Fourteen. It’s the number of years that I stayed, through thick and thin. Through the droughts and the waves that almost drowned me as you held me under the rushing waters. But, I stayed. And, I’m not sorry.
Five. The number of children who call me mommy. Still, countless more that I mothered in our home because my heart’s love for children runs deeper than can be measured. Five. The number of children who depend on me as I single-parent them. Still, I’m not sorry.
Uncountable. The tears I cried and prayers I prayed that you would be made whole and holy. Or, that I would die. Whichever. I quit caring. The moments of loneliness as I laid on hospital beds, alone, or with our children as they fought to live but you couldn’t be bothered. But, I was there. And, I’m not sorry.
For the years I fought for a man’s heart and soul who couldn’t care less. The countless books, therapies, prayers, and programs I tried to bring you back to Him. For the battles I fought on my knees as I laid down all of MY hopes and dreams and I told God I’d live this life of hurt and misery if that’s what He wanted. For the many times I hid my tears and ugly cried under the covers or in the shower because I just wanted to be adored…loved…and instead, I tucked away my heart and hopes like an old envelope in the nightstand, instead focusing on being the best wife and mommy I could. I’m not sorry.
For the dreams and career I gave up because you asked me to and so I could be a mom and teacher to my children. Our children. For the life you ripped away from us because you couldn’t tame your wickedness, while I stood brave and strong as a shield to protect my children. I’m not sorry.
And now, I’m free from your sharp deceitful flesh-ripping talons…and, I’m not sorry about that, either.
I’m not sorry because today I stand sure of who I am. Sure of who YOU are…and who you are NOT. I am no longer swept up in your gaslit lies. I am no longer swayed by the sugar-dripped lies that roll off of your lying tongue. I am strong. I am brave. You told me I was nothing without you, and yet here I stand. And, I’m not sorry.
Today, my children are thriving. WE are thriving. I no longer lay awake wondering what hell awaits when daylight breaks. I no longer need an escape plan if things go bad. I no longer worry about the dangers you’ve invited in or the dangerous secrets you keep or the lust you cannot contain. Lies roll off of your tongue as you spin stories for why and how you lost your family, always the victim in these scenes. But, we are FREE…and, I’m still not sorry.
