The other day I was thinking back on some pretty awful moments, and I remember thinking to myself at the time, do I go or do I stay. It was such a hard decision. You cannot look in from the outside and assume it is so easy to just say ‘oh I would go – I can’t believe you thought about staying’.
Well don’t judge until you’ve been there.
In my case I had a number of factors, one being the safety of children. They weren’t my children, but I wanted them to be loved and cared for by a suitable adult. A mothering adult. A sober adult. And safe. I couldn’t leave not knowing if their future was tarnished.
There was the thought of being alone. I don’t want to be alone. I have been told by countless others that there are plenty of fish in the sea, but I didn’t want anyone else. I didn’t want to live by myself, with no one to care for, or to be cared for. It really is a lonely existence. Besides, I still loved that person.
That’s what gets you. Love. Because you want so much for the love that you had to last forever, for the love to not be an endless empty pit of broken feelings, harsh words, and disrespectful.
So a number of times I did say this to myself. I now want to know why did I say that, and why didn’t I leave? Why didn’t I have any courage? Well I am looking at it from a different point of view, after someone said to me it took a great amount of courage for (this particular form of) suicide.
And I felt inspired.
Because I think I had courage by asking myself at the time, should I go or should I stay – and deciding to stay. I know that I should have chosen my own self worth, but I know that within me, I would have felt far worse just leaving without questioning my doubts than staying and trying to turn it around for everyone. Because I felt I could do it. Unfortunately there came a time when I had to make that ultimate decision, and the bad times were more than anything that was ever good, and I no longer wanted to know if I had the courage to stay or leave.
Because I didn’t care. I wanted to feel safe again. But not just from him. From myself. I have stabbed myself (twice), cut my wrists, my thighs, my belly. I have hit my head against brick walls more than a few times. I have punched myself. Do you actually know how hard that is to do? I have even tried to scrape my eyeballs out just to stop the tears.
You can argue that he did this to me. But I will not blame him totally. I had other things going on in my life with the abscence of my own children, and when something went wrong there, it always coincided with what was going on with my partner.
So in the end, when I asked “Do I go or do I stay?” I found the courage to go, because I did it for me, without guilt, but with a hope that I could pull myself out of the very place I pretended I wasn’t in. Which was nowhere.
I will empower myself.