some pen and paper, but yet I feel incomplete.

Pieces of me. A faded memory of what I once was.

Evolved. Stronger.  Ever pressing.

He will not conquer me.

I’m getting dressed now.  It’s almost family time. Of cranberry sauce, turkey, stuffing, and sides of hypocrisy.

Two ghosts shall be at the table.  Smiling little faces. Growing.  Giggling.  Without their real mother because their father refuses to overcome himself.

In my dreams, in another life (can it please be this one) we are all together.  We are this modern age “Leave it to Beaver” sitcom.

Mom, the tech entrepreneur and entertainer.. Grandfather the Banker.

Like a Mother duck and her line of babies, except mom has a briefcase and stilettos.

Of little hands and finger turkeys.  Of silly nervous faces as they stuff the turkey.  Of asking why the cranberry sauce looks like jello but doesn’t taste like it.  Of sneaking that last bit of vegetables to the family dog and playing video games with mom.  Of the big kid poker game with pretzels and marshmellows… of sparkling cider “champagne just like mom…”

We miss you my babies.  Come home.  Please let your father come to his senses… and just.. come home for Christmas since you can’t come home today.