Once upon a time, not long ago, I was on my way to a club, freshly showered, made-up, and might I add - fierce. 100lbs lighter, and with a much shorter skirt, I stopped at the nearest gas station to buy a pack of gum. And there FL was.
He looked like
Now, he looked like a broke Christopher Williams though - splattered with paint, like he'd just left a construction site.
Here's where I had the distinct choice: work with the blue-collar man, or keep hope alive for my white-collar knight in shining armor, that hadn't shown up to date. After having recently read "Disappearing Acts' - I decided to give the brother a break.
It was the WORST mistake I've ever made in my life.
FL was and always will be a charmer. FL portrayed himself as the man I was looking for, the man I dreamed about. He tried to be my Knight-in-Dickies armor, and fulfill all my childish fantasies about love. And at the time, that's all I really wanted - was for him to love me.
Until the first time he hit me.
It was an accident. He more than made up for it, with kisses, with presents, with attention, with affection. And I lapped it up, because he loved me, and that was enough.
Until he hit me again, and again...and again.
...and I stayed, beyond all reason. I stayed even after the cops stood in my kitchen sampling my homemade chili, telling me how stupid he was for hitting me, and how much better I deserved, while they waited for the paramedics to take me to the hospital to set my broken hand.
...I stayed, even when he pushed me into a television set, and dragged me around the floor by my hair. I stayed when I found out he was cheating on me, and was relieved sometimes - because his other lovers gave me some relief from his rage.
...I stayed, even after I found out he was involved in an incestuous relationship with his blood-related first cousin. Yes, his cousin. And I caught them, el flagranté ... a$$-out on my living room floor. Although I stopped sleeping with him when I found out, I still stayed.
...I stayed, even after I shot at him, and thought about shooting myself. After he'd put his hands on me one time too many. After I picked up the empty beer-bottle he'd carelessly left on our living room table, and told him if he hit me again, one of us would die that day.
and I stayed, until he caused me financial hardships that threatened my future.
Why? of course you'd ask that...well...
He loved me. And I wanted - no - needed to be loved.
And we had a son, who was born in the midst of our violence, our drama, our blood, and my tears. A beautiful baby boy, who had 6 pneumonias between the ages of 5 months - 2 years old. Who was on life support when FL broke my hand, and had been diagnosed with developmental delays when FL broke my spirit. I quit my job to care for my sick child, and FL..well FL did what FL does best - he looked out for FL. Moved the cousin he was sleeping with into my house to "look out for me, and keep me company" (this was before I knew they were f^$%ing). And picked fights with me so he could come & go as he pleased.
Have you ever awakend at 3AM, and the whole world looked grey? Not just dark, but grey - absent of color, not as if it had been overwhelmed by the darkness, but...
...as if color had never existed?
That was what my world was like, at the end - before I removed FL from my life. Oh, my son's health got better, and I went back to work, bought a car, etc. I made myself up every day, and went out into the world, and I doubt to this day the world knew. But I knew...my world never had color, never had life...wasn't a life...until I removed FL from my life...
...more to come later...
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