Entry 43: Shadows

It was now a couple of months since the incident at the hotel with S., and I'd still not recovered, nor had I left him. I wasn't sure what was keeping me here: love, obligation, loyalty, fear, hope? It was all muddled together, and I no longer knew what I felt.

One of my friends had invited us to a gala, in support of an organization helping shelter abused women. There was a three course meal, an auction with elaborate prizes, a musical act, followed by speeches. Individuals headed to the microphone and began telling their own experiences with abuse. Some had witnessed the abuse of their mother and had decided to become a donor. Others had used the program themselves to escape their abusive partners. And as I sat there and listened, I realized that all of them had experienced the same thing, fear.

The word suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks, as the room began to spin. "Are you okay?" S. asked, noticing a shift in my body language. I nodded, but I was far from okay.

"If you're fearful of your partner, that is abuse," the speaker continued. And there it was, the word I'd not wanted to acknowledge but was now forced to, in a room with thousands of people.

I wasn't seeking shelter because my life was being threatened, I wasn't being beaten up, and I didn't have any bruises on my skin, but I was still fearful of my husband. I was scared to express my feelings, to talk about our relationship, and to accuse him of the things that hurt me emotionally. My mind and body could no longer distinguish between small fights and big ones, and I felt like a gaping wound that temporarily healed, only to break open again.

Somehow I'd made it through the gala just as I had my corporate event, as I smiled and laughed, pretending that S. and I were fine. But once we were home, I could feel myself unravel. "We were nothing more than frauds at that gala tonight," I said, bursting into tears.

"I know," S. said in a calm tone.

For the next half hour I poured my heart out, telling him how trapped I'd felt emotionally, scared of his reactions and anger. "I'm not your father, and you need to stop punishing me for that relationship," I said, wiping my tears. "It's time to heal that wounded little boy within yourself, otherwise you're going to lose everything that matters."

The one thing S. had been most fearful of was me leaving, but it was clear that up to now he'd had no idea how to keep me either. He listened but didn't say much, which was okay, as it was my time to finally be heard. And whatever the consequences, one thing I knew for sure, I would no longer live in the shadows of fear. It was time to find my light.

Entry 44: Island