I never truly thought this would be me. I never thought I would have to choose between two horrible decisions, hoping that I would pick the right one.
Well, here I am. I had to make the decision. I had to choose between a Miserable Choice and Awful Choice. To be honest, it was years in the making. Years of tiny little paper cuts that just kept getting salt poured on them, that just kept reopening, or, worse, never healing at all. I had to really think about what I could tolerate for the rest of my life. I had to really dig deep to figure out what my future looked like.
I was easily able to picture the girls growing up, starting elementary, learning to ride their bikes without training wheels, riding their first horse, and playing in their first sports tournament. I can picture buying our first house, decorating the girls’ rooms to really fit their personalities, planting a little flower garden with them, maybe planting some tomatoes or something too. I can picture working in the health care field, learning and growing in my career in order to be able to put the girls through college.
As beautiful as that future sounds, there was something wrong with it. I could not picture this happy future while having to stay married to my husband and dealing with the millions of paper cuts that came with him in the form of his interactions with his parents, in the form of his children, and in the form of the way he treated me and the girls when around his parents or his boys.
I cannot have the future I want while being torn down and destroyed by the person who is supposed to love me. I cannot be the best mother to my children when I’m being treated like garbage by HIS children. I cannot raise my children to be successful adults when his parents are demonstrating that parents aren’t allowed to be parents, when they are demonstrating that the boys are always going to be more important because they’re boys, when they’re still PUTTING SOCKS AND SHOES ON A TWELVE YEAR OLD’S FEET FOR HIM.
I actually want my girls to be strong, independent, kind, capable, and amazing women. I want them to be able to accomplish anything they set their minds to, and to be able to actually take care of themselves in the process.
None of this will be possible with him still being under their thumb and under their rules. I gave him chance after chance after chance to prove to me that he could put the girls’ needs over his desire to please his parents. And he couldn’t do it. They raised him to be a broken man.
I was raised to be a strong and capable woman. I cannot be with someone who needs me to be broken with him just so his parents might possibly love him.
I am a strong, independent, and highly capable woman. I’ve been doing it on my own for five years. Might as well stop getting thousands of paper cuts.