Love Shouldn't Hurt

Crushed. Empty. Numb. Sick.

I watched him walk out the door, never to look back. The life I tried so desperately to hold together crumbled and blew away like sand in a dust storm. What more could I do? Yet another affair turned up; the third in two years. It was, sadly, expected. Was I ugly? Too fat? So many questions left unanswered, part of me didn’t even want to know.

Picking myself up off the floor, I shoved away my pain. My son needed me. Looking back, I never would have thought by the age of 20 I’d have a family. A growing one at that. I was five months pregnant, had a two year old, and my husband left without batting an eyelash. But I had to go on. For four years I kept it all a secret. The mental and emotional abuse, along with the cheating, severely bruised my self-worth. I was diminished. And I was alone.

The games, however, continued.

"Are you going to pick him up this weekend? You haven’t seen him in almost a month,” I all but screamed into the phone.

“I don’t know. I might have to work this weekend,” he stuttered.

“Uh huh. When are you giving me money? He needs diapers, you know,” hiding the tears was next to impossible.

“I’ll try to give it to you in a few days. I gotta go.”

Imagine that conversation repeated over and over. It was agony. Knowing your son would ask for his father and there was nothing you could do to give him what he wanted. To say it was painful is putting it mildly. It was enough to leave me dead inside.

There were several occasions I thought he’d changed his mind. We’d spend time with our son, which I usually forced him to do. Then there were the times he wanted me to come over when all his roommates were sleeping to have sex. He’d tell me he loved me, than take it back. The already broken pieces of my heart would warp and stab my chest at weird angles. I was a pawn.

When I found out about the last mistress, I couldn’t take it anymore. You’d think I would have realized it sooner, but I was blind. Swallowing my pride, I pursued the divorce. Never again would I be abused. No one had that right. Didn’t I deserve better? Didn’t my children deserve better?

Months later, I happened to come across some people I went to high school with on one of the social networking sites. I emailed a few and was happy to reconnect. One email went to someone I wasn’t sure I knew, but took the chance anyway.

A few minutes later I received a reply. He and I started chatting. It turned out we knew of each other in high school, but never met face to face. Small world. We exchanged numbers and started talking for hours and days on end.

I was confused. Normally some type of emotion would kick in. But I was completely and utterly in the dark. Surely there was something wrong with me. How could I still be so broken?

“So would you consider dating? I know you aren’t looking for anything serious. We can just see where things go,” he asked nervously.

“You do realize that I’m pregnant and I have a two year old and not yet divorced?”

“If I cared about any of that I wouldn’t be asking. If it doesn’t work out we can go back to being friends, no biggie,” he affirmed.

Could I do it? Was I ready? What would my son think? So much to think about and he wanted a yes or no. It’s not always that simple.

“We can try. I’m not promising anything,” I said. I didn’t like acting so coldly, but I didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t only thinking about myself anymore. My children were the top priority.

Dating went fairly well. He told me he loved me after several months and I drew a blank. Trying to explain to someone that you honestly don’t know what you feel is unnerving. I’m sure I sounded crazy. But, he didn’t give up and neither did I.

My son was born and he came to see me at the hospital, much to my ex-husbands irritation. It was awkward, but he didn’t falter. When I brought my son home he was there to help. He often stayed several nights a week to help, still getting up at 5 a.m. for work. It was a change for me.

Needless to say, the boys grew on him. He taught my oldest son to ride a bike and play basketball and my youngest son saw him as Daddy. My ex-husband started trying to buy their love, which worked for a short time. Playing me was one thing, playing with my children is entirely different.

Almost five years later, we’re still together. Talking about marriage and buying a house is almost an everyday occurrence. My children ask for him all the time, only seeing their dad on the weekends permitted. Even then they want to stay home, but by law I have to make them go. It breaks my heart every time.

Still, my heart mends more as time goes on. I don’t think I will ever be completely myself after the abuse and lies, but I’m improving. I no longer live in fear of history repeating itself; however I can’t always stop those thoughts from creeping in.

I can't regret my marriage- after all he gave me my children- but I do regret my own inaction. I was so young and so badly wanted to live a fairy tale life. I wanted the loving husband and "Leave it to Beaver" type of kids. Most of all I think I just wanted to be loved in return.

Love isn't supposed to hurt. And this time around, it doesn't. We aren't perfect by any means, but we're perfect for each other. I don't know if I can still dream about happily ever afters... but I can live with what I've found for a very, very long time.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 19.01.2012

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