Friday, April 26, 2013

Upon cleaning my room

I am hounded now by reminders of the horror that was the marriage that I've been forgetting by means of schoolwork for the last  three months. In cleaning my room this afternoon I came across a letter I wrote my husband while I was in the hospital. It was a pivotal act. I cry a lot, because I'm still so hurt. Because these hurts will never be made right, at least not by him. Because all I can do is look in the mirror each morning and tell myself everything opposite that my husband told me. How did I ever lose myself in his assertions? How did I ever allow myself to believe them? How long will it take for me to convince myself that he was wrong? How can people be so unkind? How did someone so good get tangled up with someone so evil?


I release you from the general expectation to love and protect, to cherish and provide.

Men in bars and at rodeos might be the only ones capable of acknowledging their fortune should consequence lead us together, but at least I will be fortunate in finding companionship that holds me as precious and will still love me in the morning.

It's true--I've been left by people I've loved. And that pain has been great and searing. I've also left many who loved and treated me well, because they somehow didn't match up with who I knew I was and what I was capable of becoming.

Neither of these cases hurts as much as believing I am worthy of great love and devotion, and being told I must settle for being demeaned and emotionally crushed by the man I chose, who promised to protect and shield me from the winds of life.

I am not afraid of being alone. If it means sheltering myself from further dimming and emotionally debilitating words and actions as delivered by my husband, then I choose to be alone. I have much to give this world and the people in it. I will not be repressed by the selfishness and unkindness of one. I'm worth so much more than that.

I release you from the general expectation of love and protect, to cherish and provide.


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