wounded warrior...

"Deep wounds are like land mines. You forget about them till someone steps on one and- BOOM!"~ me

Four years ago my marriage of 20 years formally ended in the courthouse without even a whimper. The marriage ended long before the final decree, at least in my mind.

I had carried the emotional load along with most of the responsibility of my marriage. His treatment of his vehicle was indicative of his care for his wife; both of us were there solely to serve him.

He gave his car gas, and occasionally changed the oil ( when the service light could no longer be ignored.) He never washed the car or gave it any attention until something went wrong. Only then, when it failed to do what it was supposed to, did he impatiently, (and grudgingly), give it some much needed love and care.

Like the car, I was a service vehicle. I kept the house running smoothly, the kids raised and behaved, meals on the table, bills paid, and smiled and supported my spouse as he climbed higher and higher up the corporate ladder. But, I was neglected, used up and never got more than the minimal attention for my needs.

The years of being virtually ignored took their toll on my self-esteem. Somehow I was convinced that providing material comfort was all that he was required to give me. I was "selfish" for wanting more than he could give. After all he was working 70 hours a week to provide us with a good life.

In the end, the price of security was too high a cost. I could no longer pretend that we had a perfect life. I was starving and it showed in my eyes. One day, the car just refused to go. He cursed and kicked the tires and yelled and pounded on the dashboard, but the car would not budge. I think the old girl died from neglect and a broken heart. She had been treated lovingly years ago, by her previous owner- me.

One day I like the car, just quit. I could no longer make myself care enough to get up and go forward with this sham of a life.
My heart died from an acute lack of loving attention and respect.

I moved forward and later found someone who has healed many of those wounds, but they are deep and the scar tissue is fragile in some places. The one who inflicted those wounds can rip that tissue and cause the pain to ooze out again, with just one mean spirited comment.

Perhaps one day, those wounds will heal and the scars will fade to a merest trace. I hope so.