The day I told her she was just like my abuser I thought she was going to rage on me. I prepared for the worst. I couldn’t get my words together. I crouched down because I wasn’t sure if my legs could withstand the weight of my words. I anticipated the bullets of “fuck you,” and “how dare you?”
She knew how much I hated him. How much resentment I had, and had been working through to be okay with him. She never outwardly defended him, but she knew it was important that I make my peace with him. In those moments, she was supportive.
I stumbled over my words for a few minutes. I tried to remember to breathe. Finally, I just ripped off the bandaid.
“Oh. I’ve known that for years. I could never understand why you wanted to be with me when you hated him so much.”
My mouth dropped. That was not the disaster I was prepared to face. How did she know, and I didn’t? How did she KNOW and not leave or desire to change in any sort of way? How did I let this happen?
Well, I didn’t let this happen. I simply couldn’t see it. It’s one of those wild psychological phenomena. I never thought I would do it to myself. I thought I was SMARTER than that. The subconscious knows nothing of intellect. Our old karmic wounds do not know until they come to light.
When she said, “I know that you were a kid, and everything and no kid deserves to be treated like that, but everything you’ve ever told me about him-I agreed with him.”
My head was spinning. Did she even listen to any of what I went through? Does she REALLY think it’s okay to say and do those kinds of things to another human being?
Actually, yes. She must. She’s the same.
Although it took a huge amount of courage and strength for me to face this truth with her-that was not the final end to our saga. One might think that would be enough. But there was still something in me that thought if SHE could love me the way I needed to be loved, then everything would be magically transformed.
That is not how that works.
Sometimes, I’m repulsed by the fact that I was with her for 8 years. Apparently seeking the approval of the one person I had tried to escape for the larger portion of my whole life. But this is how trauma works. When I think about this one moment I still ache in all my sore spots.
If I would have known better, I would have done better.
I finally do.