To Thine Own Self

She looked in the mirror and was grateful that the latest marks could be covered by clothes. Black eyes, bloody noses and multiple bruises had covered her body throughout the years. She went between thinking, “I’ve become toxic too! It’s not his fault,” and “I can’t do this anymore. My life is filled with sadness and torment.”

After cleaning her red eyes and tear-stained cheeks with a cool washcloth, she walked back to her bedroom, pretty sure she was safe from anymore argument, because he had stormed away for a walk to “cool off” like always.

But this time was different - at least for her. She wasn’t crying any longer. She wasn’t searching for her phone to call and beg him to calm down and come home. She didn’t feel like being with him was “home” any longer.

She didn’t care who had started it with harsh, demeaning words or who had broken something or that he had put his hands on her again.

For the first time, in a long time, she only cared about peace of mind; her own and his.

Mistakes of the past could not be undone and the picture of their happily-ever-after would never come to fruition.

The only thing she could control was herself.

With that in mind, she texted him, because she did not long to hear his voice or want to plead with him to make up with her. She wanted to set him free and in doing so, set herself free. It was the first time, in many years, she had pictured her own life without him and was at peace with the image.

She was petrified. She had no idea how she would wake up without him, even though most night with him ended in dreadful tears and unbelievable heartache. Yes, she was scared, but she was finally and truly done.

In her text she said, “I am not angry. I will not break your things. I will be in the baby’s room (which he knew was the room full of broken dreams - the room they had designed for their sweet son who was stillborn 6 years ago - the room which had never been redecorated). You are welcome to come back at your leisure, but please get your things together and leave as soon as possible. Please text if you will need longer than 9 am. I would rather not speak in person. It will make things easier. Once you have everything ready to go - and a ride to be on your way - please tell me. I will give you more time if necessary, but I will hold no discussion on making up and working things out. I have worked things out, and you are no longer part of my plans. I wish you the best.”

She did not wait for his response, her first impulse was to block him, but she had to know when he would be gone without seeing him face-to-face. Her lost baby’s room made her mourn. Realizing he had been named after the man who had repeatedly bruised her, left a scar on her heart, but she pictured a 6-year-old boy, running and laughing and playing and she desperately held his baby blanket, wishing he were in her arms.

The next image in her head, was a small child, hiding under his bed, crying, because his parents were screaming and yelling and throwing fists. She shook her head, thinking things work out in ways we don’t always understand and wish we could change, but life won’t let us change our pasts or our futures that way.

She smiled, tears rolling down her face. Tomorrow she would call Katie, her best friend. She would ask her to help revamp and remodel her life, starring with turning the “baby room” into a New Life Room. It would be used for reading, writing, meditation and all sorts of artistic creation: all things she had once enjoyed - all things she had abandoned when she made her life all about someone else’s.

Tomorrow would be a new day. She would get some sleep, but her awakening had already begun.