It’s been a busy week, what with working every-other-day and road trips and shopping and laundry and getting a bunch of clothes ready to take to the resale shop and visits to the dog park (Sabu met a lovely Golden Retriever boy called Boston today. What doggie joy!)
Clothes take up a lot of room. Towanda’s wardrobe area sucks. Clothes hanging on a temporary closet rod take up an enormous amount of room, but they will be gone Thursday afternoon. Whew! If it doesn’t fit in the wardrobe, it’s going out the door – no exceptions! More on that once I get things under control.
People have been asking Awana (not me, surprisingly) why I am not “torn up” about leaving M, why I’m not grieving the loss of my relationship, why I seem so damned happy to be on my own living a lifestyle that many find repulsive.
“Why doesn’t she seem sad?” they ask.
“Why is she smiling and happy living in a travel trailer for g-d’s sake?”
“Why isn’t it more difficult for her, leaving a long term relationship like that?”
Even Awana asks me almost every day if I’m happy with my decision to change my life so radically.
The answer is simple – I did my crying for years while still in my abusive relationship.
I denied the disappearance of the man I thought I would spend the rest of my life with while he was cutting me down to size with his forked tongue.
I seethed with anger while he told me yet again what a loser I am, how I ruined his life with my slovenly, lazy, stupid ways, how I am a bad judge of character, how I ask for his anger and yelling, how I can’t be trusted to speak to men in person or even on Facebook, my lack of sex drive and a million other things.
I bargained with him, begged to be loved, vowed to change my wicked ways, do anything he wanted me to do if he would only love me like he did in the beginning as he told me, “it would take eight of you to keep me entertained, do you understand that? Eight of you!”
I fell into a deep depression, convinced I was the cause of all of our problems. I honestly believed that all of my relationships were doomed because I was a piece of shit who just didn’t know how to communicate, to use language properly, that I was too damaged to love someone the way they deserved to be loved. After all, the common denominator in all of my failed relationships was me, right?
And then I hacked M’s e-mail and discovered his deceits. I started this blog and was soon found by the wonderful women (and men) who read and comment here and my life started to turn around. As I wrote, I discovered more lies and started to grow a backbone. I researched, I asked questions, I did a lot of deep thinking about my situation.
I accepted that M is an abuser. I accepted that I am to blame for letting him get away with his abuse for so long and that I need to do some serious work to heal myself so I will never again be so attractive to an abuser like M. I accepted that the only solution to my problems with M was for me to move out. I hatched a plan and I left.
Know what? My life has only gotten better. Without M everything is better. Doing laundry is better. Cleaning “house” is better. Picking up dog shit is better, and that should tell you something about how awful life with M was. Daily chores make me very happy because I know that the only person I have to please is ME.
There will be no criticism about anything because there is no impossible critic living with me. I can do anything I want to do and there is no one to say a word about it. I can drive to the dog park at midnight, talk to a man on the street, eat toast in bed, watch TV, leave my dirty clothes in a heap on the floor until morning, wear socks to bed, turn the heat up to 70* (gasp!!!) and take a 20 minute hot shower three times a day if I want to, and there is no one to tell me I can’t.
There is no one to judge me if I do something crazy like watch three episodes of Dexter in a row while knitting a sock, or sleep late and ignore the vacuuming just because I’m tired today, or get up, walk the dog and go back to bed and drink a cup of tea while reading a book. I tell people I have done these things, and they congratulate me! They say things like, “good for you!” So it can’t be all that wrong, can it?
What possible reason could I have to be less than over the moon happy?