Broken Strength

He calls today, after months of no contact.

This isn’t the first time for the delayed connection.

Seven years and three kids later, he never really saw what was in front of him.

But he calls today.

Today is no different than any other day.

I went to work after five hours of off and on sleep, between a sleeping six year old, a four year old that keeps squirming around, because he refuses to wake to use the restroom, and a toddler that requires me to be at arms length, and to physically touch me as she sleeps. Work starts at 5:30 AM, I finally catch my long period of sleep between two and four.

The babysitter brings the kids to work thirty minutes before my shift is over, they wait in the break room until I finish my report and submit the information to my nurses. I leave early to make sure I’m there to get my oldest from school.

Today is no different.

Yesterday my car overheated and my son accidentally locked us out of the house. The baby dropped all of her food in the back seat and my youngest son spilled his pop.

Today is no different.

I come home to toys here and there and mismatched shoes in the pattern of which they were thrown off by each kid. The trash needs to be thrown, the dishes are filling up and the laundry needs to be put away.

Today is no different.

I cried when he said he loved me because for so long I believed that that was true. I believed that in his plea the truth was somewhere hidden like a white little bunny blending into the snow. I have learned though, that his little white lies have been more prevalent than anything of truth.

Today was different and I didn’t even realize it. I had a voice today when I told him I would never be a victim of his manipulation and terror and lies, and of course, the heart ache.

I found my strength in all the things that he had set out to make me weakened. And I was. I was weak for so long for so many reasons. I have carried so much weight behind the pain, the screams, the names, the bruises the losses, and now, the scars.

The physical scars of his distorted love have a different sting than those that have been imprinted on my mind.

You see, I saw myself in the mirror and I pitied the girl that stood before me. I saw her ragged hair and her sunken eyes. I felt her shallow heartbeat and the pulsating from her aching overworked feet. I saw every flaw and blemish and could read all of her hurt as she stood without confidence and the glow that she once had.

No amount of soap in the world could wash off the words the she heard day after day. No matter how many hugs she received from those that loved her there wasn’t one that could put all the pieces of her shattered soul back together. Not a kiss from any lips would bring her warmth and contentment with her existence.

Today was so different.

He said that he changed and he was a better man. I couldn’t handle how coyly he was spilling the words out as if I haven’t heard broken promises from him a thousand times before.

Today was different, I congratulated him on being better and let him know that in his recovery he destroyed me. I’ll never be how I once was. I’ll never see myself as I once did. I had a storm that left things unraveled and in shambles.

My mind has been weakened as I try to pick myself up, my hands tremble at trying to put the pieces back together. My eyes shift from stranger to stranger wondering how they view the world, my steps, they are lighter and cautious of the paths I choose to take.

My heart.

My heart.

Oh my heart. It is heavy, it is achy, it is like a sore muscle that can not function properly. Like any muscle though, in order to grow, it must be ripped apart.

Today, I thanked him.