Untitled

I have so many things that I want to share, I'm not really sure where to begin. I guess I'll begin with what's currently on my mind.

A friend pointed out to me in an e-mail that the tone of my last post may have not been what you have come to be used to from me. That it seemed that it was to show you that I'm not really as strong as you think that I am.

You know what, she's right. I didn't think about it while I was writing, but I don't feel that anything I've done makes me strong or brave or whatever adjective you can plug in here. I feel like a coward. I had so many opportunities to walk away, to end things, and I didn't because of pride.

I was far to proud to admit that I was in a bad relationship.

I had become "that" girl that people think is a fool for staying in an abusive relationship. It hurts me to even type that because when I was younger I ofter wondered why someone would stay with another person that abused them in anyway.

I wish I had a good explanation as to why I stayed, but I don't. I thought he loved me, and who knows maybe he really did. I thought marriage would change things, as I said it did, but for the worse.

I recently told a good friend,C,g of mine that it was easier to end things with Ex than it would ever be to break up with a boyfriend now. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I though, "How fucked up is that?" "How can it be easier to end a casual relationship than a marriage?"

I think I was just that done with everything. I was tired of pretending to the outside world that everything was ok while I was falling apart inside. I was tired of hiding the bruises and making up lies if they were seen. I was...just tired.

That's what lead to the events of our break-up.

It was a Thursday night. We were supposed to be moving into what is now my house the next morning. Ex wanted to go visit a friend who had just returned how from a 3 month TDY. No problem - I just asked that he be home at a decent time so that we could get an early start.

Several hours later, I tried to call. His phone was off. I called his friend, his friend answered. Ex was not with him - he was in Tennessee visiting his family. I-LOST-IT. I was done. For some reason, that was the lie that finally broke me. He came home about 2:oo in the morning. I didn't speak, in fact I slept on the couch with the dogs.

The next morning - it was over. I told him he was not moving with me. I was done.

I think he thought it was a joke. He took off with only the clothes on his back and was gone.

I was relieved and so flippin' scared. I didn't know what I had just done. I mean - he was my HUSBAND. Did I really just tell him I wanted a divorce? And then there was the practical problems. His friends and his brothers were lined up to help us. I was screwed. I cried for a long time and I remember staring around in disbelief at the mess I was facing.

I called my brother and told him everything. He and a friend agreed to come help me the next day. Thank God for them. They moved the spare bedroom furniture, all of my living room furniture and a ton of boxes for me. All they would allow me to do form them is buy them lunch.

I talked a lot to C and she convinced me to call around and hire movers for the rest of my things. I did just that. When the movers left and my old house was empty and clean - for the first time throughout the whole ordeal - I FELT PROUD. I hadn't told my parents what was going on because this was all happening over Mother's Day weekend and I didn't think it was fair to my mom - and I didn't feel that my parents should help me get out of the mess I'd gotten myself into. I needed to do it on my own. And for the most part, I did, and all in a matter of 4 days. The only people that knew what was going on were my brother, his friend, and, of course C.

As the weeks passed, it became clear that my marriage was indeed over. Any little shred of hope I'd had for things to get better were gone. It became evident that I needed to put my life back in order and get myself to where I needed and wanted to be.

That's where I am now. I am working on building better friendships, more friendships, and to be a better friend in general. I am trying to be closer to my family and spend more time with them than I had in the 3 previous years. I am certainly spending more time alone, more time thinking, more time reading, and more time being a good dog mommy. I am learning more about myself every single day - and sometimes I like what I find out, others, not so much, but it's still me, and I've learned to accept that.

So maybe that does make me brave in some people's eyes. Eh, again, I don't think anything I've done has made me brave - I'm simply surviving the best that I know how.

Some say writing about what's happened to me makes me brave. I don't know about that either. It simply feels good to get it out. And I have to believe that there is a reason that I've gone through what I've gone through. Maybe the reason is this blog - maybe I'll help another young woman get out of an abusive relationship a little sooner than she would have on her own, maybe someone going through a break-up or a divorce can find comfort in my experiences. I'm a firm believe in the sayings that God doesn't give you more than you can handle and everything happens for a reason. God has certainly taught me I can handle this and if my blog helps even a single person in the slightest way, then it's reason enough for me to keep going and to keep writing.