My heart has been broken on two occasions. I’m almost disappointed it hasn’t been more. The experience was transformative. Both times. I almost don’t want to talk about the first experience but I suppose I don’t really mind. No one will beat me up as much as I’ve already been beat up about it by myself and otherwise. I own my imperfections and hug each of them.
I was married very young to a very controlling, yet vanilla guy; type “A” personality (I’m not even sure what that means anymore, it’s become such a label). He always used to say, “I’m not a pessimist, I’m a realist.” Completely opposite of myself in almost every way. I’m a dreamer, an artist, a romantic... but a little more practical than he ever imagined... Well maybe not in my early 20’s. I was very prone to following my heart. I threw caution to the wind at every opportunity!
I think he was jealous. Actually he was overly jealous about a lot. He would get angry when other men would admire me. Instead of directing the anger toward those guys that were staring, he would turn his anger toward me because I was doing absolutely nothing to deter the attention. I “dressed too slutty” like I wanted it. I wasn’t “acting like a married woman”.
I soon became a detestable whore in his eyes. He would belittle me around his friends, around my friends, and around his family. Now I understand there are some who may enjoy a little humiliation but this man was malicious. I felt worthless. My feelings meant nothing to him. You might think that this is where my heart broke but if it did... I didn’t notice.
I learned to loathe this man. I just wanted to get away from him but he held me emotionally hostage with our children we had together. I dealt with my depression in probably the worst possible ways I could by seeking comfort from another man.
Maybe in the back of my mind I somehow thought this guy was going to don shining armor, climb atop a magnificent steed and carry me away to a better place. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Maybe not literally! Now... figuratively.... 20 years later and my face flushes and my heart races just as I’m writing this... thinking of why he figuratively carried me to “a better place”.
——to be continued——-
