Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Lucky

I saw a couple fighting in public.
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I get mad sometimes. So does Tim. Sometimes we yell. We're not perfect. Sometimes I look at the man that God sent to me and cast a glance heavenward, moaning, "God what were you thinking?" He's quiet, and spends a great deal of time thinking. Me? I can be quiet, but mostly, I find everyone and everything has a story, and am always anxious to hear it.
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My ex-husband had very definate ideas on what kind of person I should be. I never met that standard, mind you. Not pretty enough, skinny enough, smart enough, not enough. He was always pissed about something and he would yell. He would back me into a corner with his yelling, and continue to yell until the spittle was flying. He had to stop hitting. It cost a lot of money to put my front teeth back where they'd always been.
I was quiet in those days.
It did me no good to talk, and my own story was so impossible that I couldn't be interested in anyone else's story.
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You can see why I had such reservations about marrying Tim. Like Humpty Dumpty, I was struggling to put things back together again after my divorce. But we have moved through nearly 10 years, more or less peacefully.
He's learned to talk more.
I've learned to speak less.
Well.
Sometimes.
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I watch this couple fighting in public, going at it, hammer and tongs. I flinch at their ugly words. Neither of them were giving an inch. I watch them get in their car and drive to hell. And for a moment, in a parking lot, I allow myself to ponder 'what if?'
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Oh, Christ, I am the luckiest person I know.

12 comments:

Mrs Mom said...

Amen to that. Glad you found who you needed this time, and that things are getting better and better!

Used to be, I thought all that "true love" slop was just that- slop. Not any more.... Now there is a Dear Husband and two little fellows, and Life Is Good.

Hope yours keeps getting better!

(My first visit here- found you through Painted Promise! Totally enjoyed my visit, and sure can understand the Chapped Butt post too! had me LOL quite a bit... Looking forward to coming back!)

Bush Babe (of Granite Glen) said...

Well... there's lucky and there's Lucky. Reminds me of my brother and a mate who, with one following the other home one night, managed somehow to crash into each other quite badly. My brother's brand new ute was crumpled, and they just stared at each other in silence after they climbed out of their cars. My brother eventually said: "Could have been worse, guess we're pretty lucky really". His mate just said: "Oh yeah... F***ing lucky!" Cracks me up every time they tell it.

Not that your story is funny. It's heart-rendingly real and touching. But lucky... sometimes girl, you make your own luck. You deserve THAT kind of luck, all the way.

Hugs
BB

Redlefty said...

I'm loving the opportunity to discover your story, both the beauties and the horrors.

Thank you for talking.

Mary Paddock said...

It's hard to be witness to someone else's really lousy moment. Perhaps they'll go off and be embarrassed about it later when they come to their senses. Sometimes they're a very loving couple caught in the absolute worst of circumstances.

Or sometimes they're simply someone with no sense of decorum or propriety.

Regardless, it does make those of us married to truly decent men go home and hug them.

'Think I'll go hug mine. :)

jeanie said...

I think there is luck that finds you and luck you create.

You were lucky (how?) that you knew what you didn't want and what you weren't willing to put up with when you and Tim found each other.

Pretty crappy way to get to that luck, I must admit, but it probably helped distance the relationship that you and Tim have from the public display of - ummm - affection you witnessed.

steviewren said...

"Oh, Christ, I am the luckiest person I know."

Amen!

Alison said...

I think your story is brave and courageous and inspiring, and I consider myself lucky to hear it. Thank you for sharing, Deb. You are one kewl chick.

Lavinia Ladyslipper said...

Debby, I am so sorry to read this post and learn that you endured such violence. But I am so glad that you got away. From the violence and also from the damaging, belittling words that were spoken to you but not of you. You ARE enough, you ARE and I'm glad that you know that now.

Here's to your healing....

debby said...

LL: Yes. I got away, but was not bright enough to get away before it all sloshed over and hurt my own child. My healing will be complete when my own child can climb out of her abyss. Not until.

Yup. You make your own luck to a degree, but I think that God has thrown some great opportunities in my path. I was able to see them and take advantage of them.

alice said...

I love reading stories like this - not love as in it makes me happy, - but love as in power of truth in words. Amen to you, Debby.

PaintedPromise said...

what mary paddock and lavinia ladyslipper said! i gotta go hug my Randy now too :)

i was lucky, i guess, as my ex beat me with his mouth (words) - except that it left no marks for others to see so that when i left, no one understood... he said to me, i never hit you, and i said to him, i wish you had, because it would have only taken once for me to be gone, intead of staying for two years and letting you beat me with your mouth!!!"

yup, gotta go hug my Randy :)

debby said...

Eh, don't be so sure about the 'once and I'd have been gone'. I was raised in a violent home. I swore I'd never live like that. But I did. I did. He always apologized and swore it would never happen again. I remember once he was mad about something and came at me. I was standing in front of a mirror brushing my hair. I saw it coming in the mirror. I whipped around and smacked him along side the head with a hair brush. It happened so quickly we were both shocked and staring at each other. I looked at my broken hair brush (I hit him HARD). and then looked at him and said, "You know, you beat a dog long enough, you're going to get bit." At some point, I just quit fighting. He quit apologizing. I can't pinpoint it. I don't know why. But it happened more than once. I always comforted myself with the fact that he was an excellent father. He never hit the kids. Ironically. And then one day he knocked my teeth out. He quit hitting. Then, as you say, Susan, things got bad.