I cannot live as I am.
Today, my life is a consistent series of rejections, failures and inadequacies. Every communication from my youngest daughter reminds me of what I am no longer a part of and who I no longer am for her. Every conversation with my husband is a verbal confirmation of how he would rather ruin the lives of everyone in our family than spend one second with me.
I’m faced with the reality that I cannot live like this. While once upon a time my biggest irrational fear was that my husband would no longer want me and I would be completely disposable to him, every day in the past seven months has been an experiment to that fruition. I have only known one person, before, so determined to destroy me and if she knew what was happening now, she would likely dance with glee. Now that my very terrors are that which greet me with the rise of every morning, I’m realizing my new fear is waking up at all. This Groundhog Day existence has sucked the life in me out. It is an everyday occurrence of realizing I can do nothing to make this hell better until I simply walk away and hope that journey leads to oxygen or something.
I can no longer breathe without great effort. Every day the spotlight shines brighter on my punishments and shortcomings. Since the summer of 2013 I have been realizing more and more that I never should have become a mother and now, now I’m merely someone who used to resemble one. I am no more a mother than my own ever was. I can’t pretend. I’m a pen pal with a name that I’ve grown to loathe. Mom, Mother, Momma, Disgusting. I am a mother on adoption certificate and nothing more. I have been destroyed from the inside out, all that can be left is to rebuild and reinvent.
What was never meant to be a war, has become one. What was created to be one side, one family, one unified show of strength and love has become a battleground that I no longer have the strength to try on. I concede. My white flag is blowing in the wind, only as high as I can muster the strength to raise it. He has loved to see it always as a fight, a competition, and finally he is the champion of the very war which he created. The sound of his battle cry echoes through my own tears, through my mind when I sleep only from exhaustion. May he victoriously feast on the flesh of who I once was because if I do not surrender here, I will surely be buried alive in the reality of this existence.
I have never been one able to play the part in appearance alone, and this is no exception. He asks What did you expect when you left? Passionate that I deserve everything he’s done to me. What I expected was to no longer sob on the floor of my shower, hot water drowning me awake so that I would stop considering the entire bottle of pills on my nightstand. What I expected was hoping to feel like I was worth something to my family, or that I could possibly actually BE worth something to them. I left because He made it clear he wanted me to, even after I begged and pleaded for him to let me stay. I expected nothing, no long term dreams because I had never been outside of the very family I co-created, fought for, lived for and loved. I simply wanted to save my life.
He can have my motherhood, my wifehood, and I will take the fall because there is no other way this could have ever ended anyway. My heart on his battle spear, I must simply rest for a while before I figure out who and how to be now, when I’ve lost the very reason for being at all.