I can remember a photo of me… Black and white, cut out of a newspaper…
My dad, a photographer who rarely took pictures of his children…
A photo of me, taken by my dad…
I am wearing a full-length white satin wedding dress I made
and pearls. A necklace and earrings.
I look so happy… My hair is clean and curled.
I put the picture through the shredder…
Was my dad interested in taking this picture
because he knew I would be leaving soon?
This picture is all wrapped up, with my hopefulness… subconscious…
of escaping from that house, that “family,” and beginning anew.
A fantasy about this husband-to-be? A fairy tale. Not reality.
I chose a husband with characteristics that were familiar…
Similar to what I grew up with.
I could not have chosen anything else… It was all I knew.
I thought these behaviors were about love, care, and connection…
They were about power and control.
I was 19 and he, 5 years older than me.
I thought I was all grown up at 19.
Had a lot to learn. A lot to survive. A lot to get sick of.
I didn’t leave. He left. Moved in with the current affair.
I was unaware of the serial affairs.
He was accusing me of what he was doing. Projection…
I defended myself, my honor… I would never do that…
Little did I know, he was telling me what he was doing…
Until I knew.
He left. I was released. Thankfully. After 16 1/2 years…
I had 2 years of ACA, Alanon, and Codependents Anonymous when he left.
I was working on a sense-of-self, and letting go of what was not my responsibility.
Learning to set boundaries, having my own thoughts, saying what I was thinking.
Asking him to participate in the children’s lives, and mine.
This didn’t settle well, with someone who required ultimate control. And so he left.
Such a gift. In essence, he gave me my life back. No longer an indentured servant.
But it took 12 years and a move out of state, for the divorce to finalize
and for me to break free.
He found where I was… I couldn’t sleep. Sold that house and moved again.
Got an Address Confidentiality Program address,
to set a boundary around him finding me again.
No more stalking. No more. Just no more.
I escaped. I am alive. I am living.
I am leaning into learning how to thrive.
So grateful he left. Although it wasn’t an easy path.
And certainly not what I had imagined…
It works for me!
Lena L
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