Changing key

Standard

I was about to get a bit worried! I haven’t written anything that could be called literary, for more than two weeks! After all, writing went very well during March… very well during April with both CampWriMo and Mini-NaNoWriMo, and also very well during May with Diana’s speculative writing prompt and all I wrote about Andrew Millbourne in “The Mechanical man”. So what happened? I refuse to even think I’ve gone back into the darkness of a Burn Out.

Okay! A bit of rest was probably what I needed. I had really earned a short vacation. But for two weeks!!! Then, just a couple of days ago, an answer to the question “Why” revealed itself. There was something else I needed to write.

A year ago my dead mother visited me. Not literally. I didn’t see a ghost or something. But I started to think more about her, and then wrote down as much as I could of my memories about her and my childhood. The psychological abuse I experienced.

That led to a conclusion, an understanding, questions were being answered and so on, and a totally new approach to her began to grow in my heart. And finally, a closing, and leaving the past behind me for good. That past…

Now it’s time for my former husband, the father of my three daughters, to be considered. If I compare mom to him (which actually isn’t doable) she was even at her worst, still the most glorious angel with just a little dirt on the lower hem on her skirt.

He, was like the devil himself; with a pair of curved horns, a two-edged tongue, burning eyes and all the other equipment.

When I met him again at the family gathering last Thursday, I noticed I felt different from how I used to. More detached, in a good way. Tougher. More self-aware. Cool.

He, as usual, tried to talk about his illnesses. He also asked me about the arthrosis. Were I in pain?

“Yes,” I said a bit cold. “I have pain in my hands, my feet, in practically every joint in my body.” I didn’t complain, though. Just served him the facts and didn’t throw him the ball back to continue that conversation.

A bit later, though, he said: “You look more brisk and healthful than the last time we met.”
Last time was Christmas.

“I am brisk and healthful” I answered and knew I wasn’t lying. In fact, I surprised myself by saying “I am” instead of “I feel”. There is way more power in “I am”… And it’s the truth! I may still have pain in my hands, especially the thumbs, but overall, I feel fine. I feel really great!!!

He must have grasped that I wasn’t interested in talking about illnesses. I am so tired of people who always talk about their illnesses. And I most certainly don’t want to talk about my illness either. The pain and stiffness in my body isn’t an illness anyhow. It is just a temporary condition due to certain things and events, due to stress.

The biggest cause of this long-lasted stress is actually my former husband! What my mom did, was nothing compared to what he did to me. Maybe, but I only say “maybe”, that her treatment made it more easy for him to get power over me. I was naive, gullible and believed everyone to be good. I couldn’t say “no”, and I never got angry. Goodness knows, I really should have said NO NO NO to him from the very first time I saw him. Especially since I was only sixteen…

He destroyed my life!
Almost. He could have – but I am still alive and not insane.

On the other hand! I wouldn’t have had my three daughters then! Probably no children at all. And since I believe everything happens for a reason, this marriage was obviously meant to be.

What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger, the saying goes.
So I guess I’m really strong now.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

That Thursday evening, after our family gathering, memories about him and our life together came into my mind.

I opened a document I had written about him several years earlier, remembered more as I sat there reading – and suddenly I was filled with an immense amount of rage and hate. Tears came in my eyes and I just hated him, hated him, hated him for everything he had done.

For how he had treated me, my children, his parents, and…
Only God knows who else!

While feeling this, suddenly my back cramped all the way from the hips up around the head. It felt weird and very unpleasant. (Has happened earlier so it didn’t frighten me.) How more obvious can it be? Can the body say it more clearly? This pain and stiffness, and the anxiety I lived with for many years as well, are caused by the psychologically and mentally abuse I lived under for all those years with him, and even after the divorce.
Oh, he did hit me a couple of times too, but that physical pain was nothing compared to…

This charming, well-behaved, knowledgeable BASTARD!
You are not worthy of being called a man!

A couple of days later, I again opened that file, copied it, and started to work with it as a draft. Reading, adding comments, and writing notes about what to write more.

So, that’s why I couldn’t keep on writing about Andrew Millbourne, Jaycee, Kaila, Bill, Theyou, The Long-Legged Man and the other.
I had some other writing to do first.
And that, I do, these days.
Getting my colours back.