The Compromising Position I Couldn’t Assume

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash

I felt like I was falling in love. Slowly, trepidatiously, an older, unsteady woman picking her way across an icy, rocky creek, believing in the safety that must surely be on the other side. The creek and my heart had been frozen as long as memory.

A traumatic childhood and a long, tumultuous marriage taught me that love was conditional and security and peace were elusive.

My ex-husband is burdened by multiple addictions. Typical of an addict, he lied to cover the behavior he knew was wrong. When I would confront him, he would express remorse. I would once again trust him, only to have that trust destroyed, again and again. I didn’t know what or whom to believe, and I trusted myself least of all. I refused to accept what my eyes saw. The flirtatious text messages and accompanying lewd photos. The empty vodka bottles hidden under the bed and in the trunk of his car. His dozing at the dinner table while I covered for him with our kids.

Like all good pack animals, one final straw broke my camel back. I ended the marriage.

I’ve spent the five years since building a new life. I got reacquainted with myself and discovered new interests. I immersed myself in personal growth in a quest to understand how I could stay in a marriage that was so wrong…