Married three times, divorced three times….I know it seems I contradicted myself when I said I didn’t know when to say “enough” and move on, but it wasn’t until my third marriage that I figured it out and decided I was tired of forgiving.
During my first marriage I realized I had no fear of death. Not that I wanted to die, but I accepted the fact that I was going to die at the hands of my husband and even welcomed death at times. Never once did I fear for my infant son’s life. It was me he despised, and I have never understood why. When I realized I had no fear of death I packed our clothes and moved back home with my parents and waited. Waited for my husband to come kill me there. I did not want to be a missing person and I also knew my parents could never find peace if they did not have my body to bury. So I waited there with them. But he never came. Soon I filed and was granted my first divorce.
Time passed and somehow I found life again. Never was I made whole from the mental and physical abuse I had endured. I just learned to live, breath without the fear of punishment for unknown reasons. I accepted the fact that I was “damaged goods”. A single mom, a woman with baggage. So the first man who came along who wanted to marry me, I jumped at the chance. I found a way to love him, appreciate him for taking me and my young son in. But never did I love him the way a woman should love her husband. I tried. We had 2 beautiful boys together and he even adopted my son from the previous marriage. I knew he deserved true love, I just could not give it. I failed.
I know now that my inability to love him is what drove him mad. It caused him to hurt me in unspeakable ways. And again I allowed the unforgiving circle of forgiveness to begin. Never knowing when to say enough was enough. This divorce was prompted by fear. Not for my life but because during one of his desperate moments to keep me, he threatened the life of my sons. I needed to protect them so I left.
Leaving brought me happiness and grief. And peace.