Farewell Letter
Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: Nov 2012
Posts: 786
Farewell Letter
Hi all--
I've been thinking a lot lately about how hard it is for us to separate from ones we love, and how much baggage goes along for the ride. Feels to me like several people are currently considering splits with somewhat abusive or narcissistic partners. I left 2 1/2 years ago. A little over a year into post-divorce recovery I wrote my farewell letter--never to give him--but I read it out loud (that was hard!) to a few of my closest friends and then we threw away all of my wedding memorabilia--sort of a ritual. I did this to make it very REAL and ask them to hold me accountable to remembering the truth. I originally thought the letter idea was a bit hokey, but one day I suddenly sat down out of the blue and wrote it…all in one sitting…like it was ready to pour out. I thought it might help some of you to see it here, though I know it's long. I took a few things out, but most of it is here.
After I wrote it, I re-read it the next day and suddenly started crying for "that poor woman". That woman was me, but I was really seeing her story for the first time. I definitely owed her more compassion.
Just saying…it's a tough, tough road, but there is beautiful life on the other side. I am so very content now. I have forgiven myself, which was hardest of all. You all deserve peace and contentment too. Don't accept "periodically not horrible". And ask yourselves…would your letter look as unhealthy as this?
Here goes:
Dear XAH,
I found some more pieces of myself today. It’s random, but it happens more and more often lately. When I see them, I have to look a second time, as if at first glance they may not be real. In some ways it’s like meeting a new person, while in other ways it’s like running into an old friend that I just in that very instant realize I really, really missed. I sometimes wonder how long this will keep happening…but it’s an incredibly amazing experience. It’s almost like when your leg falls asleep, and when you realize it’s gone, for a few minutes you look at it and poke it as if it’s not really yours, then it slowly warms up and becomes a part of you again. This is the best part of everything you brought to my life—the fact that I didn’t forever lose these pieces, and that my treasure hunt has just begun.
Your hurts started out small. So small that it was almost imperceptible to me as a happy, confident person. I attributed it to your lack of self-worth, and knew I could handle it because you must not mean it. In any conversation I tried to have about it, you acted like a wounded puppy I was attacking and turned it all back around on me. Even though I just was trying to talk about things honestly…you alternated between attacking me and turning on the “I’m a horrible person, why would you be married to me” routine, complete with those ever-convincing tears telling me I was a horrible, demanding wife for expecting more. After the first several encounters, I danced carefully around confronting you. I quickly taught you that your self-pity would always make me back down from any expectation. Looking back today I am appalled at how much I accepted out of the fear of “hurting” you. But you knew that, or at least a part of you did. It was the perfect setup.
My tendency to continually reassess myself gave you exactly what you needed to keep me trying. My ability to self-reflect is insane. It’s what kept me in this so long. Every time I got angry or was at the end of my rope, I would constantly reassess everything, think of your perspective, and try harder. I can’t imagine what that might have done in a real marriage. But I’m proud of that ability, and I’m not going to change it. It’s what helped me balance an incredible career with being a really good mom to my sons…it’s what keeps me involved in their lives, it’s what helps me cultivate my own interests, and it’s what kept me alive and mostly well the last decade of our marriage. I get to keep this quality.
You said I was selfish. I believed you. I tried harder. Guess what? I’m not selfish at all. I am actually pretty giving. Maybe I was selfish at some point, but not today.
You said I couldn’t dance and told me I should stop. I believed you and stopped. Guess what? Maybe I can’t dance, but I’m still going to do it. Often.
You had no hobbies, no interests outside of drinking and working out, and no friends…and you chastised me for mine, belittling me for some, berating me for others, and making me feel guilty for anything I enjoyed. Guess what? No more!
You said I was lazy. I believed you. I kept wondering why I just couldn’t do enough, ever… … But looking back on those years when you called me lazy… I got extra career credentials through 1200 hours of studying every year for five years on top of my full time job. I taught myself how to tile floors, build decks, rewire electricity, crochet, redo bathrooms, replace water pipes, fix heating ducts, build secret bookcases, garden, and countless other things. I scheduled every doctor’s appointment, stayed home with sick kids, made up creative birthday parties, didn’t miss plays or performances, traveled for work, and allowed you to guilt me into feeling that everything was my responsibility, including the burden of making our marriage work. Guess what? I’m not lazy. Never was.
You said I was stupid and shameful, and you were disgusted with my behavior. I believed you…but I still kept some of me anyway. I’m glad I danced on the tables at my family reunion while you frowned, even though I knew I’d pay for it later. I’m glad I rode on B’s shoulders in the wedding party, though I paid VERY DEARLY for that one. I regret that I let your opinions take so much of that from me the last several years. You knew I liked to have fun when you met me, yet you tried to beat it out of me through the years. You very nearly succeeded. But guess what? You didn’t. I see more of me every day. It makes me smile.
You wouldn’t let me have people over. Not overtly…you’d just make it incredibly uncomfortable when you walked in and they were there…even if I’d given you notice. My friends always knew it was time to get out when you came home crabby, but near the end I didn’t even allow them that chance because I ran out of ways to apologize for your behavior. The kids planned their friends coming and going around when you’d be home. Tyler actually said to our son—what is your Dad is always so angry about?—as he slipped out the door WHILE YOU DROVE UP. They waited for his Dad outside, then our son slunk back into his room through the side door to avoid seeing you. Guess what? All of that baggage went right out the door on your coattails. You’d probably self-combust if you knew how often random kids are here through meal times and overnight. Our kids are going to grow up friendly, social, and relaxed if I have any influence on it.
You said I needed help and something must be wrong with me. You said I had too many migraines and was always sick and slept too much. You said I had a mental problem and needed to see a counselor. I didn’t think I had a problem, but then I considered it because I just felt so exhausted…so often I couldn’t get up in the mornings and didn’t understand why…my headaches got worse and worse over time…I had periods of dizzy spells the doctors couldn’t figure out that scared me to death… Guess what? I did have a problem. It was you. I am fine now.
You made up ridiculous rules that you would yell at the kids, then you’d yell at me in front of the kids for the fact that I didn’t enforce them or do a good job, even if I just learned the rule that very minute. I patiently responded, not wanting to call you out in front of the kids, trying to set a good example. Your rules changed with your mood and none of us knew what to expect or how to meet your ever-evolving demands. When we tried we inevitably failed, and you never let anyone forget it…until you decided to move on and make an even more ridiculous rule. You created a scared, accommodating family who dreaded you coming home. You never proactively enforced the rules yourself; just yelled and expected me to enforce your whims or pay the price for being a horrible mother with no standards. Guess what? The day you walked out of the house we all sighed with relief and have never, ever looked back. Our home is warm and happy and always will be underneath it all, even when we have tough times. Those are MY standards.
You insulted my family. Every chance you got, you’d insult my mother, my father, my brother, my sister, my aunts and uncles and cousins. You made visiting them stressful and encouraged distance between us. It was exhausting “correcting” everything you said about them so you’d know it wasn’t okay…then you got good at hiding your insults so they were harder to unravel. You usually said you were joking, but I didn’t believe you. I know now that it was all designed to drive a wedge. I’m so thankful it never worked. I missed visiting my sister in Europe because of you and your needs and guilt…something I really regret, but I now forgive myself for. Guess what? They’re still here and I’m always going to have them.
You took advantage of me sexually. You violated my darkest fears that you only knew because I should have been able to trust you. You knew exactly how to hurt me and did. You pushed your deviant ideas on me and made me feel wrong for questioning them or having my own thoughts. You punished me if I said no, yet you shamed me if I said yes. I only asked you for one thing ever in our marriage—affection. You never gave it, yet you expected so much physically, and I “owed” it all to you. I am so appalled at the entire experience… it still nauseates me when I think about it. You wanted me to act like a prostitute in so many ways…and it was my “job” to comply. If I wouldn’t, you called me a lesbian. When that didn’t work you tried the prostitute again. You went back and forth between these two so fast it sometimes made my head spin. Could I be a lesbian prostitute?
You created so much guilt and shame that isn’t mine to own…and guess what? I’m neither of those. But you knew that already. I’ll probably get past those feelings someday. And I’m learning that not all men think those things are normal or expect them in a relationship.
You drank. You were visibly drunk so many times in the early years before you stopped getting sick. I can’t count the times I cleaned everything up, talked smoothly to the cops to move on and leave you alone, smoothed things over with guys you ticked off, bathed you, or put you to bed…and never told a soul to protect your “image”. I was never allowed to be drunk or out of control. I remember the one time I did when I was with you…long island teas with M and J after volleyball years ago. When we got home you just left me in the car spinning and went inside to watch tv. (J held M’s hair back while she puked.) I was so shocked that you didn’t care. When I finally made it to the front door it was actually locked. After I fumbled my way in with the keys, you didn’t even look up from the tv as I tried to make it up the stairs. You said, “oh, look who decided to come inside,” with a smirk, and changed the channel. You left the house early the next morning with the instructions to “clean up after yourself before I come home.” You told everyone for years how disgusting I was that night and never let me forget it, bringing it up constantly. Guess what? Strangers treat me better than that.
You abused our marriage so deeply…you had me jumping through so many hoops to try to keep you happy that I lost my own sense of sanity, and I too started yelling at the kids…partially out of fear that they’d make you angry (and I couldn’t handle any more), and partially because I had absolutely no emotion or energy left for them. I wish I could have that back. I wish I had stopped it before it got there. I hate the woman I became that last year. But guess what? Three bowls of spaghetti on your precious kitchen floor says it’s going to be okay. I’m coming back. Someday they’ll forgive me. Someday I’ll forgive me.
You said I was fat. You told me you’d divorce me if I got too fat, because you don’t date fat chicks. Thankfully I held my ground on that one and never fully believed you. I even forced you to stop making pig noises when I ate, especially in front of the kids. When we were out and you stared at other women who happened to be older, and I said I hoped I looked that good at that age, you smiled and said I should wish I looked that good now. You said I was ugly when I was pregnant and told me you’d leave if I weighed more than you. Then ironically when I lost weight due to stress, you told me you didn’t like skinny chicks. Guess what? It doesn’t matter if I’m fat or skinny. People who matter are going to like me for me.
You told me time and again that you were the only reason I succeeded at anything, and that you’d take everything if we divorced. When we were only married a few years you gave me THE NAME of the divorce attorney you’d use and told me I’d never get a dime because you had ties to him and he was the best in town. I was so confused as to why you even said that. You said everyone could easily see that my success at work was due to your support and assistance. After the harassment at work you told me you would take the kids away from me if I ever left because now you had ammunition and everyone would know how horrible I was. Every chance you had after that you reminded me you could take everything from me and I would never get the kids because you had the proof to tell everyone who I really was. But guess what? I’m sure glad I took that risk last year and divorced you. I think I’m doing okay.
You gave me glimpses of your true self. Your eyes always had such an odd, almost hateful look to them when you said these things:
“I’m just not good at relationships.”
“We shouldn’t have gotten married so young, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I’m really no good for you, you should run away now.”
“Son, don’t get married when you’re young. You’ll only regret it.”
“Marriage is for fools.”
“I shouldn’t have ever procreated.”
“I’m not the kind of person who will ever feel content or happy.”
“I’m just addicted to sex. It’s a part of me and I can’t change that. You need to adapt.”
“You don’t really know me. I’m a horrible person.”
“I wasn’t meant to be a father.”
Countless comments like these came out at very odd times…throwing me off-balance. In hindsight it was usually part of a different conversation you didn’t want to have. Guess what? Apparently sometimes you told me the truth. Wish I knew that.
You taught the boys to disrespect me, to say rude, dismissive things, to fling anger around, and to assume I couldn’t do anything. I went out of my way to correct them when they did it to you, to defend you even when you were ridiculous in the way you treated them, and to present a united front…giving up some of my values in the process. Guess what? They will overcome you. They will become strong, gentle, kind men who know right from wrong. And they now see that their mother is very capable and deserves much better than what you provided. And they will see you too.
You constantly tried to get me to quit my job. I wasn’t a good enough mother, I wasn’t a good enough housekeeper, “most women” make dinner every night, do the dishes every night, and clean everything in the house. Even though I worked outside the house more hours than you did and made more money than you did, these were always my burdens. You told everyone I didn’t ever cook or clean, and for some reason I let you…out of guilt you created, and because I thought you needed to feel good about yourself. You wanted the house cold and spotless, the kids’ toys put away the minute they were done with them...but you wanted ME to be the one to make it that way. Everything you did around the house was a “favor”, and you always said I was so much luckier than most women...because most men wouldn’t put up with me the way you did. You claimed you did all the work and I did nothing, yet when I tried to outline the chores on a sheet of paper and highlight who should do which pieces…you said it was stupid and that I gave you all of the hard ones. When I offered to switch them all and take your half, you said that was ridiculous and tore it up. You didn’t want me to succeed at anything, as if my successes hurt you in some way. You worked so hard to coerce me to quit my job and try to be perfect at home so I could fail completely and lose myself. Guess what? Some tiny part of me KNEW this and never let it happen, and I’m so much better off today for it! Most days my house is a mess, but the people in it are loved and happy.
You tore me from my friends and family every time I gained security. I willingly moved each time, trying to help you get what you needed, doing what was best “for the family”. I sacrificed time and again, not knowing that what you feared most was really my close connection with other people. I gave up friendships you thought could damage you. I begged you to find peace so we could stay in our last neighborhood. I’ll never forget the hollow look in your eyes when you asked me if I thought it was weird that you could be fine just leaving town and never seeing any of your friends or family again. I thought that was horrible and couldn’t comprehend it…but at the same time knew it was true. And still I moved with you! Guess what? You didn’t succeed. I came home. I am keeping my friends and staying with my family for as long as God will let me. It’s a beauty you will likely never know.
You lied to me constantly, from the very beginning. I didn’t know it. I trusted you, again and again. I tried to have so many conversations with you that I thought were real…and you’d magically shift reality underneath me so that I didn’t know up from down. The hundred marriage books I read through the years on how to connect with your spouse and have productive arguments never prepared me for you manipulating reality and twisting things so that I was more confused at the end than the beginning. I couldn’t understand why we could never get anywhere, and I’d keep accepting blame, resetting myself, learning more, and trying again. I eventually started to question my own truths, and I didn’t trust myself or what my senses told me anymore. I thought I was going crazy. Guess what? You didn’t want us to get anywhere, to uncover truths, to make progress, or to find the real you. You will always keep running. I’m not crazy, and I can see clearly now. I won’t be blinded again.
You said you’re just not attracted to stretch marks, and that I shouldn’t expect you to be attracted to me after the kids were born. You told me repeatedly that I didn’t look good in my clothes and that I didn’t try hard enough. You always said that people must always wonder why you’re with me. You tried to force me to change myself to meet your idea of beautiful. When I finally agreed after years of pressure…you flippantly remarked later that it wasn’t really attractive after all. Guess what? I’m floored I listened to any of that crap. For a long time I was ashamed of listening to you because I knew it was ridiculous…but it’s easy to be lured in by someone who supposedly “loves” you. I’m working on this one. I’ll get there.
You abandoned me when I needed you the most. Not after we moved across the country. By then I didn’t need you…I just felt like we owed it to each other, our kids, and God to keep trying. You abandoned me…ten years ago when my boss sexually harassed and assaulted me on that business trip, then wouldn’t stop back home until he was fired. You told me it was my fault and I brought it on myself…you reminded me of stupid situations I’d gotten into in my late teens…then you asked how I could do this to you…and you never offered one single word of comfort or loving touch in all those weeks of pain. You told me every day that you couldn’t believe I could continue to work for that company and made me feel guilty for wanting to keep a job I enjoyed, yet you bought yourself a new truck while I was at my Mom’s trying to recover, saying that you deserved it for having to deal with this, even though we couldn’t afford it at the time…so I couldn’t have quit even if I wanted to. You watched me crying, crumbling, and losing weight, and you looked at me from across the room with that half-detached, half-contemptible stare, as if I were a repulsive person not worth the time of day. You made me question myself so deeply and feel cheap, and used…………..That’s the moment I almost cracked. I remember sitting in the boys’ room night after night while you were sleeping, holding my knees, rocking back and forth, crying because I thought I just couldn’t make it another day. I couldn’t bear that I’d be letting them down………. I will never forget the day I made the choice that I would be okay, and also that I’d stay in this marriage—fully understanding that you were incapable of anyone’s emotions except your own, and accepting that I had committed to you for good or bad times, that we had two little kids, and that I could handle that void. I did well with that for a long time. When my cousin died and you scoffed at me when I teared up for several days afterwards, saying coldly, with no emotion, “You need to get over this. Go see a counselor or something if that’s what it takes, I’m not going to live like this”, it didn’t knock my knees out from underneath me. The words still shocked me, but on an emotional level I had learned to expect it.
You abandoned your kids. I didn’t know how much you could still hurt me until I watched them fall. But you didn’t just leave. You devastated them. You tore them apart verbally and emotionally for months, while you pretended you were working on your alcoholism. I watched, and in my naivety allowed you to shred them while I wiped their tears and explained that you didn’t mean it. I tried so hard to intervene, to do things better, to protect them, whatever it took…just like you knew I would. In the process I gave up even more of myself, my values, my soul. In hindsight I don’t think you’d likely even remember what you said and did to any of us. The pain of them crying and being sick and feeling alone across the country for a full year was excruciating…almost unbearable. Thankfully, it’s what finally enabled me to leave…to take them with me and give them a safe home where they belonged. For a long time I felt overwhelming guilt at not protecting them sooner. I still do when I look at them and think about the choices I could have made ten years ago, of getting them out of your world when they were still babies. But guess what? I did make the choice at probably the hardest time and place. One blessing of living with you over the last decade is how well it prepared me emotionally to live in utter fear and isolation and in the midst of it find the strength to get out and take these two precious boys with me across the country…and it’s never too late. They are safe, they are loved…and I will go to my grave helping them unlearn your behaviors.
Waking up is painful. Like a tiny drop of toxin in my coffee every morning, you were slowly poisoning me…so slowly I didn’t see it happening until I started lifting the 20 year old fleece from my eyes and blinking in the sunlight. It happened so, so, gradually…but I thank God every day for my newfound vision. You can never fool me or have any part of me again. I gave. I gave so much of me that I’m lucky to have had some left to rebuild. Take what I gave you and do what you will, because I give you no more. No more love, no more caring, no more sympathy or empathy, not even any more anger or tears. Yes I will still cry, but the tears I now shed are for those little pieces of me…as I find them, fix them, and watch them grow. I fully release myself from every last bit of you.
And guess what? There’s more of me left than I thought. I don’t know who I’ll be in ten or twenty years, but I sure hope it’s a beautiful blend of the fun, carefree, playful, naïve girl who met you 21 years ago, coupled with the loving, caring, giving, cautious woman I became.
This is my final farewell,
Praying
I've been thinking a lot lately about how hard it is for us to separate from ones we love, and how much baggage goes along for the ride. Feels to me like several people are currently considering splits with somewhat abusive or narcissistic partners. I left 2 1/2 years ago. A little over a year into post-divorce recovery I wrote my farewell letter--never to give him--but I read it out loud (that was hard!) to a few of my closest friends and then we threw away all of my wedding memorabilia--sort of a ritual. I did this to make it very REAL and ask them to hold me accountable to remembering the truth. I originally thought the letter idea was a bit hokey, but one day I suddenly sat down out of the blue and wrote it…all in one sitting…like it was ready to pour out. I thought it might help some of you to see it here, though I know it's long. I took a few things out, but most of it is here.
After I wrote it, I re-read it the next day and suddenly started crying for "that poor woman". That woman was me, but I was really seeing her story for the first time. I definitely owed her more compassion.
Just saying…it's a tough, tough road, but there is beautiful life on the other side. I am so very content now. I have forgiven myself, which was hardest of all. You all deserve peace and contentment too. Don't accept "periodically not horrible". And ask yourselves…would your letter look as unhealthy as this?
Here goes:
Dear XAH,
I found some more pieces of myself today. It’s random, but it happens more and more often lately. When I see them, I have to look a second time, as if at first glance they may not be real. In some ways it’s like meeting a new person, while in other ways it’s like running into an old friend that I just in that very instant realize I really, really missed. I sometimes wonder how long this will keep happening…but it’s an incredibly amazing experience. It’s almost like when your leg falls asleep, and when you realize it’s gone, for a few minutes you look at it and poke it as if it’s not really yours, then it slowly warms up and becomes a part of you again. This is the best part of everything you brought to my life—the fact that I didn’t forever lose these pieces, and that my treasure hunt has just begun.
Your hurts started out small. So small that it was almost imperceptible to me as a happy, confident person. I attributed it to your lack of self-worth, and knew I could handle it because you must not mean it. In any conversation I tried to have about it, you acted like a wounded puppy I was attacking and turned it all back around on me. Even though I just was trying to talk about things honestly…you alternated between attacking me and turning on the “I’m a horrible person, why would you be married to me” routine, complete with those ever-convincing tears telling me I was a horrible, demanding wife for expecting more. After the first several encounters, I danced carefully around confronting you. I quickly taught you that your self-pity would always make me back down from any expectation. Looking back today I am appalled at how much I accepted out of the fear of “hurting” you. But you knew that, or at least a part of you did. It was the perfect setup.
My tendency to continually reassess myself gave you exactly what you needed to keep me trying. My ability to self-reflect is insane. It’s what kept me in this so long. Every time I got angry or was at the end of my rope, I would constantly reassess everything, think of your perspective, and try harder. I can’t imagine what that might have done in a real marriage. But I’m proud of that ability, and I’m not going to change it. It’s what helped me balance an incredible career with being a really good mom to my sons…it’s what keeps me involved in their lives, it’s what helps me cultivate my own interests, and it’s what kept me alive and mostly well the last decade of our marriage. I get to keep this quality.
You said I was selfish. I believed you. I tried harder. Guess what? I’m not selfish at all. I am actually pretty giving. Maybe I was selfish at some point, but not today.
You said I couldn’t dance and told me I should stop. I believed you and stopped. Guess what? Maybe I can’t dance, but I’m still going to do it. Often.
You had no hobbies, no interests outside of drinking and working out, and no friends…and you chastised me for mine, belittling me for some, berating me for others, and making me feel guilty for anything I enjoyed. Guess what? No more!
You said I was lazy. I believed you. I kept wondering why I just couldn’t do enough, ever… … But looking back on those years when you called me lazy… I got extra career credentials through 1200 hours of studying every year for five years on top of my full time job. I taught myself how to tile floors, build decks, rewire electricity, crochet, redo bathrooms, replace water pipes, fix heating ducts, build secret bookcases, garden, and countless other things. I scheduled every doctor’s appointment, stayed home with sick kids, made up creative birthday parties, didn’t miss plays or performances, traveled for work, and allowed you to guilt me into feeling that everything was my responsibility, including the burden of making our marriage work. Guess what? I’m not lazy. Never was.
You said I was stupid and shameful, and you were disgusted with my behavior. I believed you…but I still kept some of me anyway. I’m glad I danced on the tables at my family reunion while you frowned, even though I knew I’d pay for it later. I’m glad I rode on B’s shoulders in the wedding party, though I paid VERY DEARLY for that one. I regret that I let your opinions take so much of that from me the last several years. You knew I liked to have fun when you met me, yet you tried to beat it out of me through the years. You very nearly succeeded. But guess what? You didn’t. I see more of me every day. It makes me smile.
You wouldn’t let me have people over. Not overtly…you’d just make it incredibly uncomfortable when you walked in and they were there…even if I’d given you notice. My friends always knew it was time to get out when you came home crabby, but near the end I didn’t even allow them that chance because I ran out of ways to apologize for your behavior. The kids planned their friends coming and going around when you’d be home. Tyler actually said to our son—what is your Dad is always so angry about?—as he slipped out the door WHILE YOU DROVE UP. They waited for his Dad outside, then our son slunk back into his room through the side door to avoid seeing you. Guess what? All of that baggage went right out the door on your coattails. You’d probably self-combust if you knew how often random kids are here through meal times and overnight. Our kids are going to grow up friendly, social, and relaxed if I have any influence on it.
You said I needed help and something must be wrong with me. You said I had too many migraines and was always sick and slept too much. You said I had a mental problem and needed to see a counselor. I didn’t think I had a problem, but then I considered it because I just felt so exhausted…so often I couldn’t get up in the mornings and didn’t understand why…my headaches got worse and worse over time…I had periods of dizzy spells the doctors couldn’t figure out that scared me to death… Guess what? I did have a problem. It was you. I am fine now.
You made up ridiculous rules that you would yell at the kids, then you’d yell at me in front of the kids for the fact that I didn’t enforce them or do a good job, even if I just learned the rule that very minute. I patiently responded, not wanting to call you out in front of the kids, trying to set a good example. Your rules changed with your mood and none of us knew what to expect or how to meet your ever-evolving demands. When we tried we inevitably failed, and you never let anyone forget it…until you decided to move on and make an even more ridiculous rule. You created a scared, accommodating family who dreaded you coming home. You never proactively enforced the rules yourself; just yelled and expected me to enforce your whims or pay the price for being a horrible mother with no standards. Guess what? The day you walked out of the house we all sighed with relief and have never, ever looked back. Our home is warm and happy and always will be underneath it all, even when we have tough times. Those are MY standards.
You insulted my family. Every chance you got, you’d insult my mother, my father, my brother, my sister, my aunts and uncles and cousins. You made visiting them stressful and encouraged distance between us. It was exhausting “correcting” everything you said about them so you’d know it wasn’t okay…then you got good at hiding your insults so they were harder to unravel. You usually said you were joking, but I didn’t believe you. I know now that it was all designed to drive a wedge. I’m so thankful it never worked. I missed visiting my sister in Europe because of you and your needs and guilt…something I really regret, but I now forgive myself for. Guess what? They’re still here and I’m always going to have them.
You took advantage of me sexually. You violated my darkest fears that you only knew because I should have been able to trust you. You knew exactly how to hurt me and did. You pushed your deviant ideas on me and made me feel wrong for questioning them or having my own thoughts. You punished me if I said no, yet you shamed me if I said yes. I only asked you for one thing ever in our marriage—affection. You never gave it, yet you expected so much physically, and I “owed” it all to you. I am so appalled at the entire experience… it still nauseates me when I think about it. You wanted me to act like a prostitute in so many ways…and it was my “job” to comply. If I wouldn’t, you called me a lesbian. When that didn’t work you tried the prostitute again. You went back and forth between these two so fast it sometimes made my head spin. Could I be a lesbian prostitute?
You created so much guilt and shame that isn’t mine to own…and guess what? I’m neither of those. But you knew that already. I’ll probably get past those feelings someday. And I’m learning that not all men think those things are normal or expect them in a relationship.You drank. You were visibly drunk so many times in the early years before you stopped getting sick. I can’t count the times I cleaned everything up, talked smoothly to the cops to move on and leave you alone, smoothed things over with guys you ticked off, bathed you, or put you to bed…and never told a soul to protect your “image”. I was never allowed to be drunk or out of control. I remember the one time I did when I was with you…long island teas with M and J after volleyball years ago. When we got home you just left me in the car spinning and went inside to watch tv. (J held M’s hair back while she puked.) I was so shocked that you didn’t care. When I finally made it to the front door it was actually locked. After I fumbled my way in with the keys, you didn’t even look up from the tv as I tried to make it up the stairs. You said, “oh, look who decided to come inside,” with a smirk, and changed the channel. You left the house early the next morning with the instructions to “clean up after yourself before I come home.” You told everyone for years how disgusting I was that night and never let me forget it, bringing it up constantly. Guess what? Strangers treat me better than that.
You abused our marriage so deeply…you had me jumping through so many hoops to try to keep you happy that I lost my own sense of sanity, and I too started yelling at the kids…partially out of fear that they’d make you angry (and I couldn’t handle any more), and partially because I had absolutely no emotion or energy left for them. I wish I could have that back. I wish I had stopped it before it got there. I hate the woman I became that last year. But guess what? Three bowls of spaghetti on your precious kitchen floor says it’s going to be okay. I’m coming back. Someday they’ll forgive me. Someday I’ll forgive me.
You said I was fat. You told me you’d divorce me if I got too fat, because you don’t date fat chicks. Thankfully I held my ground on that one and never fully believed you. I even forced you to stop making pig noises when I ate, especially in front of the kids. When we were out and you stared at other women who happened to be older, and I said I hoped I looked that good at that age, you smiled and said I should wish I looked that good now. You said I was ugly when I was pregnant and told me you’d leave if I weighed more than you. Then ironically when I lost weight due to stress, you told me you didn’t like skinny chicks. Guess what? It doesn’t matter if I’m fat or skinny. People who matter are going to like me for me.
You told me time and again that you were the only reason I succeeded at anything, and that you’d take everything if we divorced. When we were only married a few years you gave me THE NAME of the divorce attorney you’d use and told me I’d never get a dime because you had ties to him and he was the best in town. I was so confused as to why you even said that. You said everyone could easily see that my success at work was due to your support and assistance. After the harassment at work you told me you would take the kids away from me if I ever left because now you had ammunition and everyone would know how horrible I was. Every chance you had after that you reminded me you could take everything from me and I would never get the kids because you had the proof to tell everyone who I really was. But guess what? I’m sure glad I took that risk last year and divorced you. I think I’m doing okay.
You gave me glimpses of your true self. Your eyes always had such an odd, almost hateful look to them when you said these things:
“I’m just not good at relationships.”
“We shouldn’t have gotten married so young, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I’m really no good for you, you should run away now.”
“Son, don’t get married when you’re young. You’ll only regret it.”
“Marriage is for fools.”
“I shouldn’t have ever procreated.”
“I’m not the kind of person who will ever feel content or happy.”
“I’m just addicted to sex. It’s a part of me and I can’t change that. You need to adapt.”
“You don’t really know me. I’m a horrible person.”
“I wasn’t meant to be a father.”
Countless comments like these came out at very odd times…throwing me off-balance. In hindsight it was usually part of a different conversation you didn’t want to have. Guess what? Apparently sometimes you told me the truth. Wish I knew that.
You taught the boys to disrespect me, to say rude, dismissive things, to fling anger around, and to assume I couldn’t do anything. I went out of my way to correct them when they did it to you, to defend you even when you were ridiculous in the way you treated them, and to present a united front…giving up some of my values in the process. Guess what? They will overcome you. They will become strong, gentle, kind men who know right from wrong. And they now see that their mother is very capable and deserves much better than what you provided. And they will see you too.
You constantly tried to get me to quit my job. I wasn’t a good enough mother, I wasn’t a good enough housekeeper, “most women” make dinner every night, do the dishes every night, and clean everything in the house. Even though I worked outside the house more hours than you did and made more money than you did, these were always my burdens. You told everyone I didn’t ever cook or clean, and for some reason I let you…out of guilt you created, and because I thought you needed to feel good about yourself. You wanted the house cold and spotless, the kids’ toys put away the minute they were done with them...but you wanted ME to be the one to make it that way. Everything you did around the house was a “favor”, and you always said I was so much luckier than most women...because most men wouldn’t put up with me the way you did. You claimed you did all the work and I did nothing, yet when I tried to outline the chores on a sheet of paper and highlight who should do which pieces…you said it was stupid and that I gave you all of the hard ones. When I offered to switch them all and take your half, you said that was ridiculous and tore it up. You didn’t want me to succeed at anything, as if my successes hurt you in some way. You worked so hard to coerce me to quit my job and try to be perfect at home so I could fail completely and lose myself. Guess what? Some tiny part of me KNEW this and never let it happen, and I’m so much better off today for it! Most days my house is a mess, but the people in it are loved and happy.
You tore me from my friends and family every time I gained security. I willingly moved each time, trying to help you get what you needed, doing what was best “for the family”. I sacrificed time and again, not knowing that what you feared most was really my close connection with other people. I gave up friendships you thought could damage you. I begged you to find peace so we could stay in our last neighborhood. I’ll never forget the hollow look in your eyes when you asked me if I thought it was weird that you could be fine just leaving town and never seeing any of your friends or family again. I thought that was horrible and couldn’t comprehend it…but at the same time knew it was true. And still I moved with you! Guess what? You didn’t succeed. I came home. I am keeping my friends and staying with my family for as long as God will let me. It’s a beauty you will likely never know.
You lied to me constantly, from the very beginning. I didn’t know it. I trusted you, again and again. I tried to have so many conversations with you that I thought were real…and you’d magically shift reality underneath me so that I didn’t know up from down. The hundred marriage books I read through the years on how to connect with your spouse and have productive arguments never prepared me for you manipulating reality and twisting things so that I was more confused at the end than the beginning. I couldn’t understand why we could never get anywhere, and I’d keep accepting blame, resetting myself, learning more, and trying again. I eventually started to question my own truths, and I didn’t trust myself or what my senses told me anymore. I thought I was going crazy. Guess what? You didn’t want us to get anywhere, to uncover truths, to make progress, or to find the real you. You will always keep running. I’m not crazy, and I can see clearly now. I won’t be blinded again.
You said you’re just not attracted to stretch marks, and that I shouldn’t expect you to be attracted to me after the kids were born. You told me repeatedly that I didn’t look good in my clothes and that I didn’t try hard enough. You always said that people must always wonder why you’re with me. You tried to force me to change myself to meet your idea of beautiful. When I finally agreed after years of pressure…you flippantly remarked later that it wasn’t really attractive after all. Guess what? I’m floored I listened to any of that crap. For a long time I was ashamed of listening to you because I knew it was ridiculous…but it’s easy to be lured in by someone who supposedly “loves” you. I’m working on this one. I’ll get there.
You abandoned me when I needed you the most. Not after we moved across the country. By then I didn’t need you…I just felt like we owed it to each other, our kids, and God to keep trying. You abandoned me…ten years ago when my boss sexually harassed and assaulted me on that business trip, then wouldn’t stop back home until he was fired. You told me it was my fault and I brought it on myself…you reminded me of stupid situations I’d gotten into in my late teens…then you asked how I could do this to you…and you never offered one single word of comfort or loving touch in all those weeks of pain. You told me every day that you couldn’t believe I could continue to work for that company and made me feel guilty for wanting to keep a job I enjoyed, yet you bought yourself a new truck while I was at my Mom’s trying to recover, saying that you deserved it for having to deal with this, even though we couldn’t afford it at the time…so I couldn’t have quit even if I wanted to. You watched me crying, crumbling, and losing weight, and you looked at me from across the room with that half-detached, half-contemptible stare, as if I were a repulsive person not worth the time of day. You made me question myself so deeply and feel cheap, and used…………..That’s the moment I almost cracked. I remember sitting in the boys’ room night after night while you were sleeping, holding my knees, rocking back and forth, crying because I thought I just couldn’t make it another day. I couldn’t bear that I’d be letting them down………. I will never forget the day I made the choice that I would be okay, and also that I’d stay in this marriage—fully understanding that you were incapable of anyone’s emotions except your own, and accepting that I had committed to you for good or bad times, that we had two little kids, and that I could handle that void. I did well with that for a long time. When my cousin died and you scoffed at me when I teared up for several days afterwards, saying coldly, with no emotion, “You need to get over this. Go see a counselor or something if that’s what it takes, I’m not going to live like this”, it didn’t knock my knees out from underneath me. The words still shocked me, but on an emotional level I had learned to expect it.
You abandoned your kids. I didn’t know how much you could still hurt me until I watched them fall. But you didn’t just leave. You devastated them. You tore them apart verbally and emotionally for months, while you pretended you were working on your alcoholism. I watched, and in my naivety allowed you to shred them while I wiped their tears and explained that you didn’t mean it. I tried so hard to intervene, to do things better, to protect them, whatever it took…just like you knew I would. In the process I gave up even more of myself, my values, my soul. In hindsight I don’t think you’d likely even remember what you said and did to any of us. The pain of them crying and being sick and feeling alone across the country for a full year was excruciating…almost unbearable. Thankfully, it’s what finally enabled me to leave…to take them with me and give them a safe home where they belonged. For a long time I felt overwhelming guilt at not protecting them sooner. I still do when I look at them and think about the choices I could have made ten years ago, of getting them out of your world when they were still babies. But guess what? I did make the choice at probably the hardest time and place. One blessing of living with you over the last decade is how well it prepared me emotionally to live in utter fear and isolation and in the midst of it find the strength to get out and take these two precious boys with me across the country…and it’s never too late. They are safe, they are loved…and I will go to my grave helping them unlearn your behaviors.
Waking up is painful. Like a tiny drop of toxin in my coffee every morning, you were slowly poisoning me…so slowly I didn’t see it happening until I started lifting the 20 year old fleece from my eyes and blinking in the sunlight. It happened so, so, gradually…but I thank God every day for my newfound vision. You can never fool me or have any part of me again. I gave. I gave so much of me that I’m lucky to have had some left to rebuild. Take what I gave you and do what you will, because I give you no more. No more love, no more caring, no more sympathy or empathy, not even any more anger or tears. Yes I will still cry, but the tears I now shed are for those little pieces of me…as I find them, fix them, and watch them grow. I fully release myself from every last bit of you.
And guess what? There’s more of me left than I thought. I don’t know who I’ll be in ten or twenty years, but I sure hope it’s a beautiful blend of the fun, carefree, playful, naïve girl who met you 21 years ago, coupled with the loving, caring, giving, cautious woman I became.
This is my final farewell,
Praying
Member
Join Date: May 2014
Location: Alabama
Posts: 493
Thank you so much for sharing this. It is a touching wonderfully articulate letter. I'm so proud of you for all you have been through and all you have accomplished. You are a survivor and an inspiration to your sons and to all of us on this forum and I'm sure to all of your friends and family. Bless you for opening up yourself to us. Hugs!!! Thank you for posting!
Member
Join Date: May 2010
Location: USA
Posts: 13,560
Many, many hugs. I think it's really healthy to write it all out like this. You are right, there is so much more left in you that is bright and beautiful, with a wonderful future ahead!!!!!!
Many hugs and much love coming your way!
Many hugs and much love coming your way!
Member
Join Date: Jan 2012
Posts: 3,699
Man, I want to walk up to this terrorist and head butt him in the face. (Thank you recovery for helping me keep this a fantasy rather than trying to PI his location...)
You, my dear are such a strong amazing woman. Thank you for sharing this - your perseverance is so inspiring and has left me in awe. (((HUGS))) to you and your kids.
You, my dear are such a strong amazing woman. Thank you for sharing this - your perseverance is so inspiring and has left me in awe. (((HUGS))) to you and your kids.
Member
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 250
Very powerful! Thank you for sharing. There are so many people that will identify with what you wrote. So many are paralyzed with fear about leaving an addicted spouse/significant other, and that fear becomes a prison. You've shown what it's like to break out of that prison and to live freely with your sons. Many hugs and blessings to you and your sons.
Last edited by Sara21; 07-09-2015 at 02:50 PM. Reason: spacing
Member
Join Date: Mar 2011
Location: USA
Posts: 3,095
Thank you so much for sharing that letter-- it was hard to read-- a lot of it was very similar to a letter I might write but not send to my xAH... It's so sad how much of ourselves we let them hurt and destroy and I wonder if Ill ever be able to find my way entirely back to the old me...
Currently Active Users Viewing this Thread: 1 (0 members and 1 guests)
