Friday, April 15, 2011
As you well know, 23 years later I am still dealilng with the issues. 23 years later I am seeking answers to a mileau of questions.
23 years my best friend and my ex-husband have been married.
23 years now the son that was concieved during our marriage is full grown.
The 3 of us are facing the futur.
The 3 of us are sharing the present.
The memories still fresh in my memory.
Years of therapy (and medication) and EE has not eased my pain, erased my grief or chased the ghost away.
In the midst of our battles - his quest for freedom; my challenge to keep our family (hold my world) together shattered in my hands. He continued to abuse me. He ventured into abusing 2 of our 3 children.
I faced the choice I could not faced: the only home I had ever known. Walk out of my marriage and away from the only man I had ever love (the man who calmly stated he had ceased to love me.) Walk away from the pulpit the Ministry my God had called me to. The Ministry my "people" had shunned me in. Walk away. Abandon hope. Abandon faith - except to believe God had better things for me.
I believed in homelessness, I believed in sickness and in shelters.
They married, sold my only home and progressed toward their expensive cars and the 250,000 mansion in a secluded neighborhood.
I hugged my bible. My only conselation and whispered, "God has not abandoned me. I can't feel His Presence, my prayers are failing me, sickness has shatered my body mind, soul and spirit but I know He cares for me. The Lord is on my side."
At times I found myself whimpering in pain, "Does God love me? If so why does He not rescue me." Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome gripes me once more and shadows of child Cheryl flash through my memory, "Daddy you said you loved me. You promised to come back to help me." I close my physical eyes. I close my mental eyes. I try not to see. I fight the memories. And yet I feel him. I can smell him. His body. His breath. Another man is mounting child Cheryl. My mind takes off to my "Happy Place". Adult cheryl is hugging herself. Crying and wondering when will this misery ever end.
I rise. I find something to eat. NO! I put that back. I find something to clean. I lose myself in scrubbing. But nothings ever clean enough! I am sick. I am weak. I sit. Sweating and I know. Nothing will ever be clean again.
I shut my eyes. I shut my ears but still I hear my beloved saying, " I can't stand the sight of you. I the sound of your voice sickens me." I hear him. I wonder, "Why is he saying the exact words I told him years before my mother had said to me?" "Words she said to me as she wrestled me from the play graound and tossed me into prostitution." I was 9? I was 39? My mind could no longer separate the two.
I heard him saying, "I love my children but if the price of being with them is being with you. I chose neither. " Then he did.
15 years I accepted this "truth". I pledge that my children would not suffer for the fact that I was "unlovable" "unworthy" "failed as a wife".
I vowed to keep their father in their lives.
Many years in ragged "hoopty" "push 'em - tow 'emj" cars. Many more years of sun, rain, sleet and snow on the bus stop - the children shivering at my side.
Drop them off before he gets there. Pick them up after he is gone. That was my stategy. They WOULD have what I NEVER did. A mother and a father that loved them dearly - even though we were apart!
To my dismay. To their distruction. My strategy failed. Our enemy wasz strong.
His absence loomed heavily in their hearts.
To be continued.