Cords that Bind

As I stood on the side of the highway after having been left by my now EX, who drove away in MY car, I seriously considered, at last, the actual fact that I, not he, was most definitely not all there. You know what I mean? My elevator just did not seem to go to the top. Something was wrong with me to continue to settle for his abuse. It was not love and it was not sex or money. So it had to be that I was out of my tree. Sick! Insane! Something was wrong! I could not keep thinking that I was fine and he was not. Did I not know that people treated me the way I taught them? Well, it was obvious and had been obvious for a long time that the lesson I was teaching was not getting the results I thought I wanted. Or, maybe I wanted to be abused. Hmmm. Heavy and sad thoughts but they needed to be addressed. Finally.

With only fifty cents in my purse because I had not gotten paid by my new job at the community college, I called 911. According to "them" since I was situated on the periphery of the county, their jurisdiction did not include me. I realized that I was not alone in my insanity. I asserted. They arrived. Two cars. Two officers. Two colors.
They supplied money for a one way train ticket to DC and enough left over for a snack. I was grateful and was even accepting of the lecture about domestic abuse and taking care of myself. I think I needed all of that. I had never admitted to anyone the kind of lifestyle I lived.

Hours later at DC Metro Center as I ate a slice and drank a large orange juice, I mentally tried to ready myself for the verbal war I knew was awaiting me. But my biggest question was: Where will I go if he does not let me in because he took my keys in the ignition when he got angry and drove off leaving me because I asked a simple question.

Years later, I discover that he is bi-polar. And I now have a little nook of my own where I continue to learn to respect and love myself. It is not easy sometimes, like today, when the old tapes from my childhood play in my head again and again.

When I hooked up with him, he seemed familiar. It took years before I could see that he reminded me, psychologically, of my mother.

And I had thought death had cut that umbilical.


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