Stronger

Imagine it’s your sole mission after a tragic accident, caused by you and your own stupidity, to stop paying child support and have your ex wife served court documents to that end, from your hospital bed. 

Imagine being such a self-centered, selfish prick that you don’t bother having a civilized discussion with her about next moves, or maybe reducing support for a time. No. You just go for the jugular, the kill shot, the blindside, knowing she has zero chance of taking care of the kids without your financial support that was mandated by the divorce decree you signed just a year prior. 

One year. That’s all I got after twelve years of marriage, of being a stay at home mom, of staying by his side through all of his lies, gaslighting and narcissistic behavior. This man went from the Captain’s seat flying commercial airplanes, to stocking shelves at the local Chevy dealership. His boss wouldn’t even let him drive the service vehicle to deliver parts. I went to work driving a school bus to make ends meet. I was there for him, a dutiful wife. He just wasn’t there for us. 

So why was I not surprised when he pulled the rug out from under us, again. I had hoped to have more time to decompress after the divorce, to find out what I wanted to do with my life, maybe go back to school and get a degree, write a book or two, veg the fuck out and breathe, start healing for fuck’s sake. 

Instead I went into survival mode and stayed there for the next fourteen years, my girls in tow, going through it with me, being traumatized with me. When I tell you we have been forged by the fires of hell, I mean it quite literally. We are strong. We are fucking survivors.

“You never know how strong you are, until being strong is your only choice.” -Bob Marley