I love music, but lately there is one song that I’ve had on repeat. I feel Kesha’s song, “Praying” in my soul. Like I relate to this song on a spiritual level.
“You brought the flames and you put me through hell. I had to learn how to fight for myself…”
It baffles to think that a person could abandon they’re child, not check in on them, be so awful to their mother, and not understand why they’re wrong. You left me. You left this beautiful little girl. You did everything in your power to break me down and you won for a little while. I would come home, put her car seat down, and sob for hours while she cooed and smiled at me. The verbal barrages tore me apart; I was worthless and I didn’t deserve to be her mother. You made me feel like the bottom was the top and I couldn’t pick myself back up.
You broke me.
You had no right to do this to me, but you did. You pinned me down and screamed in my face, you shoved me to the ground when I was holding our daughter. You hit me in my face and shoved me to the ground in front of our 10 month old daughter; I hit her high chair on the way down. I went and got a restraining order the next day. I swore to myself that you would NEVER put your hands on me again.
Two years. No contact. No calls, no visits, no nothing. When you made an appearance back in our lives, it seemed like we might be able to exist as co parents. Never mind the intimacy that shouldn’t have happened, but it’s hard to stop loving someone. Even if they are still the monster underneath. But I learned that no matter how good you are to someone, no matter how much you care about them, they can be the worst thing for you. We were volatile together; your toxicity crept into every aspect of my life again and I felt myself slipping. Old wounds were reopened and made deeper. When you left, it was devastating, but I had no way of knowing it was freeing me.
I gave you chance after chance to make things right; I set myself on fire to keep you warm. But I can’t help you. I won’t help you. I’ll help myself. As bad as our situation was, I am so thankful. That seems crazy, but I assure you it’s not. It could have been much worse. What if you had decided to pull out your gun during one of our arguments? What if I had stayed with you and Autumn watched you tear me down daily? What if this became her idea of a healthy relationship? What if she grew up and married someone like you? What would have happened if you had turned your aggression and anger on her, and I was powerless to stop you?
Autumn is not the first child who has grown up with a single mother, and she won’t be the last. You do anything you can to protect your children, and I move mountains for that little girl daily. She’s not a product of a broken man, of her father.
People like to say that the opposite of love is hate, but I disagree. For me, the opposite is indifference. To hate you, I would still have to feel something for you. I don’t. I have nothing left to give you.
“I’ll just say this is I wish you farewell. I hope you’re somewhere, praying…”
I hope you fall to your knees. I just won’t be there to help you back up.