Do you promise when you grow up, you will do things differently? Yes, do you? My sister asked. Yes, I do. Somehow, we will be the start of something new. My sisters and I grew up in an abusive home, where it was drilled into you that you were no good and never would amount to anything. Punishments were cruel and severe. Kneeling on a register vent for hours, standing in a corner unable to move for days, locked in bedroom, for days and days. Sitting in the laundry room with my sister making that promise to one another, did we know how hard that journey was going to be.
Growing up, I would fantasize about the day that I would find my prince charming, he would save me, and we will live happily ever after in our little white house with a picket fence. Laughter and happiness sound out in every moment of our existence. Little did I know lurking in the back of my mind was the darkness that drew me to a world of failed relationships and disappointments. Over and over again, I would find myself caught up, giving 150% of me, only to meet with abuse and failure. I am a world changer, and I can love people to change, but a piece of me died with every failed relationship.
I realized ten years ago that there was nothing left for me to give, even if I would not know how to love or be loved. Everything I grew up thinking it was, it was not, and there was no one to model what was right. I fought to fill empty spaces with anything that would ease the pain, fill the void, or whisk me off to something new and make me forget where I came from, only to find myself in a darker place.
Ten years ago, I stopped trying to fill the emptiness and pain by focusing on raising my children. I believed closing that part of my life; I would protect all of us. Today as my children are older, they will carry wounds of their own. In some ways, it did protect them, but in others, it deepened them. I sit here today lonely and broken. These chains that have shackled me are heavy, and I am tired. Tell me, does happily ever after exist?
Yours truly, T 