Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Holding my hand

Another blog post that I stumbled on made me think for a minute. Just a minute. The fears and insecurities that I had and the doubts were all there. In my mind. The questions and the whys, the phone calls and the memories. 

That piece of paper that now sits in a box, under my bed. The reason that my last name starts with a L instead of a B. The reason why I flinch every time someone comes after me. The reason why I am a stronger person today. 

The blog post listed reasons what marriage is all about. Promises, optimism, selectiveness and security. The point that you're significant other will hold your hand until the day you die. 

Five years on the fourteen of January. And three of those years we haven't been under the same roof. 

I respect him as the father of my son. We still talk and he still brings up the fact that "I'm his wife". Like that word is going to change anything. That I'm moving on with someone else other than him, and I still hold his name. That there is some hope for the both of us being together, despite everything. 

Religion, commitment, and the thought of the word marriage didn't stop him. 

He didn't hold my hand when he slammed my head into a concrete wall. 

He didn't hold my hand when he punched me in the face... when I tried taking our son from his house. His house with no hot water, no food and no electricity. 

He still doesn't hold my hand... when my son asks why I cry. When I sit there, looking at those pictures and remembering why. Why I went through with those vows, those lies. 

That piece of paper means nothing when promises are broken. 


Maxabella said...

I am gutted reading your post, Katie. Oh my. This is the ugly side of life and I am saddened that you and your son have known it.

As my post sparked this for you, I feel I must add that whether married or not, we can of course never know what the future holds. I can't apologise for things being hopeful for me, but it is all just assuming until it is real. Sometimes real isn't what we were after, sometimes real sux hugely.

Thank you for sharing with such courage. x

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