I thought I could change him, or maybe he’d understand me eventually. He’d understand that calling me names isn’t okay. I gave him ultimatums but it kept happening.
I could become numb to it, but I didn’t grow up calling anyone names.
I grew up in a suburb where people rarely even cussed.
I thought the looks would lure me back in, I thought the hugs would be enough for my heart, the momentary bliss of being loved, I thought the comfort of the good times were enough but they weren’t.
Because the disrespect, the driving off without conversation, the name calling, it was enough to change my mind.
I wasn’t able to change him or convince him to change. My words weren’t enough.
I knew that God would tell me to tell him how I felt, but each time, I felt the apology was just a cover up, like a band-aid. The wound was still there.
What really got me out was when I started meeting people who were eager to see me, didn’t brush me off, treated me with respect, showed a desire to hang out with me. I felt like I was often begging for attention with him.
I felt like I was annoying to him, so why bother, why tell me that he loved me, that he saw marriage with me.
I tried over and over to communicate, to express my thoughts and emotions and needs, but there wasn’t enough conversation for me, it felt like I was trying to tell a bull to move.
I read a quote recently that said you’ll attract what you want or am ready for. I started to meet people who were willing to talk about things that were hard and to express their emotions.
I thought I couldn’t live without him because I experienced so many good times with him, but I’ll simply remember the bad times and remember that I’m better off. I even blamed myself.
I’m the one overwhelming him, I’m doing this or that. But I realize it’s no excuse for his behavior.
Reel Youtube- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fnGlbjqzx_Y