Walking toward the light

It is difficult straddling two worlds – the past and the future -- unable to go forth in my life’s story until this chapter is complete.

I am grieving. Grieving. Grieving. Grieving. The tears don’t stop. I grieve the loss of my dreams and my hopes. I grieve the big things – eventually losing my house -- and the little things – having no one to cook for anymore.

I grieve over my feelings of shame.

"How could she stay with him for so long?”

I’ve asked myself that question many times. I am ashamed. I am ashamed for exposing Jason to his anger -- too his abuse upon me. My poor, poor son. I am ashamed of my weakness – believing love could heal all. Believing that my love, my devotion, my trust could convince my husband that I am not his enemy.

And I am scared. I am so scared of his anger. Are my fears rational? He has never hit me. Okay, once. "How could she stay with him???" But would he do it again? Could he do it again? How far will his need for control take him down the dark path? When all is gone in his world how far will he venture down the dark path of bitterness, anger and need for control? Yes, I am scared. I am ashamed that I feel such fear for a man that I once loved.

He no longer lives in the house. He moved 15 minutes away two weeks ago. I do not miss him. I do not want him back. I finally feel some peace. I relish it. I savor it. I want more of it.

This weekend I saw a glimmer of my old self returning. My God, I have missed her -- my free, fearless spirit who once trusted and loved with such innocence. My sweet, sweet self. Why did I allow him to shove you into the dark? Why did I allow his angry shadow to take away your light? My dear, sweet self, come out of the darkness. You are not ugly, you are not stupid, you are not a despicable human being, a leach, a user, an idiot, a bitch, a whore. And you are not a bad mother. You are none of what he has called you. Do not continue to believe his lies. Yes, it will take time to heal. It will take time to trust and love again.

The scars of my abuse are invisible. I have no black eyes or broken lips. I have no broken ribs or bruises around my neck. My scars surround my heart – years of biting insults, name-calling and acts of mental cruelty.

I needed to go to the bathroom – 3 hour wait to cross over the Mexico border. He was impatient and angry. I said nothing during the entire drive. I did not want to add fuel to the fires of his anger.

We get to the gas station just over the border. He and my son go to the bathroom. I wait in line. Five minutes and then 10 minutes pass.


“Sorry, ma’am, women’s bathroom closed,” the attendant informs me.

I ask my husband of 15 years—the father of my child – to drive down the street to the next gas station.

“No. Use the men’s bathroom,” he says angrily.

I refuse to use the men’s bathroom. I walk out. I wait by the van.

“Goddamn it, you always have to have your way,” he seethes at me. “Screw you. You can just hold it until we get home.”

"But that is two hours away," I say.

"I don't care," he says. "You should have used the men's bathroom."

I am shocked. Again, for the countless times in my marriage I am shocked by his words. I feel humiliated. I am angry. We fight until the next gas station. I do not understand how or why a husband could treat his wife so badly. He is angry that he has to stop. He wants to go home. I am ashamed that I married such a cruel man. This all happened on the way home from our family vacation to celebrate my son’s 8th birthday.

I had had enough. Nearly two decades of abuse – of tears and fights, of confusion and humiliation. No more. At that moment, as I rushed to get back to the car after using the restroom – not wanting to increase his anger -- my heart closed and the ticking of the divorce clock began. Not because of one incident but the accumulation of many.

And now I am on this tunneled path – walking away from the hurtful past and heading toward the future. I am scared and I am grieving.

It is such a dark tunnel that I now walk through. I see no light at the end. But on the sides of this tunnel are tiny holes. And from these holes seep glimmers of light. It is the light of my fearless, free spirit who I have faith will be there to greet me at the end of this journey.