Friends and Others

I recently called out my former partner publicly for the emotional abuses my son and I sustained while I was in the relationship. There were threats of and eventual physical violence against my son, regular emotional abuses, threats of leaving and the list goes on. If someone were to ask what you would do if your partner drunkenly made physical threats to your teenager for arguably normal rebellious teenage behavior, I think most parents would say that they would, at the very least, stand up for and protect their child. Some would be outraged. Some would end the relationship. Some would seek outside help in the form of counseling, as we did. But how do you address the emotional damage the offended parties endured that has had lingering affects? Talking about it helps because light needs to be shown on those things that are mostly hidden and kept in the dark. Therapists are great, but we need the support of those who love us, those who call us family and friends.

When I expressed my experiences with my former partner, someone who is well liked and considered a cool guy, someone who is very charming and personable, as we are making our way through an ugly divorce I was told by some "friends" that I needed to keep my "dirty laundry" off of social media. It quickly became apparent to me that, while I had my supporters, my experience and the experience of my child did not matter to others because they have not seen that side of my partner for themselves. Therefore all they saw and still see is the "rock star" persona, the good-looking guy that is quick with a joke and has some cool stories. I was actually told by one person that she "lost a lot of respect" for me for discussing my experiences on social media while she remained friends with my ex despite his dispicable actions. Many simply chose to look past my allegations, tell me that they "love" the both of us, and then turned their heads away from his actions. Still others have quietly slipped away.

What is baffling to me is others' willingness to overlook his evident wrongdoings, the things being done in the light of day, that he is simply able to explain away with his propensity for deceit. His attempts to cancel out my voice are mind boggling to me still. I feel shunned by people I once held dear. My dreams are filled with death more now than ever because if the levels of betrayal I have experienced through this disolution of my marriage. The first came when he lead me to believe that he was willing to work on and put forth the effort to improve our relationship and build a life with me. This ebbed and flowed throughout our marriage, only to finally have that very relationship I've invested in over the years ripped away in the time it takes to say, "I want a divorce," without giving me any sort of viable reason for doing so, which was the next level of my betrayal. The third level came with the discovery of the truth: that he had turned to another woman who could carry him financially although I had been the one investing in him as a person and in us as a couple for the last eight years. The most recent blow was realizing I am losing friends, people I held dear, who chose not to hear me when I voiced my anger and loudly proclaimed that I was indeed the injured party. I was the one who watched my child suffer the consequences of a choice I had made. I was there to support my partner through physical and emotional mending. I was the one put upon with impossible demands, the one who suffered for loving him, and, finally, the one to be kicked to the curb, spent and used.

There are those who have told me I should "play nice," by the rules, or take the high road. I don't have the time, patience, or energy for that anymore. I did that all throughout our relationship to no avail. It got me absolutely nothing. Zip, zero, nada. Why should I continue? Now is the time for justified anger. Now is the time to voice my pain, to cry out, to openly mourn, and, yes, to call out the perpetrators' wrongdoings against me. I will not be told to be silent for the sake of my "sweet spirit," my good nature. That same spirit needs a warrior's voice in this pivotal moment of my life. One is not mutually exclusive of the other. We are, as a society, so accustomed to the dichotomy of the Madonna or the Magdalene. One is pure and light and the other is immoral and dangerous. This is such a bastardization of who we we are as women. I can be both. I will be both. I can be sweet and caring and understanding. I can also be enraged and wrathful. I am allowed to stand and fight for justice for myself and my child, particularly after coming to the realization that I was duped and had been taken advantage of by someone I wholeheartedly believed loved me but was, in truth, broken. Someone who I thought needed my care and would, with it, improve. Those who think differently need to examine who they are and who they are allowing to manipulate them.

I don't need a hero. I am my own. I will not told to lay down and take it, either. I have the strength to fight. I need to rage in order to become whole again. And when I come down from that fight, I need those who love me to surround me, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to hear me, and arms to hold my pieces together while I crumble. Because I need to be allowed that, too.

"All the world is
All that I am
The black of the blackest ocean
And that tear in your hand."
- Tori Amos, "Tear in Your Hand"