"I'm going to need for you to give me my keys."
He walked up the sidewalk leading towards the house, and I repeated myself, "I'm going to need for you to give me ALL my keys."
His face held no remorse. He knew what he'd done. He knew he'd been caught.
I'd sent the older kids to their grandmother's house the moment they got off the bus.
He wanted to go inside to get some things. I told him the clothes on his back were enough, we'd sort shit out once I could catch my breath.
"Yeah... I may have inadvertently made it happen without meaning to. Relax it isn't you and me. She doesn't know. She tried to hug me last night and I couldn't reciprocate what she was searching for."
For weeks, months leading up the discovery, things had been going south fast. He would deny my touch, but then I would find him inebriated or high on top of me as I slept or exposing me enough to take pictures. I was only wanted when he was numb enough to tolerate me which left me disgusted by any and all advances. That is not love. That is not what our marriage had been built on. This was not going to work.
I tried so hard. For the babies... for him... for myself. When he walked away, I wanted him to leave everything behind. All of it. He had chosen to close his heart to me so he could open it for someone else. He had betrayed our marriage, the vows made before God, and the promises he made our children. Promises that would make my heart swell and cheeks flush to hear the words drip from his mouth like honey. These false promises gave me hope that it was going to be ok. I never in a million years saw this coming. Being so naive, so gullible even, it's why I get sick to my stomach and nervous knowing that not everyone is truthful. Not everyone is thinking of your best interest. Sometimes it's easier for others to lie than to attempt the truth.
I don't want to go into a new relationship, a new marriage even, with fear of the unknown sour and unwelcome on my tongue. My partner has not given me any reason to doubt him or his love for me. He's not given me any reason to question his stability or devotion. Which of course leads me to feel like something's just not right. Because that's how my brain works. Because for over 11 years I kept a letter in my wallet from the man I called my Husband, vowing to never stop loving me and working for me well into our old age... imagining our children and how we'd be the best parents to them, better than what we grew up with in regards to split homes and broken dreams. But that's now how things worked out and I despise the unknown.
Despite the fact that I find it insanely easy to get my words out through my fingertips, I am TERRIBLE at speaking. When it comes to conversation, it is so much easier for me to write you a letter or type out a blog post. When it comes to debate or argument, I'm better at constructive friendly debate than emotional brawls. I can't find my words or purpose in the situation. My brain turns to fog and evaporates out my eyes in the form of tears. Confrontation robs me of my speaking voice and it takes a ton of prep work or practice to utilize my voice. A blank screen, like a canvas, allows me to paint my inner words into air. The divorce was hard because I was already deafened by silence from the other party. Relationships are hard because the silence is awkward with expectation and anticipation, of which the words build up inside my chest like bricks waiting to fall at any moment.
I want to apologize. I want to say I'm so sorry to the people I love. I want to beg them to read me, read these accounts and inner workings of my mind. Understand me for the words that can't come out and fill the spaces between us. Know that I love with my whole heart even when my face can't express it. Know that I'm scared to death every last person is lying to me while I can't even fake a good poker face, that it's not because I think I'm surrounded by compulsive liars but because the one person I committed myself to and devoted my whole heart and more to robbed me of any ability to believe what I see and hear anymore. That because I've heard my heart scream, "He's the one I love, he's the one I need to wake up to every morning, and giggle myself to sleep beside every night," that I'm having to reassess my head and heart and really confront my fears while washing myself in truth.
I want to be able to hold his hand, hear his vows to me whether it's in front of a priest, the world, or just pillow talk and know that this is the truth. This is real and amazing and there's not a doubt in my mind that I am worthy after years and years of me judging and gently whispering to myself that not a single girl he brought into my presence was ever worthy of him and his goodness.
And I can say I am worthy all day long, but as the emptiness and hollowness of my heart is filled up with the golden light of his love, that last little bit of darkness wants to question and pick before it's gone forever.
He walked up the sidewalk leading towards the house, and I repeated myself, "I'm going to need for you to give me ALL my keys."
His face held no remorse. He knew what he'd done. He knew he'd been caught.
I'd sent the older kids to their grandmother's house the moment they got off the bus.
He wanted to go inside to get some things. I told him the clothes on his back were enough, we'd sort shit out once I could catch my breath.
"Yeah... I may have inadvertently made it happen without meaning to. Relax it isn't you and me. She doesn't know. She tried to hug me last night and I couldn't reciprocate what she was searching for."
For weeks, months leading up the discovery, things had been going south fast. He would deny my touch, but then I would find him inebriated or high on top of me as I slept or exposing me enough to take pictures. I was only wanted when he was numb enough to tolerate me which left me disgusted by any and all advances. That is not love. That is not what our marriage had been built on. This was not going to work.
I tried so hard. For the babies... for him... for myself. When he walked away, I wanted him to leave everything behind. All of it. He had chosen to close his heart to me so he could open it for someone else. He had betrayed our marriage, the vows made before God, and the promises he made our children. Promises that would make my heart swell and cheeks flush to hear the words drip from his mouth like honey. These false promises gave me hope that it was going to be ok. I never in a million years saw this coming. Being so naive, so gullible even, it's why I get sick to my stomach and nervous knowing that not everyone is truthful. Not everyone is thinking of your best interest. Sometimes it's easier for others to lie than to attempt the truth.
I don't want to go into a new relationship, a new marriage even, with fear of the unknown sour and unwelcome on my tongue. My partner has not given me any reason to doubt him or his love for me. He's not given me any reason to question his stability or devotion. Which of course leads me to feel like something's just not right. Because that's how my brain works. Because for over 11 years I kept a letter in my wallet from the man I called my Husband, vowing to never stop loving me and working for me well into our old age... imagining our children and how we'd be the best parents to them, better than what we grew up with in regards to split homes and broken dreams. But that's now how things worked out and I despise the unknown.
Despite the fact that I find it insanely easy to get my words out through my fingertips, I am TERRIBLE at speaking. When it comes to conversation, it is so much easier for me to write you a letter or type out a blog post. When it comes to debate or argument, I'm better at constructive friendly debate than emotional brawls. I can't find my words or purpose in the situation. My brain turns to fog and evaporates out my eyes in the form of tears. Confrontation robs me of my speaking voice and it takes a ton of prep work or practice to utilize my voice. A blank screen, like a canvas, allows me to paint my inner words into air. The divorce was hard because I was already deafened by silence from the other party. Relationships are hard because the silence is awkward with expectation and anticipation, of which the words build up inside my chest like bricks waiting to fall at any moment.
I want to apologize. I want to say I'm so sorry to the people I love. I want to beg them to read me, read these accounts and inner workings of my mind. Understand me for the words that can't come out and fill the spaces between us. Know that I love with my whole heart even when my face can't express it. Know that I'm scared to death every last person is lying to me while I can't even fake a good poker face, that it's not because I think I'm surrounded by compulsive liars but because the one person I committed myself to and devoted my whole heart and more to robbed me of any ability to believe what I see and hear anymore. That because I've heard my heart scream, "He's the one I love, he's the one I need to wake up to every morning, and giggle myself to sleep beside every night," that I'm having to reassess my head and heart and really confront my fears while washing myself in truth.
I want to be able to hold his hand, hear his vows to me whether it's in front of a priest, the world, or just pillow talk and know that this is the truth. This is real and amazing and there's not a doubt in my mind that I am worthy after years and years of me judging and gently whispering to myself that not a single girl he brought into my presence was ever worthy of him and his goodness.
And I can say I am worthy all day long, but as the emptiness and hollowness of my heart is filled up with the golden light of his love, that last little bit of darkness wants to question and pick before it's gone forever.
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