Arrival at Today, By Way of a Long Road.

A phone call came that sent shivers down my spine. It was voice from the past that even today, stirs raw emotion and memories of just how long one must run, not walk, down the road less traveled - especially if that road had a detour at abuse.

I didn't say a word, there was only a few slurred words, obviously induced from this person's favorite drink, going on about "us" and "all that happened" and then a final begging for my absolute forgiveness.  All I could say was "No." And I hung up the phone. This person had been gone for some time, so long in fact, I thought I would have forgotten what their voice sounded like. But the voices of your past remain whispers in the present, even silently so, serving as a reminder that though gone, they are never completely forgotten.

I sat there thinking about how long of a road one must go to overcome the scars that abuse, of any kind, can leave behind.  I have no shame in saying that what I endured was mostly mental/emotional/verbal until it escalated to physical. Being pushed around, thrown and wrestled to the point where you succumb and lay like a rag doll in defeat, if only to end the rage, end your fear and let the pain pass.

Some people are truly not worth the salt in our tears. These are the people that bring out the worst in us, make us into people that we don't even recognize and place on on a merry-go-'round from hell. I was one of the lucky ones who mustered up the strength, the nerve, and the moxy to tell this person that I was done and wanted out. Sure, I was fearful of the retribution and fallout, but I knew if I didn't walk away, I would be stuck in an endless cycle of unhappiness.

So that was it. In a weekend's time, I packed up everything that was mine and left. He wasn't home to object, to guilt, to anything. He was off, having his fun and I was quietly making arrangements for the rest of my life.

Happiness started the moment I walked out of that house for the last time and I have never looked back. Forgetting though, is something I will probably never be able to do. I still get panic stricken when people raise their voices around me, I cannot stand feeling trapped, if someone raises a hand around me I still flinch and partially cower like some beat animal and certain smells evoke a reaction of stomach turning.

Damaged goods? Perhaps so. But I like to think of the label as "Handle With Care." "Fragile Contents Inside." The boyfriend I have now is very understanding and perhaps a bit of a saint to engage in this delicate dance with me. He understands and doesn't get how a man could have been so mean to someone so small and friendly with an innocent outlook on life and the world (descriptors from others).

So ladies (and gents) - if you are in a relationship where you aren't being treated kindly, I can say to you it will be scary to go at first, but once you're gone, then you can start to fix what got broken in the process of. It's a long road, but the first step starts when you say "enough."