The birthday of my youngest son signifies new beginnings, possibilities, growth and healing.
5 years ago, I made a choice that sent my life on a different trajectory. I took a stance and prioritized myself, my convictions, my safety and my wellbeing.
Before that, I had lost sight of my dreams
I had lost sight of my ambitions. I was desperately trying to keep my head above water while simultaneously trying to save someone else. I had no identity. I was living to serve others, my husband and my children and had all but forgotten that I existed outside of them.
My days consisted of falling short in every aspect of my life. I followed a toddler around the house, trying to minimize the destruction he embodied just existing, all while not keeping the house clean enough, not washing all of the endless dishes our family dirtied, not conquering the mountains of dirty laundry accumulating in every room of the house.
Money was tight
Some days I did not have enough money for milk to fill my kids cereal bowls in the morning. Disconnection bills stared at me from the kitchen counter, waiting to be paid, with money I did not have.
Memories occasionally weasel their way back into my mind from tightly locked boxes, tucked deep in my brain begging to be forgotten.
Sleepless nights, blankets fixed tightly over my head as I tried to escape the screaming and banging on the locked bedroom door. The small child awoken by shouting. Other nights, tiny feet making their way down the stairs, pleading for us to stop the onslaught of words happening in our living room.
Me, shouting for validation, desperately hoping to hear that I am not crazy, that my eyes do not deceive me and the truth I see before me is acknowledged.
But it never comes. The truth I seek will not be given to me by the one denying it themselves.
It had to be me
I am tired of this life. I am tired of carrying the weight of another’s burdens. I am tired of ripping and clawing my way through life, looking for control over something, anything.
The power that I seek is my own. It is the power to step away. It is the power to disengage. It is the power to recognize that my life, my happiness, my journey falls solely on my shoulders, and I have been allowing others to take me on a path I am not willing to go down.
I choose what I tolerate in my life
I thought the power was in changing someone else’s behavior to fit my expectations, when what really needed to happen was for me to clearly state my boundaries and what I was unwilling to tolerate in my life, then remove myself when those boundaries were crossed.
I have no power to change someone else. I only have control over me and what I decide to do about it.
So I left
It was up to them to decide if they were willing and able to make the changes necessary to fit in my life.
It was up to me to decide how long I was willing to wait for that to happen.
I got an apartment. I continued on with my life. I was on the receiving end of unhealthy behavior when I stuck to my boundaries. I learned how to handle those situations. I learned that I didn’t have to listen to someone scream at me through the phone. I could hang up. I was safe in my new apartment. I did not have to open the door to anyone I did not want there.
At some point, through Al-anon meetings and counseling, I came to the conclusion that it was time for me to move on with my life, and that person could not join me.
Even though those years were some of the toughest years of my life, I sit here now on my couch typing this, in the home I purchased myself, with my one year old napping in his bedroom. The son that was created out of love, peace and hope, with a man that made me and my sons feel safe and secure.
A man who has never raised his voice to me in anger, let alone a hand. A man my sons see embrace their mother in the kitchen, not wake them up with wars fought at night. A man who doesn’t speak harsh hurtful words in an attempt to break me down.
A man who rises in the middle of the night, to get medicine and a clean diaper for our sick son. A man who lies in our king size bed, and tucks our sick baby boy safely in the crook of his arm, his small fevered cheek resting on his daddy’s bare chest.
This man I asked to take a chance on me, and do it all over again- start a family of our own.
I knew in my heart, one day I would look with sleepy eyes at the baby fast asleep on his chest, quietly lean over and kiss his muscular shoulder and know that walking away was the decision that finally led me to peace.
