I’m a strong woman.
I’m smart and resourceful. I’m fun to be around.
at least that’s how I’ve pictured myself.
But I look back over the months, the years, and look at the woman I’ve allowed myself to become…and my shoulders sag.
the heaviness hits my chest and I feel so utterly sad.
You see, belonging to someone became very important to me. I needed his attention, his approval. He would spend long hours at the office each week, work well into the weekends on his important projects, consistently arrive late to activities I’d planned, but then suggest a quiet brunch just the two of us…and I’d feel happy. So happy. He wanted me.
I learned to be content with his leftover time. I interpreted that as love. Everything’s okay; he still loves me.
and my world got smaller and smaller.
My friendships dispersed, my social activities expired. My focus became my own job in an attempt to support my husband’s struggling new business, trying to keep food on the table and the endless bills paid. And I could feel the happiness in me fading.
His work took precedence. His plans all consuming. His dreams the only dreams. And I adjusted. I made myself fit.
and I stopped dreaming.
I couldn’t see the despair, although I felt it. every day.
Until I stepped away from him. Packed up my suitcase and moved out.
Who am I anymore?
It’s been two months since I left him. And I’m starting to feel a lightness, a hope. Fragments of dreams flit through my mind and I smile at their possibilities.