Sep 2013
The things you find when you leave your husband, are not the things you think you'll find.
A missing earring, a couple of quarters, a dime, a nickel and three pennies all stuck behind the makeup.
Those are the things you're happy to see. Those are the safe things. The things that make you think, "oh, well it's a good thing I'm finally cleaning out this cupboard." But then, then you stop. Because you aren't just cleaning up. It's not spring, this isn't a cleaning rampage. This is packing.
This is leaving.
This is the hardest thing you've ever had to do and no one is there for you.
This isn't anyone else's battle to fight.
It's a long time coming, 6 years of tears. 6 years of laughing.
it's the laughing that made you stay.
All the conversations about being so unhappy. All the friends who have said
"Well, if he really makes you that unhappy why don't you leave?"
As if the difference between happy and unhappy is as easy as I want it to be.
Like hopscotch.
Because what if it's all true?
What if the reason you're unhappy is because you are
"An embarrassment as a wife?
Who can't cook.
Who can't clean.
Who dropped out of school.
Who barely has a job.
You're embarrassed 'cause I'm yelling? How do you think I feel?"
If all that is true then leaving won't make you happy.
Leaving isn't going to change anything but your address, marital status and financial situation.
Leaving won't solve the problem, staying will.
Staying, there's no way in hell you're staying. You might have a snowballs chance out there but in here you're already dead.
Slowly every time you remember it isn't true.
I can cook, pasta, casserole, chocolate chip cookies and stir fry.
I make bacon and eggs, pancakes and waffles, coffee and cigarettes.
I can clean, vacuum the house, throw all the q-tips away that are left on the counter, pick up dishes that are not mine all over the house, but if not wanting to be a maid means failure I'll take it.
I'm going back to school, I'm not a good student, college is scary but I'm tackling those demons.
I have a job, I'm a nanny, I'm helping raise someone else's kid because I think that's worth while.
I am not embarrassed by myself. I like who I am.
YOU cannot take that away from me.
So I'm going to leave, for fear of more scars and just because the scars don't show doesn't mean they aren't there.
Because the things you find when you leave aren't found in the make-up cupboard.
A missing earring, a couple of quarters, a dime, a nickel and three pennies all stuck behind the makeup.
Those are the things you're happy to see. Those are the safe things. The things that make you think, "oh, well it's a good thing I'm finally cleaning out this cupboard." But then, then you stop. Because you aren't just cleaning up. It's not spring, this isn't a cleaning rampage. This is packing.
This is leaving.
This is the hardest thing you've ever had to do and no one is there for you.
This isn't anyone else's battle to fight.
It's a long time coming, 6 years of tears. 6 years of laughing.
it's the laughing that made you stay.
All the conversations about being so unhappy. All the friends who have said
"Well, if he really makes you that unhappy why don't you leave?"
As if the difference between happy and unhappy is as easy as I want it to be.
Like hopscotch.
Because what if it's all true?
What if the reason you're unhappy is because you are
"An embarrassment as a wife?
Who can't cook.
Who can't clean.
Who dropped out of school.
Who barely has a job.
You're embarrassed 'cause I'm yelling? How do you think I feel?"
If all that is true then leaving won't make you happy.
Leaving isn't going to change anything but your address, marital status and financial situation.
Leaving won't solve the problem, staying will.
Staying, there's no way in hell you're staying. You might have a snowballs chance out there but in here you're already dead.
Slowly every time you remember it isn't true.
I can cook, pasta, casserole, chocolate chip cookies and stir fry.
I make bacon and eggs, pancakes and waffles, coffee and cigarettes.
I can clean, vacuum the house, throw all the q-tips away that are left on the counter, pick up dishes that are not mine all over the house, but if not wanting to be a maid means failure I'll take it.
I'm going back to school, I'm not a good student, college is scary but I'm tackling those demons.
I have a job, I'm a nanny, I'm helping raise someone else's kid because I think that's worth while.
I am not embarrassed by myself. I like who I am.
YOU cannot take that away from me.
So I'm going to leave, for fear of more scars and just because the scars don't show doesn't mean they aren't there.
Because the things you find when you leave aren't found in the make-up cupboard.
