I can’t tell you how good it feels to sit and write. I have been riding this rollercoaster called life hard for the past month and a half and for now, the ride has stopped and I have a chance to sit still. No rocky bumps, no feeling of my heart falling to the bottom of my feet, no nausea and no loss of breath.
On my 45th Birthday, my husband gave me the gift of peace. After the year and half of couples counseling, the bargaining and the anxiety, anger and tears and passive aggressive behavior, he agreed to pack his things and leave. I chose to spend a few days at the shore with the kids. I used every last penny I had saved and booked two days at the Trump Taj Mahal, rented a car and met my best friend for life at the shore. I needed to separate myself and my children from the disease that had affected our lives for too many years. I knew as I was driving away that I had made a decision that would change my life and my children’s lives forever. Did I do the right thing? Was I being selfish? Was I ruining my children’s lives forever? Would they hate me for protecting them from a world and a future that they were oblivious to? Or did they know exactly what I was doing and were thankful? I wouldn’t have the answer to any of these questions anytime soon. I had to step out on faith and sit with the inner knowing that I was doing the right thing for myself and my children. I was feeling so may emotions at once. Sadness, pain, sorrow, peace, freedom, joy, confusion and fear. And my kids didn’t have a clue.
The joy in their eyes when they saw the gold, gaudy rooftops of the Taj Mahal and the six-foot chandeliers, the rainbow colors lighting the escalator and the bells and lights of the slot machines. It was their first time in Atlantic City and I wanted it to be a memory that would hopefully dull the pain that awaited them at home. The empty living room and the heartbreak of knowing that Daddy doesn’t live here anymore.
The most difficult thing I’ve had to do since burying my mother, was telling my kids why the furniture was missing and why Dad wouldn’t be living with us anymore. My husband chose to leave the fun part to me. Wiping away their tears and rebuilding the comfort and safety of our home. And through the financial stress, support hearings and full-time parenting, I regret nothing. I am so thankful for the love and support of my family and friends who have held me up when I felt like I couldn’t stand any longer.
I didn’t think I would ever be able to step out on faith and insist on a life of peace and joy. I take things one day at a time and I thank God for the little things. I am thankful every day that we have a roof over our heads, and food to eat. I am thankful that my children sleep peacefully at night and that I have a monopoly on peace and quiet when they do. And I am thankful that I am free to feel my feelings and sit in the peace and quiet and write.