Years ago, I experienced a terrible pain that surpassed a typical heartbreak: my soul was crushed... Repeatedly. My previous marriage was a failure and I felt responsible even though I wasn't. He was verbally, mentally, and emotionally abusive. He turned my friends against me. My actions, or lack of, caused some family members to alienate me and leave me resigned to my fate. I felt isolated and alone. Oh, and I was a brand new mother of a newborn. My first son was born a month early due to the overwhelming stress in my body caused by his father. I actually went into labor with him at 28 1/2 weeks as a result of the stress. I was admitted into an intensive care environment, whisked away to a special hospital 2 hours away from my home and stayed there for 6 weeks. Alone. My so-called husband not present. He only came to be visit me once.
The abuse continued during the birth of my son and after. I didn't realize, at the time, how bad my situation was for us. I learned of my husband's affair from his affairee, his mother supported this madness and was scheming to take my child away from me, she also harassed me 24/7 and was verbally and emotionally abusive. I felt utterly alone and responsible. After all, I chose this person to marry and I was a young, inexperienced mother and wife, and he was my first real, adult relationship. I felt responsible for his cheating and disinterest. Maybe if I was more like the home wrecking whore? Maybe if I hadn't gotten pregnant? Maybe if I was more submissive? Maybe if....?
I tried everything to please him. To bring him back. Even cutting off my family contact to please him. I was so lost. So hurt. So alone and devastated. How could someone who swore they loved me above everything be so cruel and do so much harm? It wasn't until much later that I realized it was not about me but about his mother and his need to punish me for her actions and responses he saw in me that reminded him of her.
He doesn't even care about his son. He was so focused on punishing me that he completely ignored him. All of his life. My oldest son is now 17.
What did I do to deserve this treatment? Show up. Very simple. My very presence set him off. It was never about me. Took me awhile to understand that point. The 3 who followed were different types of fucked up-ness. 1 was so madly in love and desperate to have me in his life that he didn't care to understand my need to process and seek help for my issues in my freshly left marriage. He wanted what he wanted. He loved me but didn't want to wait, he said. Either I married him now and moved to Hawaii now or I could forget he ever existed. Some choice, huh? Ass.
The next one was more layers of fuckery as this cat wanted so much so soon but demonstrated restraint..somewhat. He helped soothe my hurt, loved me, coddled me, and was an amazing friend. He also left me without an explanation. He was my fiancée. He asked me to marry him, told he everything was fine, and then never showed up. He called me to apologize but not for standing me up, oh no, it was because he'd married another woman. On purpose. Once again, I felt responsible for this mess. He'd felt abandoned by me because I was noncommittal and emotionally unavailable so he found someone else to fulfill his emotional sensibilities. It was then I learned I was a commitophobe. I hadn't really thought of it that way. I thought of it more as a safety blanket. I leave before you hurt me. This breakup devastated me for years. I was so confused and didn't get the whole picture until I met someone just as battered, used, and abused as I was.
Bachelor #3 wasn't supposed to be, actually. I met him by being a smart-ass and saw him as good fodder for my competitive fire. He told me he could cook well and I challenged him to a duel. He lost, of course, even with his friends as judges. Ass. He proved to be my greatest challenge at that time. Although we were a compatible match on many levels, we were incredibly fucked up, emotionally and mentally. We used to spar, verbally, to see who could best who with woundedness. I realized after one particularly grueling sparring session just how deep I could hurt someone and how deep I could be hurt. We were great friends and our trust was complete. We hungered for each other on a level I had never experienced or even read about. We had a soul connection and together we began to heal each other. It happened over the course of 2 years of constant contact. We knew we would never end up together but that didn't stop us from trying to sabotage each other's relationships. We were toxic in that manner. It really cane to a head when I realized I loved him in my soul. That wasn't supposed to happen and I was so pissed. I crossed a line and wounded him for making me feel vulnerable. He did the same and we parted ways. Soon after, I met Mr but that didn't stop crazy from being crazy. He couldn't stand the idea of me not being there for him ever again. One night, many months after I married Mr, he called around 4am. Crying and confused. We hadn't talked for almost a year and here he was crying to me in his girlfriend's bed. He wanted to know why I left him alone. Why I had abandoned him. Why I had married someone else. Why hadn't I stayed? What was so wrong with him and why didn't I love him anymore? He rattled off so many questions all I could do was feel a bit of vindication because he'd hurt me so bad before and now, he's back sick from the grief of losing me. After a while of listening, I began to pity him. But I didn't feel good about it. I told him it was time for both of us to move on. We were too toxic and we'd served the healing purpose in each other's lives. I thanked him for helping me to prepare for my marriage but that I couldn't help him any further. He wouldn't accept the answer and continued to call. I had to cut off communication for him to get the message. It was difficult but we succeeded in cutting off all ties. It's been years since we've last talked.
My Mr. This man is utterly amazing. He's exactly what I needed and wanted and some of what I didn't. He's bossy, domineering, nitpicky, irritating, punctual, rule follower, honest, loyal, compassionate, kind, thoughtful, loving, considerate, succinct, well-groomed, well-mannered, loving, gorgeous, and an amazing lover. He keeps me on my toes. I came to him with all kinds of bags and layersI convinced myself I didnt have and had locked away very neatly. He spent years peeling away and unpacking and burning the residuals, I and others, had left as a huge mess. He complains of having no patience when he's the most patient person I've ever known. He's had the utmost faith and trust in me from day one and I've had to make him toil in the trenches for mine. He's endured so much from me and he's still here to tell the world how much he loves me and how proud he is to be my husband.
I am not a great person. I am not an exceptional person. I am a regular person who is in love. Mr has been here for me through so much of life's happenings. He's so sweet and endearing you'd think Hallmark has him on the board. He's well meaning and is so genuine he touched my soul when he voluntold his proposal to me. It wasn't so much of a traditional ask as it was a "I'm here to take care of you and fix your fucked up-ness." He barged into my life, made me proactive and accountable in this relationship, made me want to commit and stay... Not walk away after inflicting untold damage to his heart. He let me scream, claw, kick, threaten, bargain, and intimidate him (all metaphorically, of course) in my attempts to leave. He never once gave in and instead continued to hold me tighter, love me harder, and whisper in my ear until it became a mantra, "You are enough. You are worthy. You will accept my love and I will accept yours. You may be hurt in the process but you will heal. You will survive. And I will survive you. I love you. Please, love me and let me love you."
He loved me through my darkness and in the depths of my mess. He dances with me in the light and takes pride in my transformation. He doesn't hold grudges and forgives easily. He is the man I prayed, begged, and asked for. He finally showed up. Eleven years into this and we are still going, albeit the load is lighter and the path easier to traverse. We have no more baggage or storage. We are clear and healed. I call him Mr because he's earned the right and my trust for me to call him that name. He's my Mr and he deserves the respect.
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