Monday, October 8, 2012

Worth It? (27)

“Why, Why, Why did he do this to me?” I kept asking myself over and over again. What was his motive? Was it to hurt me? Did he hate me? Or was I just a convenient victim groomed for the sole purpose of the pleasure of others. These questions haunted me every waking moment those last few months of 2011. I could not have foreseen the nightmare I was living in could ever get worse.

Day after day the hungry maw of despair, depression and betrayal threatened to consume the very life out of me. Like a giant constrictor snake wrapped around its prey, squeezing, squeezing until there is no more breath within and the victim suffocates the life force extinguished forever.

The antidepressants stopped working. I found myself once again looking for escape and relief from the daily fight between the me’s--the me that wanted to accept and move on; the me that wanted to grieve the lost innocence of the boy that was now speaking such unspeakable horrors; the me that just wanted to quit. Moment by moment each waking hour, day by day, week after week, month after month. The pressure building like a garden hose that had been kinked in the middle. I was teetering on the edge, just waiting for one more stone to push me into the abyss.  

I journaled constantly in an effort to relieve the tension building inside me. I needed a break, a moment of relief from . . . I longed for those days before. . . Oh the blessed amnesia bliss!

“Remember those days before I found out what happened to me?” I would ask my wife longingly.

“Yes, I remember.”

“Those were good times weren't they?”

“No they were not!” was her answer. “I was about to leave your sorry ass and take the kids with me.”

“Oh, that’s right,” I hung my head and began to walk away.

“Besides, I like you much better now,” She added with a twinkle in her eye.

I ran back and gave her a big wet kiss. “You always know the right thing to say to keep me motivated,”  I told her.

Self doubt took over. I then asked. “Its worth it?” I needed confirmation that the hell I was in led to a better place.

“What do you think?” she impatiently snapped.

I walked away without an answer. It was a question that needed an answer.

I began to write in my journal, “Is it worth it?” I stared at those words and sipped my afternoon coffee.

“Is it worth It?” My mind swirled with activity yet never settling on a definitive yes or no answer. I shut my book leaving the page blank.

“I fucking hope so,” I muttered under my breath as I walked back inside the house.

A week went by, “Is it worth it?”

“No, I give up,” I answered. Somehow, the next day arrived on time as usual. I woke up and started all over again.

“Is it worth it?”

“Fuck if I know! This sucks! I hate him and I hate me for being weak enough to be abused.”

September arrived bringing conflict and confusion. vibrating, fighting and striving against what was acceptance or denial. The end of September brought a few rare days of peace and contentment. The wise mind inside me was pointing out differences in my habitual behavior causing rage vs the changes in behavior causing more positive results like love and what I could only guess as to a smile. My face hurt, the muscles were not used to making such an awful contorted expression.

The anniversary of the core issue was fast approaching the only thing I could think to commemorate the occasion was to spend time with my family. They, after all, were the reason I wanted to continue this nightmare.

I felt a pressing need to write that day. It was October 5th. After recapping the past year. I began to think about some of the changes I was starting to notice in my own life.

I asked myself, “Where am I now?”

I found that I was becoming a different, better person. Perhaps the effort and pain was worth it after all.



iamnotbubba