When I Blew Up My Life
The woman you see before you wasnʼt born to human parents, she wasnʼt created from any act of lovemaking, she wasnʼt a product of immaculate conception. The woman before you is a daughter of chaos, she was forged in fire and then emerged from those flames, fully grown yet with the uncertain steps of a newborn deer.
The same heat that shaped her bones has colored her vision, everyone she encounters she sees through eyes that burn. Like Superman seeing through solid objects with Xray vision, she can see through people; the twisted, ugly depravity hidden beneath cloaks of concern. She recognizes the selfish greed that is human nature, right there, just beneath the surface. And the sneaky, underhanded way most people justify their actions and think their own corruption isnʼt as bad as everyone else's.
She sometimes feels envy for other women, for the Modern Brides and the Redbook wives. Drinking their non-fat mocha lattes, delivering brownies for the PTA bake sales. Concerned with whatʼs for dinner, preoccupied with Botox and facial and vaginal rejuvenation, complaining about ungrateful children, pretending that their marriages arenʼt dead. Blissfully unaware they are teetering on the edge of their cookie cutter lives, blind to the danger as they balance on the precipice of a very different future. Sometimes, she feels pity for her estranged sisters. Mostly, she feels bitterness and disgust.
Three years ago, she was one of the Stepford wannabes, she kept up on things that mattered through Entertainment Tonight and Facebook. Sheʼd sit at football practice with the other Ladies Home Journal moms, never once considering she liked these women even less than she had in high school. She planned her grocery list and weekly meal plans with Pinterest. Sheʼd waste hours online, taking every Cosmo quiz, reading every Cosmo article she could find, hoping to find a way to recapture her husbandʼs attention. It never occurred to her that her husband was a bully, a mean drunk who fed his control issues by feeding her insecurities
It never occurred to her, during the countless office visits, the long drives to specialists–2–3 hours away, that her sonʼs medical issues didnʼt make him incapable of behaving appropriately. It never occurred to her that she bore the burden of running the household while her husband felt his workday ended when he clocked out and drove home. It never occurred to her to wonder why she was making these trips all on her own, scared to death with a strong willed, uncooperative child. It never occurred to her that being used as a human shield, standing between her husband and her son, was unfair to her. She spent so many years with a pleasant expression plastered over her face; she even bought into her own bullshit for a while.
She never talked herself happy, but she was satisfied with being complacent. She understood the importance of projecting the proper image, and she did it like she got paid to do so. She posted the family vacay on Instagram, she uploaded school pictures to Facebook, she posted sports highlights on YouTube. She documented well her pretty house and pretty smile and her perfect family and perfect fucking life. It never once occurred to her that the years spent walking on eggshells through her own home had pushed her right to the edge of her own self-destruction.
She grew anxious as her dissatisfaction increased. The more unhappy she was, the less willing she was to toe the line obediently. She was ‘not herself’ when she refused to cater to her husbandʼs tyrannical demands. She was ‘unfair’ when she allowed her son to experience the natural consequences of his own actions. Her days as an unwilling referee were finished. She tried to drown her discontent in whiskey, but only managed to throw up and pass out. With each passing day she grew more antsy, more ill at ease in her own company. She dreaded going to work. Worse, she dreaded going home.
She found a remedy for her restlessness. A complete cliché, perhaps her final attempt at a Young and the Restless kind of life. She began having an affair with a younger man, the adult child of her husbandʼs best friend. She knew the ensuing scandal if people were to find out would be huge. She knew the devastation that would cause her family. She knew that she was nothing more than a passing fancy to him, a challenge simply because of her last name. She knew it was a bad idea, any sort of relationship she carried on with him was destined to end badly.
Funny thing about girls like her… Smart enough to know when they're making bad choices. Too weak or too selfish or too desperate to care.
And so for months, these two impulsive lovers carried on in secret. To family and friends, they appeared to interact as they always had. But when they were alone, they didnʼt merely hook up, it was never just about fucking, even from the start it was more than that. Away from prying eyes, they wouldnʼt simply come together, they would collide, like waves crashing against a rocky shoreline, like cars meeting head-on in a deadly game of chicken. The tiny spark of attraction that had always been between them had exploded into a raging inferno, completely out of control, unconcerned with the damage left in its wake. And some fires are too big, too fast, too hot to extinguish. You gotta just set a fireline, cut your losses, and try your damndest to salvage the little pieces of your former life that you can carry out on your back.
As reckless as the affair was, she felt no pressing need to actually disrupt her life. She was a woman who enjoyed material things, she was proud of her 1800 square foot home, she liked driving her silver SUV. She liked going to dinner and the couples who were friends, she liked being needed and belonging to a family. She also didnʼt want to deal with the anger, the hurt feelings, or the explanations people would expect. Her best friend accused her of wanting her cake and eating it too, which she declared to be the most ludicrous saying ever. Who gets a piece of cake to look at? If you get cake, you better fucking eat it.
Life doesnʼt believe in complacency, and in the blink of an eye, everything changed. A medical emergency landed her in the hospital for a week, organs had begun shutting down. She woke up 3 days into her stay, after pulling through the initial danger. Her husband sat in a chair in the corner, and upon realizing she was awake, immediately began berating her; her hospital stay was inconvenient and made him look badly at the new job heʼd just begun. He was annoyed that sheʼd failed to do the laundry prior to her ambulance ride, now he had no clean clothes. Before she could even think of how to respond, he began a new tirade after snooping through her cell. Her initial panic was quickly replaced with disbelief. As she lay here on her death bed, he was going through her cell and wanted to pick a fight over conversations sheʼd had with other moms about their kids. Really??
Thatʼs when she knew she was done. She hated him, she was miserable at the thought of going home, and the thought of him touching her made her cringe with revulsion. She had a moment of sorrow that she hadnʼt died. Like a switch flipped, she was finished with being his wife. Her marriage was a joke and she wanted out.
After her hospital stay, tensions grew in her home, so she moved into the spare bedroom. Her son, sensing the tension, decided to add to the fun in the selfish, completely outrageous manner that only spoiled 14 year olds can invoke. Her husband threatened suicide if she left. He threatened to turn her child against her. He threatened to call her father to tell on her. The only bright spot in her life, the only thing she looked forward to were the days that she could sneak away, secret meetings with her new young boyfriend. Her original intention to suck it up at home while saving money to move out was quickly abandoned.
So that's when she blew up her life.
She couch surfed with friends until she got a place of her own. When she failed to respond to her husbandʼs most urgent threat of suicide to date, he responded by trying to murder her. When she served him a restraining order, he showed it to her son and convinced her boy that his mom was a liar. He broke into her home repeatedly, sometimes just stacking the mail into its designated piles, which she had failed to do simply on principle. He hacked into her iTunes Account and pushed Spyware to her phone. He read her text messages and followed her movements on GPS. He printed pictures from her camera roll which he left like surprise grenades designed to knock her off balance. He used his personal and family connections to ensure that every police report she made was discounted, he began working public opinion months before she noticed.
He began systematically poisoning the children against her, but it was subtle, never outright. He never said “You may NOT contact your mother!" Instead, the mention of her name would cause a frown, a scowl, a foul mood or silent treatment. Her son refused to come over to her new place at night after he found out that "Dad gets too lonely when I'm gone." He began attending church, with arms around the children, looking very much the sad, confused, cuckolded martyr, asking everyone to, "Please pray for her, we just want her to come home.”
It dragged on and on, court date after court date, ugly tales and malicious rumors, he stirred the pot and focused a spotlight on her. This was so much different than the image sheʼd painted for social media, what little self confidence sheʼd left that relationship with was soon pulverized into dust. The worst thing though, the cruelest part was that he kept her son away from her for 9 long months. Ask any mom whoʼs suffered the loss of a child what that does to her mental state. Try to imagine the turmoil and ways that would mess with a motherʼs mind. Then imagine trying to deal with the loss of a child who was still breathing, who lived only 10 minutes away…but who hates you and believes that doing so is his own idea.
And while all this chaos is unfolding around her, she was feeling wild, unsure of how to handle sudden freedom after living under a dictatorship for so long. It took 6 months living apart from him before she even began to recognize the emotional and mental torture she'd'suffered as the abuse it really was. She was diagnosed with complex PTSD shortly after she began seeing a therapist, at the urging of her boss who had noticed the mayhem in her life reflected in her job performance. She was unable to deal with any of it, so she decided to ignore it all. She ignored old friends and family in favor of her young boyfriend and lots of whiskey. By doing so, she validated every claim her husband had made. By doing so, she lost in the court of public opinion without ever realizing she had been put on trial.
And through all the madness and the insanity, the stalking and the court dates, the unstoppable rumor mill, the panic attacks, the tears, and the heartache, her young boyfriend was at her side. Cheering her on, helping her move forward, pushing her when she refused to take another step. Until the day came that an opportunity arose and he took it. She gave her blessing knowing it was her only shot at getting her son back, she had to take it.
And now, more than 2 years have passed since she blew up her life. She has survived the chaos created by a vindictive, abusive man. She has survived mental torture and anguish few could fathom. She has found ways to carry on, while piecing back the parts of her own shattered mind.
Sheʼs a much different woman than she was a few short years ago. Sheʼs thinner, paler, quieter. Sheʼs less trusting, she keeps to herself much more. Sheʼs 1 year sober, alcohol free, much to the disbelief of those who bought into the stories her husband had spread around. Sheʼs more guarded, but more observant. Sheʼs much more hesitant, but thinks things through a bit more. Sheʼs well aware of how tenuous her grip on sanity is. Sheʼs well aware of how easy it would be to destroy the new life sheʼs building. Sheʼs been through hell, sheʼs lived through madness, and sheʼs not giving up yet. Her fight carries on today, but her days of rolling over to appease the whims of an ungrateful man are finished. She's stronger than she ever dreamed she could be. She gave up on the cookie cutter, Stepford life she always thought she wanted.
She wasnʼt seeking chaos. But when chaos found her and ripped her limb from limb, she put herself back together. She got up swinging, sheʼs coming in hot.
Boom, motherfuckers.