Stop apologizing for the end of my abusive relationship, please.
Look, I know you mean well. You are concerned about all that I lost. You saw a loving couple, admired us, even, and you think I’m losing something beautiful, and you’re sorry.
Don’t be sorry. Be proud of me.
Our relationship looked loving because it was abusive. If I said anything negative in public, I would punished with days of sullen, unpleasant treatment. A barrage of shame and blame and gaslighting. The silent treatment. The drinking. The unpleasant glares, the clenched fists in my face, the holes in the wall, the broken glass.
You say you’re sorry I had to go through this. Please don’t be. Admire my strength.
As it got worse, I learned how to be strong. I learned how to get along. When my home was filled with tension and gloom, I learned to fill it with love and calm and patience. I learned to stay creative and positive among the worst circumstances.
You’re sorry that my child chose to go with his dad. Please don’t be sorry. Be proud of him.
I taught my son well. He is nearly an adult, and is completely capable of making his own decisions. He is ready to make a fresh start, to be a young millennial bachelor in a millennium full of potential. I trust him to take care of himself, to keep himself safe, and to know when to return and visit my nest. Most importantly, he will never again have to watch his mother get beat down, emotionally or physically.
You seem concerned about my uncertain future. You wonder how I will get by, all alone now. You saw a simple housewife who kept trying to start new projects and failed to come through.
Please don’t worry. Celebrate with me, as I welcome the freedom to be myself.
I never gave up on any projects or dreams, I just hid them before they could be sabotaged by jealousy and contempt. If I tried to set up a online business or a booth at a local market, I would get support in the form of empty promises, leaving me screwed at the essential moment. Every moment I spent on my dreams, my education, and my career, was clouded with constant shame. Why aren’t you folding the laundry? Why aren’t you cleaning my mess? All you do is sit on your ass all day.
Now I can follow my dreams and finish my projects. I can build my small business into a profitable and successful venture. I can write. I can paint. I can create. I can be an advice vlogess. I can run for mayor of my city.
Don’t be sorry. Be curious. Watch me blossom like a rare flower.