*I wrote this blog a while ago, but I’m republishing it, because after the last few days it’s more pertinent than ever.*

It’s been awhile since my last post.  And the same plethora of all and nothing has happened as usual.  I’d like to report that I’ve continued being brave.  I haven’t backed down.  I haven’t made false promises that I don’t intend to keep in order to make my life easier. I’ve stood my insanely shaky ground without falling; proudly and with vehemence.

What I can’t say is that it has made my fight any easier.  In fact, not shockingly, it has made it worse.  Because the more I fight to get out, the more he fights to keep me in.  No matter that I tell him it’s not working.  No matter that I tell him that fighting with me is counter-productive; it’s actually making things worse.  No matter that I tell him this IS going to happen, the fighting continues.

We’ve been here before.  If you know me, you know this.  You also know that for the most part I’m a giant coward.  I hate confrontation, and when the work gets tough (and I mean really tough) I tend to quit…making excuses upon excuses for why I’m doing it, but quitting none the less.  It’s better if I stay.  I can’t leave him with nothing.  The kids will be better off.  Every single god-awful cliche has been used and each time I stay it’s like a little piece of me breaks off and crumbles; shatters and blows away like dust.  Just a little each time…not enough to notice to the untrained eye, but enough for me to feel less than.

And this cycle repeated for so many years.  Outwardly, I look whole but inside there is just emptiness.  And I told myself this was my penance for wrong doings.  I was paying for mistakes I made in the past.  That eventually everything would just be ok.

And then she was born.


My boys are my boys, but she is my GIRL.  Just saying her name gives me hope and pride. She’s stubborn, and fiery, and feisty.  She’s smart and no nonsense.  She’s emotional (sometimes overly so).  Yet, with all those things I know to be true, she reminds me every day that she has to be taught that her thoughts and feelings are ok and justified, unlike her brothers that are born into that privilege.

And she is why I fight, when maybe I couldn’t before.  So she never has to think she doesn’t have a choice.  So she never has to think that another person gets to make her decisions for her and tell her how to think and feel.  So she never has to think she has to stay somewhere she doesn’t want to be.  With someone she doesn’t love.

So that she knows it’s always, ALWAYS ok to walk away and try again.

That if she’s in the wrong story…it’s ok to leave.