Tuesday, September 29, 2009

The Back Story part two

Okay, so for several years HE and I had no communication.

HE was living his life, and I was living mine.

I gave birth to my last child. (I have three living children, I am sure you will eventually come to know something about all of my children.)

I had reached a point in my marriage where I had given up. I had allowed myself to put on huge amounts of weight. I no longer made any effort to take care of myself.

I continued to lie to myself and anyone who would listen, stating time and again that I was "happy".

I was depressed. I was fat. I was being cheated on. I was being abused. I had decided to die.

I figured I had failed. I had always thought that if I couldn't make my marriage work, then I was a failure as a woman. I had, for 14 years, tried everything I could think of. I had tried to be the best wife/mother/housekeeper/lover/banker/doctor all the things that we women strive to be to make a household run smoothly and happily.

But I had failed as a wife, my husband not only didn't love me but made it known by his blatant whoring and public humiliation of me.

I had failed as a mother, my children were watching my dysfunctional relationship with their father and learning that that is how life is "supposed to be". My son learning to disrespect women, my daughters learning that as women they should allow themselves to be disrespected.

I failed as a housekeeper, my house was always in a constant state of chaos. I worked too many hours outside of the home to keep up with the needs of the household. (Of course the husband being home ALL day and refusing to even throw away his empty cigarette packs or dump the ashtrays, or do a load of laundry, or wash a dish, or do ANYTHING to help contributed greatly to the housekeeping failure.)

I had failed as a lover, the husband telling me more than once that I was a "big, fat, nasty, rolly-polly, pig-bitch". (This was well before I put on the bulk of my weight! And shocking considering the fact that most of the women he cheated on me with were far larger than I ever was.) My sex life consisted of three or four (usually unsuccessful) attempts at fucking, per year for SEVERAL years. The husband most often could not maintain an erection, and would take to calling me names, or just getting up and walking away leaving me to cry myself to sleep while he went to masturbate to pornography.

I had failed as a banker, despite earning a decent wage and making enough money to not have to live in the slum we lived in, I could never manage to get ahead. I had worked all the overtime I could get my hands on, in an attempt to correct our credit, with an eye towards purchasing our own home. Of course I fixed the husbands credit first, at which point he got numerous credit cards that I knew nothing about and maxed them all out with no intention of telling me about his purchases! We ended up farther in debt than we had started out, and now MY credit was even worse because the "martial debt" was also MY debt!

I had failed as a doctor, my middle child had Asthma from infancy and my youngest had chronic ear infections, and had actually been thought to be deaf until she was almost six months old. (She had failed the hearing test at birth, and continued to fail them for months. Until one day she was tested and passed and suddenly started responding to sounds! Perhaps she was the smartest one of all, blocking out all those months of Daddy yelling at Mommy, and Mommy crying so much.)

So there I found myself.

A failure.

I had failed at life.

And I had decided to end it. I had a plan. A plan I choose not to discuss. But a plan none the less.

It was the day before my anniversary. A celebration of my failure. I was sitting at my computer, knowing that I had every intention of taking my own life the next evening. No one else knew. No one else cared.

And then.... I got an instant message.

I don't remember exactly what it said. It was somewhere along the lines of "Hi, I don't know if you remember me but..."

It was HIM.

Amazing HIM.
Wonderful HIM.
Caring HIM.
Funny HIM.
Sweet HIM.

And HE was for me that night, EVERYTHING.

We started talking. And in those long hours we spent that night, laughing (something I had thought I had forgotten how to do) and reintroducing ourselves to each other, HE saved my life.

As we both became tired, and had to say goodnight, HE asked me... "Will you be here tomorrow?"

And because of HIM, I was.


I need to get a few chores done. I need to go out and have a smoke. (I do NOT smoke in my house anymore!) I need to pee. And when I am done with those things, I will be back, but for now.. That's all.

1 comment:

  1. WOW. <3

    Thank you for sharing, and I can say ... I'm happy he came along for the mere fact that you're here today. What a touching story.


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