Love means many things to many people. To some, it means everything, is cherished,honored and nurished.To others, it is nothing more than a pretty 4 letter word tossed about, that sounds good when you say it. Other than that, they don't have a frigging clue. They put no thought or consideration into the meaning. To them, it is a word and nothing more.
I once thought that love, and what people wanted from love was all the same. I was wrong.
I have spent a good portion of my life in search of "True Love", although I would never admit that to myself, because, to do so, would mean I needed someone else.
A "True Love", based in reality and not fantasy.
A "True Love", that lives and grows in the present, and not hanging in the balance of "one day", and "soon".
A "True Love", that was ever present and constant, not on and off like a light switch,or here today, gone tomorrow.
At 19 years of age, I married an older man. He never plugged into being married, and despite a piece of paper that bound us together, he remained a single man.
His wants and needs were always more important than mine. He never....NEVER saw or even acknowledged me. It was all about him, I was only there like a stick of furniture.
He never needed me as a person, or woman. He never noticed, nor did he care when I was sad, lonely or in pain. I quickly learned, very early in the marriage that I was on my own.
I was devastated when my Mother died in 1987. Leaving the hospital after her death, I sank down in the seat, crying from the depths of my soul. Never once did he reach over to even pat my hand, instead, I was told to shut up that he couldn't think straight and all the "racket", I was making, made it hard for him to drive.
A few weeks later, on a cold, Saturday night, I woke up and began crying in bed. He kicked me and told me once more to shut up, that he was trying to sleep.
I crawled out of bed and instead of going into the living room, which was just beside the master bedroom, went into the den, where several walls separated the rooms.
I curled up on the couch in a fetal position. Mother's smiling face in a photograph inches from me. I tried to be quiet, and don't think I was making that much noise, when suddenly he burst into the room, eyes full of rage.
"What the f**k is wrong with you? I'm trying to sleep, now shut the hell up!"
I waited until I heard him get back in bed. Grabbed a coat from the closet, keys from my purse, and headed outside to the car. I wasn't going anywhere, I just needed a place where I could cry and not disturb him.
It was so, cold, but I dare not crank the car. Shivering, I sat there alone and cried just as loud as I wanted to......Until......the back door opens....He looked around for a second. I thought he was just making sure that I had not left. Spotting me in the car, a string of curses filled the air, and he started down the steps.
When he reached the car I rolled down the window.
"What the hell are you doing....? Where the f**k do you think you are going at this time of the morning?"
"Not going anywhere. I was upset, and didn't want to disturb you...so...."
"All you do is disturb me! I can't even sleep for you!"
"I'm out here. You can't even hear me....."
"Get your f**kin', worthless ass back inside right now!"
I won't go into any more of the converstaion, and actually, can't really believe that I am writing this. Even years later, it is still painful. That is just one incident of hundreds.
So, over the years, I learned to remain in the background, to fly under the radar, to be invisible. To expect nothing, to ask for nothing.
If I was sick, I kept it to myself the best I could, never letting him know about anything if I could help it, because, he would always get mad and accuse me of faking it as a ploy to get attention.
To people on the outside looking in, it might seem that I had it made. I could stay home and raise my children without having to work. I was "lucky" enough to snag the most eligible bachelor in north east Alabama and west Georgia. Believe me when I tell you that there was not a single woman within a 100 mile radius that wasn't trying to draw his ass down the aisle, and right into, "I now pronounce you husband and wife". Little did they know the HELL I was living!
In therapy, connecting the dots in my life, I didn't think him and those years had affected me. I was wrong, they did.
I became so comfortable with being invisible and keeping things to myself, it was very....VERY.....hard, to reach a place, where I trusted someone enough to open up with them. In the back of my mind was always the thought: I am bothering them with my nonsense.....I don't want to impose.....Don't want to seem foolish.....Don't want them to think that I just want attention....
I felt if I could just be good enough...maybe...just maybe he might see me...and perhaps, just a tiny portion of what I gave might be returned.
Is it so wrong to not only want, but EXPECT someone to be there for me? Was I/am I asking too much.....or just asking the wrong person....? After all....I've always heard that you can't give what you don't have.
Sharing myself, my thoughts and feelings, took a giant leap of faith, along with a silent plea inside myself to God: Please....please....I don't want to regret this.....I don't want to take this giant step and begin to share, only for it to be taken away, dismissed, ignored...or to find that one day....the shoulder that I have come to rely on...the compassion just isn't there. Please....I don't want to regret this. Don't make me feel invisible....don't take me for granted....don't toss me aside or away.....
You know....this post was actually going to be about something else....I had no idea it would take this turn. I am tempted to delete the whole thing as it makes me feel like I have shed a layer of skin and placed myself bare,but, Dr Mac says, getting these thoughts and feelings out....even if it is via a blog, is a good thing.
Maybe I just want to know that I am not invisible.
Later Ya'll...^Belle^
