Why I Left

A letter to you:

I want you to know where my heart is in all of this craziness, but somehow I doubt that you will ever understand me. My life has been devoted to you but now I must try to revive my beaten soul and find life again. Lately you have been making comments to me, trying to guess what recent shallow event caused us to break down. Something like money or a certain careless word spoken. But it was a downward spiral from the beginning, with choices being made and directions being taken. So here are some of the memories that are driving my decision, on top of all that has occurred recently.

In the beginning I was mad at you. I gave you seven years of my life and you turned and stabbed me in the back. But I have moved past that. I have seen that there are nice people in the world. It is not over. You will not be around to destroy my friendships anymore. Now the anger has subsided (except for the occasional moment when I catch you still trying to destroy my life) and in its place there is sadness and regret, but also hope and letting go.

This evening I worked and enjoyed myself. The heavy heat of the day was still lingering in the garage but I just turned up the music and sang and painted a picnic table I had made for the kids. You wouldn’t have allowed me to make something like that, but I love creating. I am sad that you never really knew me. You never listened to me and when I shared my dreams with you, but would give me a list of reasons why they wouldn’t work. All I ever wanted was for you to be my friend, someone to guard my heart. I told you I was just a simple country girl. I would have loved you and kept our family together if you had just been kind. But you chose to love yourself instead.

When we were in Hawaii and talking about getting married, you gave me two options: either marry you or you would live down the street and be over at my house everyday. When it came to making decisions, you always had the only voice. I had wanted a small barefoot wedding on the beach with just close friends and family. But you insisted it be in your hometown and large and traditional. I paid for most it out of the money I got from selling my shop, even though I wanted to save it for a down payment on a house. When I was pregnant, you didn’t lift a finger to help me out more. The day before I delivered Alana, we were in the church nursery and you sat talking to another dad and I managed all of the toddlers alone. I guess it’s good that God made me so strong. He knew I would need a certain amount of spunk and tenacity to survive life with you.

I always wanted to go exploring with you…but instead I explored Montana with the kids. You missed a lot of beautiful hikes, some beautiful vistas, and more sweet memories with the kids than you would care to know. You worked so hard to look like Mr. Dad in front of your friends, but the two people who should have really seen that, rarely did. Remember how I used to have to beg you to just please get down and wrestle Caden, or dance with Alana? Or play legos or build blocks, or anything besides sitting on the couch? You talked to them in such weird voices and wouldn’t listen to Caden when he talked but would just interrupt him or talk about something else. The habits that you exemplified for him are now behaviors that cause him trouble. But he is doing better since you’ve been gone. And that alone makes it worth it.

You hated my family, and didn’t care to know my past. The two times that we took an hour to drive out to the little town where I grew up in Oregon, you were mad at me and wouldn’t talk to me so I never got to share my stories with you. I spent months in your hometown, listening to every tale and exploring all your old haunts. Do you know how much l love America, how much I love nature, and love God? I always got so irritated with you when you mocked and ridiculed our president. You bought everything SNL told you. Do you know that I hate Wheel of Fortune and The Price Is Right because of you? Those shows ruled over anything else that was going on in our house. I used to enjoy cooking and at the beginning of our marriage I would spend hours laboring over a beautiful meal. But you never even cared. You would wolf down your dinner as if in a race, keeping your eyes on your plate, only pausing to yell at the kids for not eating. Now I have no more energy to cook. Until I find someone that will share a meal with me and at least look me in the eyes. You never let me kiss you. If I tried, you would pull away. You never danced with me.

You broke my heart. You went to an old girlfriend’s house for the night because you wanted to know what could have been. You didn’t tell me for a week but just ignored me at your parents house (which was nothing new), and then when we missed our flight home because you insisted on stopping at Carl’s Jr., you took the only seat on the next flight and left me in San Francisco. Caden was only 2 and Alana was only 2 months. I had no luggage and had to ride home with your dad and wait two more days until I could fly home. I flew home carrying both of them, plus both of their car seats and a diaper bag. When I got home you weren’t there with open arms, instead you greeted me with a dark look and I found myself an hour later writhing on the floor in agony over being betrayed. When I would be up rocking our son to sleep endless nights, you would be downstairs looking at other woman on the computer. You violated me. I gave you your freedom; I was not taught to control people to get what I wanted. But I had to beg and plead for a moments’ reprieve to do something as simple as get coffee with a friend.

We took so many amazing trips together. They could have been great but they are filled with bad memories because you were always mad. Remember the time we drove 12 hours up to Edmonton to go to the waterpark? You got angry at me about something and walked away and I spent the day going down the waterslides alone. Remember Kauai? You spent the first day in the clinic trying to get painkilling medicine for your back. If you want your back to stop hurting, then exercise, eat less, and lift with your legs like I always told you. Or the time we went to Colorado for your family reunion…you wouldn’t associate with me and told me I was basically there to be a nanny. You flirted with your cousin and I almost left. How about Africa? You sat by yourself watching movies for those three 10 hour flights, and I had both the kids to manage alone. When you wouldn’t help me pack for our four month trip, that should have been a sign. You became so much more violent there that I knew I would not be safe alone with you for another two years. If you had been kind, I would have stayed. Then there was our once-in-a-lifetime trip to Europe. I spent months planning it, picking out places that you wanted to go, rather than where I wanted to go. I researched where your family had come from in Ireland so that I could take you there. But you were you on that trip, what did I expect? You complained about the food, the heat, the expenses in Rome. In Ireland we spent most of our time in the car and you fought with me to the point of exhaustion and then stopped talking to me. You didn’t even care about where your family was from. You wouldn’t dance with me. I don’t know why I took you there. And remember our flight home from IAD-DEN? You had to sit behind me a row because the flight was full and you hit me on the head and spoke hateful things at me through the crack of the seat all the way, imaging in your mind that I was flirting with the man next to me. I was sleeping. That was so humiliating and oppressive. Do yourself a favor and marry a Mormon or Islamic girl next time. Someone who wants to be your little slave and stay hidden. I was always a free-spirit and you hated it and so set out to crush my spirit. You succeeded. But I got out. I escaped your little plot. Did you really think I would keep your dark secrets forever?

All last summer you told me you didn’t love me. You went to parties and I hoped you would hook up with someone else. That may sound awful but I was desperate. You told me you didn’t like me. You told me you wanted a divorce two weeks after we were married. And then you continued to decree divorce in nearly every fight. There were dozens of nights that I went to bed thinking we were done and I was now alone only to be awakened by you crying and saying you were sorry. You were able to me convince me that you really would change many times; but then I always was a trusting person.

I wish you would have at least tried to be a family with me. But to you, as long as you could say you were part of a family, it was good enough for you. You never helped out around the house. I could count on my hand how many times you did dishes. You demanded I fold your clothes in particular ways and match all your socks. haha. I’m not folding your shirts for you anymore. Do you know how many people asked me over the years why in the world I was married to you? Almost every man that knew you well.

Now don’t get me wrong. I have good memories in my head as well. Like watching the crazy Montana fireworks from our rooftop. And the couple of times you took me fishing with you. And playing croquet in our backyard last summer. And looking with amazement at how beautiful our children were. And now I’m crying. So you should know that this decision was not easy for me. It has torn me apart. I am devastated because the dream I believed in and the life I worked so hard to build has ended. I really really really wanted to grow old with you. To have our children come home to good old mom and dad. To spend those fun years traveling with you after the kids left. Right now I cannot see the keyboard and I have to once again remind my heart that that dream never would have happened. David Gray is wailing away to me and I know that somehow I have to let go. I believe that you may have loved me some, somewhere along the way. But there is so much conflicting evidence that I don’t know if I will ever believe it was really me you loved, or just the idea of me.

I am happier already. Yesterday I was driving around town and my radiator was overheating because there is a leak and I have no money to fix it but I was just laughing. The stress is gone. I am smiling and dreaming again. I am rebuilding my faith in humanity that you set out to destroy. I am even beginning to hope once again. All of the things you told me I could never do; well now I can. But most of all I will smile and laugh.