I Choose to . . .

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I've been struggling with a LOT of mental anguish over the decisions I must make.

It would just be SO much easier if I weren't making them alone.

Yesterday I told Jim I wanted a divorce . . .

Not in a confrontational way, and by phone.

He says, Really?  You'd be good with getting a divorce?

Yes, I would.

But, he won't agree to one.  If it weren't for Sam he'd do it, but he's NOT going to be without his boy.

I tried telling him that he could still be very involved with his life.

His response?

I can't even consider that due to my concern for Sam's safety and well being.

Yes, you read that right.

I take care of my son I'd say 95% of the time (and I think I'm stretching it to give Jim 5% since he's rarely alone with him), and he's never had a serious injury in his life.  I mean, really!  He's never even worn a band-aid and he's two and a half!  But, Jim doesn't trust me with the safety of our son.  Of course, he doesn't trust me with anything, even though I'm a highly intelligent, highly responsible individual, so this should surprise no one.

In any case, though he agrees that we could both probably be happier with someone else, he's making the best of it for Sam, and I should too.

He's sucking it up, and I should too.

This conversation essentially went on frustratingly like this for a good 30 minutes.

Now, however, it's as if it never happened.

Outside of an occasional hinted reference he'll make to it, nothing.

He is, however, treating me like gold.

It comes down to this.

He isn't going to help make a dissolution easy, so I have two choices.

I can choose to be happy in my current circumstances, or . . .

I can prepare for what will surely be a fight.

And when I come up swinging, I hope he realizes, he made me what I am . . .

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Guilty . . .

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I continue stumbling through every day.

The thing is, every day in an abusive relationship is not bad.  Every day is not abusive.  There are actually some pretty good days.  And sometimes, those days last a while . . .

This is why I've ended up staying so darn long . . .  Because, when the relationship is good, it's good.  When the relationship is good, I've dared to dream it can stay that way.  I've dared to dream my dreams can still come true.  I've dared to dream my relationship is normal . . . and good.

It is only with time, as dreams of normalcy are crushed again and again that hope begins slowly dying.  For dreams can only be smashed so many times before the dust they've become can no longer be gathered and reformed.

Hope died . . . slowly . . .  The winds of weariness blew the dust of my dreams away . . .  And I stand in the emptiness left behind . . . broken . . .

I don't like uncertainty.  I like knowing what's happening from one day to the next, and sadly enough, this relationship, this marriage, has become normal to me . . .

So, as I stand broken, in the emptiness that was once my life, I pretend.  I pretend that all is well.  I love you's never get said.  Hugs are no longer spontaneous and fierce.  But . . . life goes on.

The emptiness, however, is pervasive.  The quiet death of dreams and hope buried inside of me.

And, I want out.  And, I think about it often . . . not only during the bad days, but in the good.

Right now, we're in a cycle of good days.  Things, for all practical purposes, are going well.  Still, I think about leaving . . .

And, I feel guilty.

You ever have a boyfriend you know you're going to break up with, and then he does something super sweet for you and you feel guilty?  That's my life now . . . during the good days.

Back rub?  I feel guilty.  Lunch date?  I feel guilty.  Talk of building me a house?  I feel guilty.  Anything he does for me that I enjoy?  I feel guilty.

If I turn my thoughts into action, I'm going to hurt him incredibly.  (I know based on threats he's made, that should be the least of my concerns . . .)

I know we're in our good days right now, but there is a laundry list of grievances he has committed against me . . . a mountain of hurt . . . an emptiness . . . an aching emptiness . . .

I have every reason and every right to consider dissolution . . .

So, why?  Why do I feel  so . damn . guilty ?

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A Paralyzed Muddled Mess

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It's been four weeks since I last updated . . .

Tomorrow will be four weeks since my last counseling appointment . . .

(Note to self: schedule next counseling appointment . . .)

I told my counselor about the "January Incident" . . . finally . . .

He listened in disbelief.  He hung his head.  He sat quietly, and then he looked up, directly into my eyes and quietly said, "This goes against everything I stand for, but this relationship needs to be dissolved."

Four weeks later I'm still here.  Why?

I get through all the negativity by thinking, "I could always file for divorce."

But, I'm still here.  Why?

It's not any better.  I haven't been physically threatened, but the negativity continues on an almost daily basis in one way or another . . .

Some statements are as simple as, "I can't believe you didn't know that."  Of course he says this with the utmost superiority . . .

Mostly it's just the way everything he says implies that I'm not a good enough mother.  I don't watch him close enough.  I don't brush his teeth good enough.  I don't discipline correctly.  It . just . never . ends . . .

But sometimes he just comes out and says it, "You're need to be a better mother to your son."  I am being the best mother I know how, and I think that any normal person would view my mothering skills as above par.  So . . .  why do I let his words hurt so much?

And he grumbles because the dishes pile up and laundry hasn't been put away . . .  Well, obviously he's capable of seeing what needs to be done, so why doesn't he lift a finger?  But that's probably just a normal man thing, so perhaps isn't even pertinent to the whole abuse situation . . .

(I just took a brief break to schedule my next counseling appointment . . . August 3rd . . . three more weeks . . .)

The most egregious offence he's committed in the last four weeks?  He was trying to teach Sam to do something completely inconsequential in the grand scheme of life, and Sam just wasn't getting it.  He told Sam, "You're just like your mom.  You have no intelligence."  It's the first time he's ever said anything remotely like this to Sam, and so far it hasn't happened again, but if there's one thing I've learned during this last decade, it is that once he commits an abusive act/behavior and gets by with it, it will happen again . . .  Now it's just a matter of when . . .

I'm rambling a great deal, and I apologize.  This is the mental conflict I live with.  The rambling thoughts that jumble in my brain daily.  I honestly deal with it by ignoring it.  That's why I've neglected blogging for four weeks.  Facing reality is tough.  Facing reality brings tears.  Facing reality makes me look this monster in the face, feel like a failure, and admit that even though I know what I need to do, I'm too weak to do it.

So, I live a half life.  A life where I look so totally normal.  Just another working mom and wife trying to make it all work, always feeling the obligations of life battle over time with the desires to simply enjoy my child.  But,  hidden, where precious few see, is the paralysis . . . the lack of desire to move forward with life as it is.

Jim speaks of building a house this fall, but I don't even want to talk about it.  I desperately want another child, a sibling for my little Sam, and though time is working against me, I don't even mention it.  Because our relationship isn't good, and only a fool would get in deeper . . .

I should be making steps to dissolve this relationship.  But I'm paralyzed to do that too.

So, I'm left wallowing in the muddled mess of my mind, trapped in this inexplicable paralysis . . .

And now, I leave you with something that came to me as I was taking a walk to clear my head this past week . . .

Wish

If I had a shooting star

And a wish to wish come true,

I'd wish that I'd never

. . . heard of you.

But if I'd never heard of you,

I would not have him,

And he has my heart

In a way you never will.

07/09/2011

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may not be reproduced in part or in whole without express permission of the author

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