I don’t think my children will understand at this time why I can’t stand the sight of their father. My parents were divorced too, and I was a daddy’s girl. I always had fights with my mom when I was younger because I wanted to be with my dad more than to be with her. We weren’t that close when I grew up, and like clockwork, history repeats itself. My first-born hates me and loves his father. She loves her father, who used to beat my emotional being, hurt my psychological health, and of course, gave me a taste of his hand a few times in the twenty years that we were together. That’s what I don’t get. She has seen how he was with me, but how is it that she hates me?
Maybe the lockdown and quarantine brought upon this effect on us. We cannot go out, and our house is small. It is just us, day in and day out. And when their dad comes for a visit, I get tense. They can sense that, and at times, I hid. And I break down.
I realized that I don’t love this person anymore, and I thought the break up would be easy. In my mind, I don’t have to live with this person anymore, and therefore, the pain of breaking up will pass. True enough, it did. The pain of the breakup and of losing him was gone. What didn’t go away was my anxiety and my depression – all the trauma I received from when we were married. It all came out and exploded after we broke up.
It was a shock. I didn’t know that it was possible to feel that way on a person that you no longer love. It’s been over for a long time, but maybe all the abuses must have taken a toll on me. Could it be that way? Because of the pandemic, I have all the time in the world to think and ponder about my twenty years. How did I let it happen like that? Why didn’t I fight back? How come I let him do that to me? I should have left him sooner, but then if I did, I wouldn’t have my fourth-born and my youngest. To be honest, I still think if the pain I have received in all those years is worth it in exchange for the two kids. Yes, it is bad to think that way, but I didn’t have an easy two decades with him.
Sometimes, I cry. I may have let myself down, and I still have difficulty bringing myself up. It is a constant struggle that I deal with every single day. And since we parted ways almost two years ago, I haven’t opened my heart to anyone. I look at all men and see them as just wanting to hurt, use, and betray me. How sad is that?
As for my kids, well, they have their favorites. And their dad is very good at buying them stuff. I can’t do that as often because I need to save up so I can afford a decent home when I leave this place. I live in one of their houses, out of the thirty-five that they own, and since it is not in his name, I cannot claim it. His bish of a mother was even telling me to get out of her house. So, ok. If I get out, I bring the five kids with me. And whatever happens to the kids is all on them.
I know it is modern times and that women are independent. But just hear me out. I was promised a loved life, and then, it was broken. I was promised a comfortable life filled with comfortable material things, and then, it was broken. It sounds like a broken record, but since I have two grown daughters, I kept on repeating to them that they have to be independent, don’t rely on their man even if they have money, and never change their name.
Was this brought on by the pandemic? Maybe. At least, I had time to think, and it was reality.