Thirteen years ago, I signed a lease on a small apartment. My daughter sat beside me. I finished signing, laid down the pen, and put my forehead on the desk. And then I cried.
I felt a hand on my back. My sweet 18-year-old baby grownup, Trixie, leaned over and asked softly, “Mom? Are you okay?” I lifted my head up to answer her but I couldn’t speak. All I could do was nod my head yes as the tears streamed down my face.
“Why are you crying?” she asked. I looked at her concerned face and thought about how to explain. I was crying with relief that it was finally over. The sweetest release had washed over me and the weight of a thousand worlds lifted up and away off my shoulders. It was over. The tension. The fighting. The control. The cruelty. Being manipulated. Being “less than”. Being the family scapegoat, the “outlaw” instead of the in-law … and being the only married-single person I knew.
It’s 13 years later and I still get emotional when I think of that moment. I wasn’t crying with sadness, or regret, or fear. I was crying for myself and my daughter for what I had just done to break the cycle and set us free. I was crying with relief that from now on, we would live in a home filled with love and laughter, and peaceful silence. And understanding, compassion and joy. I couldn’t believe I survived it. But I did and it was finally my turn to live the life I wanted but couldn’t have because of the invisible ties that bound us to such a negative situation.
When I could speak, I said that I was crying tears of relief and joy and hope. And that I was so very, very happy. I knew that we had a lot of healing in front of us, but that we would get there together. Because together is how we always rolled. In fact, we were here today because she so fiercely had my back.
A few weeks prior to this moment, I had been outside watering my plants. I escaped the oppressive atmosphere from inside the dark house, where blinds were always shut the minute he came home from work. Noise was not an option. Speaking up was not allowed, at least not without consequences. Trixie learned long ago that shutting herself in her room during the evenings, unnoticed, was the best way to avoid the blowups. I took refuge outside where the sun was still shining and I could breathe.
That evening, she came outside to sit with me when I was finished with the plants. She asked me when I was going to leave him. I told her that she shouldn’t be worrying herself about that and we should be focusing on her plans to leave for college in a few months. She responded that she was not about to leave me here alone and that if I didn’t leave, she wasn’t going to either. She would put off her hopes and dreams to make sure I was safe.
As I sat there and absorbed this, I felt so much shame. I thought that by staying in this sham of a marriage I was protecting her, but it was at that exact moment that I realized my mistake. I thought I had been protecting her from living a life in two homes with two very different ways of life. I thought I was protecting her from being neglected when she wasn’t with me. From unchecked anger and carefully hidden cruelty. But instead, I had exposed her to a continued cycle of control, manipulation and selfishness. How had I made such a huge mistake?
I looked at her sweet face and into the green eyes that mirrored my own and knew that she meant what she said. So, instead of doing what I had thought was the right thing, which was to wait until she was safely off to college and then plan my exit … I swerved from the far lane onto the exit ramp at full speed and decided to break free right then. She deserved to leave without guilt, knowing that I was going to be okay. Yes, I felt like a loser for putting her in such a painful spot. But she was right and I was finally able to give her what she needed, so I was all in.
Within two weeks, we were out of that house. Finally. And we were together. You could say that I did it for her. But in reality, she did it for me. She set us both free. How I raised such a courageous, thoughtful and loving person in that house was completely beyond me. And I cried. I cried that day for the life I wish I would have given her. The one she deserved. I cried for everything we had both endured. And for the strength I knew I needed to get through what was ahead.
But that day, in the leasing office, I cried with relief that it was over. And I cried with hope for everything that was in front of us. The hard part was over. We had a home waiting for us now. A place where the blinds could stay open and laughter could be loud and no one had to disappear into their room to stay safe.
And sitting beside me was the brave young woman who had helped me find the courage to finally sign my life back.
Roxie Rides Again 