How many times do I need to be called a f**king selfish b*tch before it doesn’t matter? To be honest the first several times hurt like hell…then the next many times, you become numb to the cruel words. Name calling is done when an individual doesn’t have the tools to provide a better argument. Does that make it hurt less? No. Does that make it mean so little? No. Abuse is abuse in any form. How many times does it take before it hurts again. Hurt, numbness, hurt…that’s the pattern. I can let it go and numb myself to the words, knowing it is his own insecurity that allows him to be mean, but once an awhile it cuts to my core. When things have been good, it hurts more…it matters more. So how many times do I have to hear it before I don’t care anymore? I wish I knew…time will tell!
Leave it at the door…
This is something my dance teacher always told us…then later my boss…leave it at the door. Pretty straight forward to me. Whatever it was that happened in our day, we were to leave it at the door when we entered the dance studio. If we had a tough day emotionally, it was to be eliminated from our thoughts, our mood, our behavior, and our performance for the few hours we had to dance. It was to be left at the door…not to affect our well being while we danced. Then if we decided to pick it back up on our way out then that was our choice. We could take it back with us or leave the emotional baggage of the day at the door at the studio. Most chose to leave it behind. Smartly so…
This is the current state of my marriage.
After nine hours of surgery, six blood transfusions and alot of hope lost, hope gained…they took the uterus out. I am told it was the only way ti save me…And I get that. Trading my uterus for my life is not a difficult decision in the least. But it does not change the fact that it is an adjustments, it is a transition mentally from having childbearing come easy to not even being an option on the table. What was I to do now in order to have children? Take a long hard road to surrogacy, adoption, etc? Evem though they left my eggs, doesn’t mean I can get them out to do anyhing with in my life. Yes I have 5 kids…but only one of those is with my new husband. We wanted more biologically together. I have been told I was greedy for wanting more and being upset that the uterus was gone. But why can’t I mourn over the loss of my childbearing abilities? Why can’t I feel upset when the most womanly part of me is gone? I can…thats why. Women who have had a hysterectomy are allowed to feel sonething about losing that part of their life, no matter how old they are, no matter how many children they have, they are allowed. It’s even necessary to come to terms with the new you. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
I fell in love, did not know at the time, that he was a hater of all women. This man loves me, this man does not trust me. This man thinks my mind is terrific but believes I am manipulating at every turn. This man can appreciate my female body but thinks I am out to get him. I have married a women hater. He has spent his life being used, lied to, manipulated and abused by all women in his life. Walked all over, unappreciated and under recognized in all aspects, by the women who mean most to him…his sister, his mother, his grandmother. Now as the wife of this man, I am paying for the debt of many others. I could not be more trustworthy, more honest, more truthful in my intentions, my thoughts or my actions but it all falls short in comparison to what he believes, what he needs, what he has created with his hate for women. He loves me but overall he is a women hater…
Ignorance is bless but knowledge is power. Unfortunately I am not ignorant, yet very knowledgeable. How do I achieve bliss, how do I release some power. With power comes responsibility, with ignorance comes regret. As much as I would love to be ignorant, my past has given me too much power, too much knowledge. Trust comes from where, the ignorance of what could, would, or did happen. Or does trust come from the knowledge that you can trust honestly even with the knowledge of the past. I choose knowledge over ignorance. Trust through knowledge not through ignorance.
Source: Breezy as Monica
Some people think the generational difference in my marriage may be a challenge. While other’s might think that race may be a factor in my marriage. Or some may believe our economic family backgrounds could be an obstacle in my marriage. But none of these issues are hard for me, or even a thought for me or my husband. I have fun when he tells me I have stuff in common with his mother, since I am older than him, I laugh, I don’t take offense. I don’t even think of being in an interracial marriage, I truly don’t see the color, never have and never will. Having my husband come from a background where poverty, abuse and life struggles are commonplace versus my middle class upbringing, offers us a different point of view of each and of live in general. But when I am married to a man who is broken, who is deep down insecure, who doesn’t know how to overcome life obstacles because of his insufficient emotional development.
I have stayed through cheating, lying, drinking, and verbal abuse, not because I am weak but because I am strong. I am stronger than he is, I have a healthy emotional foundation that does not shake easily. My biggest fault may be that I am unconditionally loyal. My strength within is something I have had to pull on in order to be there for a man that is not strong, he is broken.
For those who love a broken person, you will understand. From the outside, we look weak, we look like we are being walked over or taken advantage of but on the inside, I know this man holds onto me for salvation. He has messed up, he has hurt me, he has lost my trust. I still continue to be his light, his strength, his saving grace. This is loving a broken man.
Source: Picking up the pieces