Ten Things
It
has been a bit of a minute since I last posted on my blog [here], and I have no real explanation except that the things
around me right now have been "off," and I've felt a bit numb and overwhelmed.
Exhausted from the yo-yo life ... thrown out and yanked in ... married to a
manipulative, narcissistic alcoholic drug addict.
I
find myself, two years shy of 60, and 10 years into a life I never thought I
would see again. Six years after leaving everything familiar to start fresh in
a place where there wasn't any history, or my husband's family and friends who
would ply his mind with meth and cocaine.
I've
found myself wondering, especially in light of recent "shelter-in-place"
lockdowns ... how many other women found that their home was less of a shelter,
and more of a house of horrors? How many other women have been standing in the
shadows, afraid to speak up or speak out, because they felt they had nowhere to
go. No one to turn to that they could trust. Where do you go when the only
"safe" place is supposed to be home? Who do you reach out to when you must stay
six feet apart?
Some
of you know that I recently separated ... let me rephrase ... my husband moved
out after nearly eight months of turmoil in the house. His drinking and
disappearances became more frequent and his anger more explosive. My own anger
and unhappiness reached volcanic proportions and I said things that can never be
forgiven. Not that I want them to be anymore, and not that I'm apologizing for
them either. Especially after he spent an outrageous amount of money for online
pornography, beer and liquor.
I thought that his
absence would bring me some inner calm without there being constant drama and
tip-toeing about, but that has not been the case. His threats intensified. He
took Charlie
[my
dog] overnight and subjected him to who knows what. When Charlie was finally
returned [after I said I would arrive with the police to get him if he was not],
he was quiet, withdrawn, and exhausted for more than 36 hours. I had to file a
restraining order. Call the police more than once, and the last straw came on
Thursday when he tore open a screened window to come into the house while I was
working to scare and intimidate me. Scare me, he did. Intimidate me, he did
not. As of this moment, at 10p on a beautiful Saturday evening, I still don't
know if he has been served the restraining order papers that were filed on
Wednesday morning.
His
most recent attempt to bully and intimidate me has come with threats to shut off
all of the utilities to the house because they are in his name, knowing that I
work from home and a sudden disconnect of internet or electric would be damaging
to me financially due to lost hours and wages. (but you see, I am so much
smarter than he. In the last 24 hours I have had all of them put in my name so
that he [pun intended] has no power over me.)
Originally,
I wanted to be able to stay as long as possible in this house that I once
thought would be the last house I ever lived in. I've lived in more houses than
half of my years on this earth. I wanted a place to finally call home. Perhaps
even forcing him to concede defeat and let me keep it. Watching with
anticipation for every spring bloom, every new bird at the feeder. But then I
realized that those I thought were my "friends" are actually my enemies, and my
inner circle became so small it consisted only of me and the fur-kids. Even if
I had been able to stay here in this house for the rest of my life, I would
never feel safe here again. Never feel connected to this town that once gave me
such hope.
Plan
B became to leave Wisconsin and move to Virginia where I would be closer to my
mother in North Carolina, a sister and her family in Virginia, a brother and his
family in Georgia, and another heart-sister and her family in Pennsylvania. But
I also need to make sure before I leave that the divorce has been started so
that I don't have to come back or wait to meet a residency requirement in
another state. Reserving and renting a trailer to move the furniture I wanted
to take to restart my life. Finding somewhere to live before I got there. Not
as easy as it sounds with two cats and a dog, none of whom I will leave behind.
The list continued to grow, as did my stress, in opposite proportions to the
amount of sleep I've been getting lately [just three hours last night].
Today
I have been wandering from room to room during my breaks from work and doing a
mental inventory. I've come to realize that the process of leaving doesn't need
to be as stressful as it is.
I
measured the back of my truck and realized that it would hold six storage
containers without needing to stack any of them above the window height. Six
tubs to hold everything I need to start my life again. Furniture I can get
again, most of mine are upcycled or yard sale finds. There is a storage unit
filled with things I've occasionally thought about, but have really not even
looked at in three years. My clothes are all from the Goodwill, and if I move
to a little bit warmer climate, won't need six months of winter wear.
Standing
in each room of the house, I looked around for ten things I couldn't live
without. Ten things I couldn't replace. I had a hard time even finding ten in
every single room.
If
there is one thing I am looking forward to replacing ... it is the person I
became, with the person I will become. Someone new, for the last four decades
of my life. Someone hopeful, happy, and creative (yes, there will be another
book written from this. It is far too satisfying to write out the karma destiny
for an ex to NOT give David his 15 seconds of fame.)
At
the beginning of this year, I chose a word to represent what I wanted this
year.
I
wanted to thrive.
