Last Saturday night, I spent the night at my brother’s house. He lives two hours away. (It seems funny to count distance in time, but that’s what I do!) His wife was so sweet to let me come on short notice and have everything ready for me.
The first question I asked him when I got there – and stopped crying – was, am I in an abusive relationship? The answer was…. yes.
We spent lots of Saturday night and part of Sunday talking. It all made sense at his house: I am in a bad relationship and I need to get out. I need to protect myself and my daughters. Things are not going to get better. I do have hope for a future.
But when I came home, my brain got fuzzy again. It didn’t seem so clear, somehow. My house seemed “comfortable,” in spite of all the things I hate here, in spite of wanting so, so, so much more for myself. I couldn’t see it the same way I did at my brother’s house.
Monday night, when I came home from Al-Anon, there was a note from my husband saying that he was spending the night at the hospital with his mom.
So, blissfully, and very relaxed, I slept by myself. It was so nice.
I did what I had to do this week, going to the “New Choices” course at the Women’s Resource Center. Even though I felt like I was just going through the motions, and not really alive, it is a very good program and I am glad that I found it. I’ve had a cold most of this week, so that has made things harder. My cold is getting better, though.
This morning, he is going to visit his mom. But before he left, he just had to be insulting. I won’t go into the details, but he treated me like I was 2 years old. He went to the car to put some stuff in it and when he came back in, I told him I didn’t want him to talk like that to me. I told him that if what I did bothered him, to say so, but NOT to insult me. He said he didn’t know what to say [as in how to say what bothered him] and then started to rehash the issue, in a way that justified what he said.
I was already depressed when I woke up this morning. I was trying to think if there was a way to make things work. Maybe I could go to counseling even if he won’t. Maybe I should go back to being co-dependent, so the marriage would last. Maybe… maybe… maybe… And then other depressing thoughts like, I’ll never have sex again. I’ll never be in a loving relationship. Nobody would want me anyhow. I’m doomed to be alone. I just want to die. You get the idea.
And then he insults me.
So, how is your day going?
Occasionally, I will read blogs on “Freshly Pressed” or someone will leave a “like” on my blog and I will go look at their blog. And these people seem happy with their lives. Their lives seem fulfilling for them. Some of their lives are adventurous. And I wonder, why can’t that be me?
Sometimes I think, if I could reach enough velocity, I could break free. I could stop sitting on the floor, eating chocolate, blogging a pity-party. I could treat my body right by exercising and eating healthy food. I could feel positive instead of constantly dragged down.
One time I read something on the Internet that a man had written. He said he was very overweight, he was living in a dump, he was broke, he was a couch potato. And he decided to change that. All of it. All at the same time. He said there was something about the synergy of working on all aspects of his life at the same time that helped him to succeed. Now he is very fit and very wealthy.
Sometimes I think about that synergy, about making my life flow, making it sing. Of having a pretty house, and a healthy body, and a happy mind, and truly good relationships. And an awesome job. And somehow all of it working together in a positive way.
But then I look at my falling-down house, and my sad marriage, and my depressed self, sitting on the floor, eating chocolate, and I think, there is no way I can pull away.
I guess my goal at the moment is working on getting a much better paying job. I feel like if I can be a little stable financially, that would be a starting place of breaking away.
I heard this earlier in the week: “Keep on walking and the path will open up before you.”
Maybe there is hope for me.