Monday, March 18, 2013

Blogpost: Getting Unstuck and Living Your Dream

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I had been stuck for a very long time, and I knew it. The problem was getting unstuck was going to hurt like hell, and I knew that too. It wasn't that I hadn't been in long term relationships before, I had. I just hadn't been in love before--not like this. 

He had done horrible things to me--things I would have never allowed anyone else to do. But that was not the man I fell in love with. That man mowed lawns for little old ladies next door. That man slept on benches in people's yards, as a boy, and rode the el' to stay warm. That man told his sisters to run while he turned and fought off gangs. That man fought every single day to be a better man--and often lost the battle, and yet, he still continued to fight, never willing to give up, always reaching for better days.

It wasn't difficult to love him--it was easy.

I had been arrogant in my dealings with men. I had believed I would put down any man who dared to lay a hand on me. I just hadn't met the right man. And if he had been the right-right man, I would have been in heaven. But he was the right-wrong man--and I would allow him to take me to hell.

When I finally left, he had reached the point where I spent most of my time in my bedroom. I say he had reached the point, because he could no longer tolerate anyone moving around him. He ran us out of the living room, and he could barely handle the noise or movement of anyone in the kitchen.

But he had also hardly bothered to hide his affairs from me, anymore. He had put me on a train to Chicago to visit my cousin while reaching to answer the phone from one of his many new girlfriends. Sometime after I returned, he had accidentally left a love letter up on the desktop. He was not ashamed that he had been caught. He was only upset that he had hurt me in doing so. 

I knew I no longer had any choice left open to me. He hated himself, and he had lost all respect for me for allowing him to get away with all the horrible things he had done to me. I didn't hate me. I knew what I had endured at his hands, and why. I also knew the time for these lessons had reached their end. I had wanted to be punished for my choices. I had needed to pay for things I couldn't even remember. I had known that when I no longer needed to suffer for things for which I had no memory, I would go. 

I had reached the end of my self-inflicted anhilation the night I had fought his large, muscular body off from raping me one more time. I had stopped becoming the warrioress, who fought men off, by day, only to become the helpless little girl, who became paralyzed by what she had been taught to endure from infancy, by night.

I had fought his rage and his abuse. I had learned to sling all of my own, by day--and by night. I had crafted steel strength, deep, into by deepest being. I had healed my tormented little girls and taken them somewhere safe, where no one would ever hurt them again. In some strange way, he and I had healed some part of each other from many unseen demons that tormented each of our souls. 

In the days before I left, I knew I had ran out of excuses. Now, he was down to trying to convince me I was still his number one 'ho--and it was way past time to go. But it would prove to be far from over.

I knew that leaving would destroy me. That knowledge had staid my had for two more debilitating years. In fact, that piece of truth had staid my hand for much, much longer. Even knowing, I had no idea the reality of it, what it would still cost me, or what I would do to survive. I had no idea how far I would have to go to save my own life--or how close I would come to staring at the face of my own insanity--and the choice I would make to stay sane. And I had no idea what I'd still have to endure to get my life back....

I am Lenora. And this is my story.

1 comment:

  1. *hugs* You've been through so much. I'm happy to see you're retaking your voice. Hang in there, and I'm here if you need to talk.