When I split into pieces.

trigger warning


 

I’m not sure of the exact moment Hannah began to walk out of the light but I’m pretty sure it started when she sat down with her boss on a hot and stuffy September morning and had to explain to him (for the first time ever) that her life was not as perfect as she made it out to be and she needed to leave early to take care of some things.

She had only been at work for an hour before realizing she couldn’t fake it another day. She was terrified of what she would come home to but it had to be done. So she pulled her boss aside and asked if they could talk. Luckily it wasn’t busy which was a miracle, a sign in itself.

The universe was saying that it was time to face the music.

The truth was breaking its way through whether Hannah was ready or not.

I think she felt outside of her body when the office door shut and she knew she had to open up. Hearing herself say the words “my husband is using heroin, I have to go home and make sure he is okay…” felt unreal.

This had to be a nightmare, Hannah thought. She had spent so much time pretending her life was perfect, that her marriage was everything she ever dreamed it would be.

No one saw it coming, the disaster in it’s wake.

Another miracle, a sign in itself, was her boss being so gentle and kind about what he heard. He had no problem letting her go home for the day. He even reminded her several times to call if she needed any help.

I am sure that this was the universe pushing it’s way through again, making sure the motions would keep rolling. It was time.

As I think back and talk about this, I remember more clearly. It’s been so foggy for years because I’ve not wanted to touch on this subject. I’ve avoided it and pushed it aside to deal with at another time. And now years have gone by and we’ve still not dealt with the issues at hand.

But it’s time.

I can now say with certainty that Hannah walked out of the light when she watched the garage door open and she saw her husband sitting in the same place he sat before she left for work earlier that morning. She was terrified. He was passed out. She thought he might be dead.

And that’s where I remember waking up.

I remember a voice inside my head saying “I can’t do this. I can’t face him. I’m so scared. I’m so scared.” So I said, “Fine then. I’ll do it.”

That’s the moment I was brought into the light and Hannah stepped back because she wasn’t strong enough. Or rather, I think she was strong enough but she had just simply had enough. She needed to walk away. She wasn’t ready to face the truth because she had already endured so much abuse.

So many abusive relationships. This one was the final straw. It had officially done her in. She wouldn’t have had the strength to do what I did.

 

I had come through once before briefly. I remember laying in bed at our parents house and having this sudden burst of motivation to turn my life upside down and start over completely. We had taken a week away to think about what the plan was going to be. Was I going to stay with him or leave? Could I do it? Leave?

Absolutely yes I could. I told myself over and over again for hours. I sat in bed and planned it all out. I could pay my own bills. I could take care of me and my son. I would get us a small apartment and I would get divorced and I would be okay. I didn’t need a man to get me through life. And I especially did not need one that hurt me as much as this one had. I could and I would do it myself, for my kid. That was my decision.

My plan was manifested into the universe.

But I don’t really remember what happened after that. I left again and Hannah wasn’t on the same page. She was too scared to be. Months went by before we had my chance to get out for good.

And within those months, there was so much gaslighting, stealing, screaming. Hannah was not happy. She was terrified to come home every day because she had no idea what was going to happen next. Every day, walking on egg shells. Wondering if her husband was on drugs or if it was all her imagination like he kept telling her it was.

 

Imagine having a conversation with someone and all of a sudden their eyes close and they seem to be asleep. Imagine having no idea the affects that drugs (heroin specifically) can have on a person. Imagine being like “hey…wake up, are you okay? why did you just fall asleep? you are standing up. you were just talking. why are you mumbling? why are you falling over? what’s going on? are you tired? are you sick?…..”

The questions were always smacked away with a quickness. Hannah’s husband would tell her she was imagining things. That he was just tired from working so much.

Imagine this shit happening for days on end. Months. Over a year. Imagine finding a needle in your sock drawer….and asking “what the hell is this?!” and you’re told…”it’s a friends, it’s not mine.” And then comes this long elaborate conversation about how a friend is dealing with some hard times and the needle belongs to them because it was taken away in order to help them quit……..

So many excuses and none of them made sense.

But Hannah wanted to believe in her husband. She wanted to believe he wasn’t the type to ruin his life…their life.

Hannah let these stories and excuses go on forever. She ignored her gut feeling that was telling her he was the one with the problem. She ignored it because she was so sure she knew this man that she married. The man she knew since they were kids. She was so sure their marriage, their life, their family was enough to keep him steady. She wanted to be enough for him.

But she never was.

When I came into the light, I saw everything exactly for what it was. I wasn’t blinded by love. I was shocked at how badly everything had become.

I was scared for our life and I had to do something.

So when Hannah stepped back and let me take charge, I did what I needed to do to save us and our child, to keep us safe, to make sure he would never show his face again.

The confrontation was wicked. Hannah had been so terrified the moment that garage door opened and she saw what looked like a lifeless body sitting in the garage, in the exact same spot it had been since 7 am that morning.

But now, it was noon and it was time for me, Alice, to rise.

I knew enough was enough. Our body and mind had endured too much.

It wasn’t just the abuse that killed the marriage. It was that fucking drug.

The Black Widow as I call it.

 

**to be continued at a later time….*

 

 

Please do not pass judgement on how I handled my life.

 

 

 

 

2 thoughts on “When I split into pieces.”

  1. This is beautiful, sorrowful, haunting. I am glad that you and Hannah were able to get out of that situation. That must have been so terrible to live through.

    Liked by 1 person

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