This morning at 2:00 a.m. there was a man cutting me down and cursing my being. I no longer knew this man. Who was this stranger before me beating the shit out of me, emotionally and verbally? I once knew him to be my lover, a joy, a friend for four years before becoming intimate. A romancer in secret but manly before others with his great sense of humor, his big red truck, fishing boat in tow dreaming of catching that big one on weekends. A good fisherman he was. His week days were filled with a white collar job where at one time he seemed to love it there. He always seemed happy with of course normal heavy stress at times as all major companies encounter.
The love of my life, all though I’d been married twice before and I never would again, he was the love of my life. And he? He said with me, he had been given a second chance in life to have what he never got twenty-five years ago. And never thinking it would ever happen to him again.
The weekend before this morning, was wonderful together, learning new things about one another, laughing so hard at times, ready to bust a gut. We were just being. But I knew. The knaw in me kept tugging. It was too calm.
In a click of a finger or an instant collision, with loved ones dying just as instantly … We collided. I should have known. When one is abused they sense a vibe coming up the road, like the farmer sensing rain is on its way for his crops but others wonder how in the world he sensing so far off into the yonder side.
By 3:00 p.m. this afternoon I had met with my therapist. I was a heap of mess before her eyes. She had never seen me in so much distress.
The emotional abuse happened twelve hours before my appointment and I was still seriously messed up …
I was shaking like a leaf from the inside out. The sound of a pin drop still would of made me jump.
I had cried to three friends, my confidant and a man I knew as my friend but more of a father to me. They listened and embraced me with love and support.
By 3:00, the caller blocks were on there way to getting done (by me) on the home phone, the cell, the texts and emails were all now, my guards, protected from nine numbers of possible harassment. No more, would there be. I told each one of my friends. I am scared still jolting over the sound of a quite engine’s car passing by my kitchen window or normal creeks in the home, so used to the sound you forget that they are even there at all, making me jump and shake in an instant. This I can not do anymore. For this, I must surrender.
I begged my friends; please don’t let me not do what I must do for myself and my dignity. Not just for me, but for all the women before me and the ones that will follow after.
Crying for the man, not over the man because I loved him so, but for the man who was so lost even he no longer recognized this monster that HE, HIMSELF HAD ALLOWED HIMSELF TO BECOME! And took down hostages along the way. But just one—ME!
It is now 5:30 p.m. All the while I am feeling happiness within me. Thankfulness for the strength to move on and begin over. I am flying high now for I have been set free. Today, I will be the one to open that cage. I have been set free and I am flying high. While I still can pray for the monster, once my lover, I need not ever return or look back if I do not choose to.