My return flight to Los Angeles was smooth. My arrival at the terminal was not. You know that moment when you realize you have reached the point of no return and everything is spiraling out of control and you literally surrender your mind, body and spirit and just say “Come at me universe. I have no fight left. Take what you need from me so I can move on.” This was that moment.
I got off the plane with some strange feeling. I cannot say it was happiness or sadness, but more like strange uncertainty. How would my welcome home moment play out with him? I certainly was not expecting a loving hug or kiss. We weren’t there yet. Our conversations up until that day were more about trying to put us back together but it was never “I miss you so much. I cannot live without you. I live and breathe for you.” (writing that made me laugh because honestly, who are those people? Except for my parents who are both deceased, they don’t exist.) Can love be that desperate or passionate? It is something I certainly have never known. Today was no exception.
Keep in mind that back then you could actually meet your people at the terminal gate. Things have changed since then. I also used to fly in wide body jets across the country. Now we fly in plastic lawn chairs with padding that is about 1/2 inch thick and if you are lucky the seats recline. I digress. So here I am off the plane and I see my estranged husband. He has flowers for me. I found that to be a kind gesture. We did hug hello and as he handed me the flowers I heard a voice call my name, “Emily!” I gasped. Who is calling my name at LAX? I look around and I spot him somewhat hiding behind a pillar. Are you kidding me? He tries to approach and I turn and look at my husband and realize we never had a chance. We are doomed. We will never be whole. How did this happen? I looked at the man that my father ran out of town and yelled at him to go away! My husband took the flowers and jammed them into a garbage can then grabbed me and we walked away. I cried…for days. The emotional and verbal abuse began immediately in the car ride back to Huntington Beach and it never stopped. He called me a bitch, whore, c**t and anything else he could spew from his mouth and all I could think is how long am I going to last? How will I get out? Who told that other person I would be at LAX? Why is this happening to me? Needless to say we arrived home and I called my mother immediately. She must have been sitting on the phone waiting for my call because she knew what I had probably just experienced. She apologized. I was stuck again and my world had completely collapsed. I am stuck and there is nothing worse than this kind of abuse and the toll it takes on your spirit. This would be the time in my life that I would learn to become the strongest women I would ever have to be to walk out that door again.
*Abuse is abuse. It scars you. You become more delicate even though you have to be strong to survive it. Today has been odd for me. Vibrations are high and challenging my energy. My youngest daughter opened my eyes to something today and sometimes you need that reality check. She is right. This story of this part of my life is almost over but I have so much more to write. This relationship set the pattern of poor choices when it comes to any other relationship. I have allowed men to really treat me like garbage and I am not sure why I let that happen. Actually I do. It’s because I am kind. I give people chances. I believe in the good in people. I think all cowboys wear a white hat. I have been grossly wrong on more than one occasion*
…to be continued…