A Year's Journey

It’s been one helluva year. I think this was the year I finally became an adult. December 18, 2009 I started to live the life I should’ve always been living.

It was a rainy, gloomy Friday and I hadn’t slept well through the night. I had an idea of what the day was going to bring and I wasn’t all too sure I was going to be able to get through it. I got up to go to the restroom and my husband had asked me if I was going to be going to work today. I had taken two days off from work saying I had too many annual leave hours that I needed to use them before I lost them. That was a big lie because I had already turned in my letter of resignation a month ago, and my last official day had been on Tuesday. I told him I wasn’t going to go in that day either and he immediately knew something was up. He asked me what was going on and I didn’t know how to tell him what I was going to be doing but I was finally able to spit it out “I’m leaving. I’m going back home.” At first, he looked at me like I was crazy and asked me to repeat what I had said, so there I went again “I’m leaving you. I’m going back home. My dad is going to be picking me up at 10am.” And that’s where he reacted. He asked me if I was crazy, why was I doing this, did I realize that if I left that would definitely be the end of us, how could I not tell him, why was I taking away his daughter…the questions were endless. I just stood there, looking at him, gauging his reaction, thinking about whether my dad was finally going to see me with a busted lip or bruised eye (I had done a pretty good job of hiding them before). It didn’t happen. My husband got up from the bed, started getting dressed because he was going to be going to work (which he hadn’t done in months). Meanwhile he was crying and telling me to give him another chance. He asked me to think things through. He promised me that things would be different and that he was going to work on it. He begged me to not leave him alone and take his little girl away. All the while, I was standing at the foot of the bed, not able to even muster up a tear or two. I didn’t feel anything. I was completely hollow and literally blank. I explained to him that I had no job, I had already told all my family that I was leaving him, and my father was already on his way to go and pick me up. There was nothing else I could do.

It’s important to point out that my father was going to be the one picking me up. During the course of my five-year relationship with my husband, I had already left him about seven or eight times. Every single time I had gone back home, stayed there for a couple of weeks, and then I went back into the submissive-state-of-being that encompassed those five years. There were various times when I would call my poor mother and beg her to go and pick me up. While my mother would be trying to figure out how to get to where I lived, I would change my mind and call her and tell her to go back home. I’d explain that things were okay. I was fine. My mother would get angry and tell me why was it so hard to leave him; life would be okay without him. I couldn’t see it then. I didn’t understand it and I was scared to face it so I stayed there; let her know that I was okay and I was sorry for worrying her. Not once had I ever called my father and asked him to go for me. Never. Why? Because I couldn’t continually disappoint my father. I just couldn’t put him in that position because there was no way I was going to be able to face him again. That is why, this particular time, I decided that it was time to finally get myself out of that life and had to employ my father’s help. I knew, for a fact, I was not going to be calling him and asking him to turn back. I just didn’t have it in me to even fathom the idea of my doing that to him. And so I didn’t. He did manage to get there at around 9:45am. God bless his soul, my father had already researched all the ways to get to the house where we were living. Considering it was out in the middle of nowhere, my father got there without ever getting lost. He’s the absolute best.

So, my husband said goodbye to my daughter and me. He said that we were never going to be together again and for me to be sure of what I was doing because there was no way to reverse this. I wasn’t really paying too much attention; I was already packing away things in my mind. He left, supposedly went off to work, and I got ready to pack our things. My whole entire five years fit in three suitcases. How quaint. When my father arrived, I didn’t even hug or thank him, I just rushed to get things in the car so we could leave before my husband would return and possibly do something stupid. He didn't return. I didn't really expect him to. But I felt guilty for leaving him. I felt bad for doing this. I FELT BAD. Huh…it doesn’t make sense but I felt bad enough that I washed his clothes for him before I left. And I’m the one who’s the bad guy in this story. Ha.  

I was back home in a matter of hours. Laredo was the city I should’ve never left. I had been told time and time again, this is where I belonged. It didn’t click until a month or two before my return. What made life so much clearer was my grandma’s passing. I wasn’t there for her last couple of days. I visited only a couple of times the months prior to losing her. This woman had been there my whole entire life, and I wasn’t there for her the last couple of years of hers. I was living away from my family for what? What was I doing? I was in an unhappy marriage, living in a city that although I was already familiar with, it had no meaning to me, and my family was missing out on seeing my daughter grow. She is the first and only grand-daughter/niece and my family was missing out on everything. When my grandmother passed away, it killed me. I had to drive to Laredo from the Valley by myself because my husband didn’t make the effort to take time off to come with me. It made me mad because when I would visit my grandmother, she always forgot my name and called me ‘Tina’ but always remembered my husband’s. She’d always ask, “Oyes, Tina, y Johnny? Como esta? Donde esta?”. The asshole didn’t even attend her wake, her funeral, or any of her rosaries. Yet, I was choosing him over my entire family. I was done with it all. That was one of the main reasons why I decided to leave.

The first couple of days back in Laredo, flew by without much thought as to what I had done. Thankfully, I still had a job. The company I had been working for in the Valley offered me a job in Laredo and so I had something to sustain myself and my daughter. I was pretty much numb to everything. I went through the daily routine of caring for my daughter, going to work, and paying whatever debt I had accumulated while being with my husband. Since Christmas was around the corner, I had something to occupy my time and thoughts. My family surrounded my daughter and me like a warm blanket on a freezing, winter day. My daughter didn’t really pay much attention to the fact that her father wasn’t around. Christmas came and went and then it was New Year’s and that also flew by. I didn’t give much consideration to resolutions. I was still trying to internalize everything that had changed…but oblivion is a tough habit to quit. It would be my constant companion for a couple of additional months. I think the high wore off in about March; even then I still had withdrawal symptoms all the way through July.

When I finally became conscious of the life that I was now living, I realized a couple of things. I couldn’t cry about anything. Tears just wouldn’t come out. I’ve never be ashamed about crying. I think it’s a necessary evil because it brings about the release of so many energies that remain pent-up for such a long time. But now I found that I couldn’t get myself to cry. I could talk about what I had gone through without batting an eyelash. I knew that wasn’t a good sign. I understood that I still hadn’t accepted my reality. It took me months before I could actually cry. Even then it was not a constant thing.

I also realized that to be a good parent, one has to be there in more than just the physical sense. I was there for my daughter. I did all the things I had to do: take her to the park, to the doctor, movie, Peter Piper, visits with my mom, beaches, lakes…wherever she wanted to go, I took her. But most of the time, I’d take her and sit there watching her play and zone out. I’d get lost in my own thoughts. I was aware of what she was doing and made sure she didn’t hurt herself, but I wasn’t participating in her life. That’s when I noticed she started to act out a lot more. I didn’t understand. I did everything she wanted and yet she was still misbehaving…until it finally clicked: I wasn’t doing my job correctly. One morning while she was still asleep, I went to lie down next to her, and I looked at her serene, angelic face and realized that I should take advantage of this time with her. I then recognized that time isn’t something guaranteed and sooner than later she was going to grow up and I wasn’t going to be able to remember her childhood years. I also realized that if I didn’t change my parenting skills now, I was going to be losing her pretty soon. So I made a promise to her and to myself, that no longer would I sulk in my own self-pity but I would take great care of my time spent with her. Life got a little bit easier then and my daughter was happier. I did feel guilty for having wasted the months I did on dealing with my own issues but I couldn’t linger on that thought anymore. I kinda let them go in one of those helium balloons they give away in parades. I was a little bit lighter. 

These past twelve months have not been easy. Some have treated me better than others. I have tripped, stumbled, fallen, laughed, cried, doubted, understood, questioned, thanked, and at the end of it all accepted. I am still standing, I guess that would be the most important part; and the fact that I’m still in Laredo. Now THAT is a huge accomplishment. I have had a couple of chances to reconcile with my ex, which I must admit that at times it was very enticing. Not so much because I missed him or missed the life I lead with him, but rather because it would be easier for my daughter. I wouldn’t have to go days without her and worrying about how she is when she’s with him. But I know it’s best to stay the way we are. With him hours away and with my daughter and me safely in a city where our support system live. I know, this is one year out of the many that continue ahead in my (hopefully) long journey in life and there are going to be some walls I’m going to run into; of that I am fully aware of. But I have survived it without too many scratches and bruising. The upcoming year is going to be a daunting one and it’s going to bring with it a lot of changes but I’m strong enough to deal with them. After all, what’s life without the obstacles…no one ever said it would be easy.