|choppy waters, rocks aplenty...|
But that was not to be even as I carried my first child. I was treated no better or differently. But still I hung on. I am Catholic and as much as I think myself a grade B- quality type of Catholic, deep down my faith mattered , my vows mattered, the sacrament mattered. It would not be right for the kids. So I held on. Was it cowardly?
Imagine having to hold your breathe on your partner's reactions/response to soup that comes out of a familiar can; because that taste too is your responsibility. 90% of the time, nothing is good enough or well done or right ..
I didn't make it worse, I took on the meek role and stayed in the silence which grew longer and longer each time, but I couldn't make it better. Maybe if I kept the peace long enough, he would see?
After the third child, he didn't change for the better, he got more arrogant and his self-esteem did not improve with respect to me, more tyrannical, using the silent treatment permanently on me as his means for punishment and his physical temper emerged more and more frequently. Sometimes I think he has a brain disease. And still I did not think of getting out. I prayed for wisdom too.
I got the courage to take out the protection order, not for myself but for the kids. When I think back I can't recall what pushed me to take those steps, did I plan did I think it through....
Hoping again that he would see (reality) what he had to do (a chance to try to hold this family together) and consequently would shake him and make him realize he needed help and advise for his behavior that was not right; that he would then attempt to salvage us all as a family unit. But that didn't happen. I once said that hope can be bad thing, this is what I meant.
And so I wondered then what was the answer, I got up the courage to take ONE step, was it up to me to take the next and last resort, to break the vows, was that the way ?
But that was not. In the end, it was he who did it. Why at this time, I can't figure?
But this seems to be that final answer to my problem and repeated prayer.
There are several thoughts that come to mind as I surmise what has passed:
I was meant to have three kids and not stop at one
There is a purpose for their being.
I was meant to take that extra journey of suffering, it made me stronger and to become a different person from the one who started out. My faith is stronger.
I have come to appreciate what normal means in most human natures - my tolerance is that much more for the range of human temperaments as nothing comes remotely close to the evil nature of my ex whom I have had to survive with all these years.
Perhaps this is where fate is meant to take me.
This is where his guiding spirit led me. God does not intervene until you give him permission and so he couldn't give me the miracle I asked for.