12 Years a Slave

12 years a slave. For 12 years I was married to a bad decision. Someone who I knew from the beginning was a piece of work. A piece of work I thought I could fix. Someone I thought I could love enough, heal enough to bring out the best in him. The best in us! Oh how I was wrong. Almost like a dog returns to their vomit, this man returned to what was always there before he was even gone. I think that’s what hurts the most. I thought I was loved differently. Thought I was seen and loved for who I really am. The whole time I was being cased like a bank. Robbers come in dressed as normal patrons, acting as if they belong, only to find the weakest points so that they can take as much as they can, as quick as they can. Except in my case it wasn’t quick. My chosen husband was probably licking his lips in anticipation on how much he could take from me without actually giving anything.

I was warned, his own Mother asked me how did he get women to do all these things for him?! I chalked that up to her being harsh and not really loving her son. She had sent him away at 12 after all. Sent him to a shit boarding school on his 12th birthday disguised as a Mommy and me trip away. Some kind of 12th birthday. I felt sorry for him. Sorry he felt that kind of isolation. Maybe there’s some significance in this 12th year. He made me think his stepfather was the cause. Sent away because his mom chose the wrong man. Chose to be loved instead of giving love. The truth is his mom realized she had a bad seed. A son who had chosen to always make the wrong choice instead of the best choice. Her Son had chosen to be something else.

We went through the birth of 2 live children and seven dead. The universe told us. Told us this particular family unit wasn’t meant to be built. The building up and crashing down of many places we called home. I think its hardest to admit when what you’ve spent your energy building ain’t worth being built. Acceptance is where I’m at. Accepting that what I hoped for is dead too.

If I can teach one woman to choose better. To not let her hurt make her choices. To save her life before she loses it. She can choose better, be better. You can’t teach a man how to be a good man. He has to make that choice for himself, within himself by himself!

Now I’m here picking up the pieces of what’s left. Playing happy when I’m sad. Sad “I told you so” came so soon. I was hell bent on proving everyone wrong. Proving I could create my happy with someone who wanted happy just as bad as me. All I proved is you can’t trust no one, no one except for yourself.

Now I’m armed with the experiences I have had to teach those who come after. Armed with a relationship with myself that I’ve never had before. I remember being lonely and hating being alone as if it was a bad thing. Now I relish in my own company. I treasure my peace and quiet and this, won’t be stolen away. This peace I have is my permanent life partner and it will not be disturbed even if it means I’ll be single for the rest of my life. Singleness is not a death sentence. It’s the opportunity to live my best life without interference. And I’m here to live it.