Breaking Free

I've been thinking a lot about the past and how my past has shaped me into who I am today. One of those shaping moments was my marriage. 

Thinking about my ex-husband used to fill me with fear and I would be sick to my stomach but now, it feels like relief. Relief that I made it through and relief that I can sit here and tell this story. Even my own mother never knew how bad it truly got, I regret not telling her the complete truth. 

Part of me held back because I didn't want her to worry, and if you knew my mom - she was a worrier, and part because I couldn't stand to face the mistake I had made. 

So for this post, I want to discuss my last therapy session I had while I was still married. This was the starting point of the breaking free. 

 “You need to leave. You need to leave it all behind” My former therapist said those parting words to me. 

I was unconvinced. Leaving meant conceding, losing, letting the abuse win. He couldn’t have my city. I wouldn’t let him. I’d already given him so much. 

But was this the fight I wanted? What was left for me once everything was boxed and taped shut? What if I picked a different fight? 

What if this time I chose myself going forward? 

“I’m afraid if I stay,” I said, “that I’ll see him everywhere. We know the same people. Everyone knows us as a couple. I’m going to go out to eat, and people are going to ask me how he’s doing. What am I supposed to say? They’re going to ask me what happened.” I paused, trying to breathe deeper. “I don’t know what do to.” 

In that brief moment with thoughts swirling, rage building, and my therapist listening, my mind jumped to the bit of truth I could cling to: He didn’t kill me. 

Even though filing for divorce felt like sure death, it wasn’t. And that was something. 

 If I stayed, I would tip-toe around our mishaps, around the devastation and the lies. I would treat his name tenderly, habitually understating a version of our lives: “Oh, we just weren’t compatible. But we’re still friends.” 

Friends. That word did it for me. How can you be friends with someone who beat you? 

“I’ll go.” 

And I did. 

A few days later, I packed my car with everything I owned, and drove. I was heading to Columbus to start over. 

I gifted my now ex-husband a city I grew to love and the tradeoff was my soul. It tasted like both success and failure, bitter, salty, sweet, and decadent. I was deciding to choose me. 

The drive was full of contradictions. Feelings screamed at me as I drove: YOU’RE SO SCREWED, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? and YOU DID IT. Because that’s exactly what change is: the complete and utter destruction of our lives (the messing it up, as it were) while we begin to create in the marvelous unknown. I was standing near the cliff of tears and laughter—I don’t think I’d ever been that close. 

I’m allowed to change, grow, learn, redo, undo, and choose again, and again, and again. 

Why? Because. Simply, because. That is reason enough. 

And as I drove, I vowed the following: 

I will never date again….

Until I am ready. Until I know my heart can survive being vulnerable. 

I hate cooking….

With someone who criticizes my ever move and choice in the kitchen. Cooking is therapy, so if I want to dance it out while chopping onions and singing loudly - deal with it. 

I don’t like dancing….

With people who cannot see me. Dancing where I can be fully in my body, present with other humans, is a mighty spiritual experience and I will do it anywhere. 

And now for something completely different....

 Hi again. 

It's been a minute and a lot has changed since I used to ramble about books. 

For those of you who weren't aware, I lost mom in 2023. And if you know me at all, you know how close we were. Losing her was like taking a bullet to the heart and it has completely changed me. These past few years I've been doing the minimum to get by in life. 

Depression is a weird thing, it comes and goes in waves. When the wave hits you feel like you are drowning. But you look around and see everyone breathing, talking, and living their lives. So how can you be drowning? Wouldn't someone come to the rescue? 

You start therapy in the hopes of working through the grief. Opening up to a complete stranger is easier than talking to those who know you. You can say anything and it's OK. So I let open the floodgates. You talk about the waves crashing and drowning. You talk about how jealous you are because everyone seems to have moved on but you're still in the same space. 

Sitting in that space you learn a lot. You learn how to fake smile, laugh, and act normal. You're good at it, mastered it even at times at least until the next wave approaches. 

Eventually the waves slow down. You bop up and down with them instead of letting them drown you. Some would call this progress, at least my therapist does. 

This is where I currently am, bopping along with the waves and taking the small hits as they come along. 

Sorry to have started the first post off with such a depressive topic but it's important you know the starting point for me. Going forward this is going to be about life updates, writings I've done, and thoughts I have. 

I'm slowly starting to reenter the world. Posting on social media was the starting point and now I have this blog.

Hope you visit and hang out with me. 

Kelli