Written by Christine

I met my ex husband when I was newly out of a previous marriage. And I realize how absolutely unhealthy and ridiculous that sounds now. But now is 7 years after meeting him. I was raised by a mother who valued appearance. The happiest she had ever been with me was when I was fully immersed in an eating disorder. I remember her telling me how amazing I looked in every outfit I wore. I remember hearing her call my aunt to brag that I was now a size 4. The masters degree I went on to earn, the incredible job opportunities I was afforded, the two kids I had andwas raising, none of that came close to the pride of being how she physically wanted me to be. Her marriage to my father was an unhealthy one and one that lacked love. And so I began my adult life finding that normal. It’s normal for parents to not kiss, to fight. The other parents are the “weird ones”. The ones holding hands on the couch. Gross. Right? I settled with any man that showed me attention. An emotionally abusive man for my first marriage. One who controlled every penny I earned. Who did not want me to see my beauty. I stayed. I stayed because I felt guilty leaving. But I stayed and felt alone. When he was overseas, in training, home, it didn’t matter. The courage to leave took me engaging in an affair. Because asking for a separation led to him pretending to vomit in the bathroom and threatening to kill himself. So I cheated. I felt disgusted with myself every step of the way. But the attention I was given was unlike anything shown before and I thrived off of it.  It was what was needed to leave and I did. I looked like the bad guy, but I truly didn’t care. I was free for once from emotional abuse. And the possibilities of life seemed endless. I thought my mother, who I looked at as my best friend would be over the moon happy. The mother who was present when her son in law told her daughter that the hole he punched in the wall would “be her face” if she did not get me out of the room he was in. But she was mortified instead. Photos needed to be untagged on social media that I was in. She did not want to hear my stories, experiences, dates. No one was to know her daughter had divorced. And thus instead of embracing being single, since I had not been since my teenage years, I began to loathe it. I felt uncomfortable about my status and within my own skin. I was on a mission to quickly settle down. To make her happy, and I thought then myself happy. I met a guy I had nothing in common with. He was kind. He was there. And that was kind of my only requirement. There. It makes me sad. It makes me laugh (in hindsight). I allowed the relationship to continue and eventually a proposal happened and a marriage and a house and a dog and a baby. You get the idea. I was so unhappy and alone within my marriage, and with myself, that I threw myself into obtaining life achievements and became obsessed with how quickly I could achieve them. Always feeling the same after. Always wanting more. One more child came. With each event, a total crash. I began to rescue animals. Work. Foster children. Anything I could do that I had some passion for. But yet my gut was telling me to listen the whole time. I would silence it with something else I needed to do to feel fulfilled. Years went by. When my children were born I remember longing for my mother to be in the delivery room. Even though our relationship was an unhealthy one, I at least felt a connection to her. When family would visit I would go into the deepest and darkest depression in the days that followed. I assumed it was normal when you live out of state. It took a long time to realize it was not. When my daughters were both diagnosed with autism, and I was given the news during a virtual zoom meeting due to COVID, I sobbed in the car. I knew that I had to get through this and that my spouse would be incapable of being who I needed him to be emotionally. When I finally called to let him know, his response was “Oh, great!”, as if he had walked out to a parking ticket. Many people have asked me “what happened” since my ex and I separated. Sometimes I wish I could tell them that he had committed some awful mistake. But he didn’t. That is what led to the years going by. The guilt about splitting up my family. Was it “bad enough?”. But it was. My heart told me that every day. My gut told me that every day. One day something clicked. Nothing in particular happened, but I was tired of feeling alone. The thought of going one more day married to someone but feeling so ridiculously mentally and emotionally single seemed to be the worst predicament to be in. And the cycle I found myself in. One of not wanting to hold my husband’s hand, kiss him. I knew my girls deserved more. I wanted them to see their mother in LOVE. What would that look like? Slow dancing in the kitchen, stealing kisses, flirting. Mainly a mother who does not need an anti depressant to simply get through her days. The idea of life making me happy on it’s own. Of what life could provide me if I gave myself the chance to explore and figure myself out. That was what I wanted. That is who I wanted my girls to see in a mother. And so here I am. New to this journey. And there have been hard days. Wonderful days. And all the days in between. I’m a work in progress. But every day I wake up feeling like anything is possible. And I have my eyes set to accomplish what I want in life for myself and for my daughters. I plan to break the cycle.