I am a few weeks away from taking a solo trip to California. The last time I took a trip by myself G was almost 2 and a half and it was to New Orleans to spend some time with my best friend.
It was also a chance for me to decide if I was ready to leave my husband.The writing had been on the wall for a long time. Even leading up to our wedding. But as I had come off an extremely abusive relationship, my soon to be husband seemed like the change. A new start I needed.
Except he wasn’t.
There were so many flags.
Some I still can’t talk about because I’m ashamed I let those things happen to me a second time. I let someone once again hurt me. I still remember being out with a group of friends and my ex. He sat in the corner his arms crossed and sulked the whole night. These were women who had been in my life for years. Suddenly he was making me question them and myself. Were we too much? Was I?
Or being put with his friends, all of them by the way college drop outs with extremely high IQ’s teasing me,a woman with two BA’s about loving pop culture as much as I did. He didn’t defend me. He joined in. My BA was a waste. I was just a glorified babysitter. His sister at dinner questioning why I ate like I did.
There’s so much I could unpack here, but it’s already been buzzing in my brain with this trip coming up.
You put up with a lot when you think you have no choice. When you think you deserve it. When you are afraid of change. When you are afraid of being alone or failing.That trip was the balm I needed. The reminder I was absolutely not all the things I let him tell me I was.
Leaving was hard. He absolutely did not make it easy and he actually didn’t grant me a divorce for several years. Even now he reminds me what he thinks of me. I think you know it’s not good.
As a result I hid from a lot of people I care about because I was so ashamed I let this happen to me. I am ashamed to say… I still do.
I pride myself on being a strong, independent person.
Not someone who had panic attacks when the clocks strikes 430 because that means my husband will be home and the house needs to look a certain way.
Not someone who cared so much about how I looked.
He hated my hair a certain way.
Even food I ate.
Not someone who can’t decorate my current house in a certain shade of green because that was the only color he allowed me to decorate in.
I am still not the best at a lot of things.
Loud noises can be too much. Specifically any kind of sounds in a kitchen. Maybe another blog…
I tend to go inside myself rather than ask for help.
I take a long time to trust someone.
I cut my hair off, am covered in tattoos and piercings.
I have become a homebody.
But at the end of the day I don’t think my ex is a bad person – I mean I have G. Except he is maybe not a husband person, at least not for someone like me. Obviously.
We are still trying to figure out co-parenting. It goes without saying it’s a huge work in progress.
About 70% he’s a pretty good Dad. 30% I do genuinely want to throat punch him.
Last but not least if I have learned anything.
If someone loves me, they love me.
They have my back.
I am stronger than I think I am.
I will always put G first and make sure she always knows it’s beautiful to be yourself and anyone who doesn’t think do absolutely doesn’t deserve you.
I’m looking forward to a trip this time just to go be.
Not figure anything out.