The black, white and blurred lines
I don't recall what started it all.
For a while I did, I could remember every word, every sentence and exchange, now I just see the looks and I feel the impact that those words I held onto for so many months still have on me today.
My mother plays soccer, indoor during the winter months, and it was December. The year had been a long and trying year, as all of them seem to have been. I played soccer when I was younger, when I was very young my mom and my stepdad coached my team, and then in highschool I almost played an entire season before my dad made me quit the team. Yes, I was forced to quit the team as a sophomore in highschool. Why? Well that would be because one day, my grandmother was unable to pick me up, so one of the girls gave me a ride to my grandmothers house since she lived right down the road. I went to my grandma's on the days I had practice, and my grandma paid for my extracirriculars, and was the only constant at every one of my games- home or away. But my stepmother seemed to be following me, and saw this, reported it to my father, and then I was forced to call my coach, tell him I was irresponsible and that I would be quitting the team.
I played indoor two years later after I moved out, but once I started dating my husband that went swiftly out the window. Back to December, my mom was in need of subs for a game (not enough players for the players on the field to get breaks), so I said that I would ask if I could go. << Yes, I said I would ask to go, the fact that I had to do that at nearly thirty irked me as well, but I knew better than to think that I could go play soccer on a weeknight with my MOM on an all girls soccer team without getting told a simple "no," or how stupid it was, why would I do that, it's too late, far, etc. I did mention it, I went, loved it, got the attitude, the myriad of reasons it was dumb and so on, and I said that I wanted to join the team. I am relatively sure this was the start of the straw.
Several small arguments rolled into huge arguments after this weekly trip to play soccer. That I was just "sticking him with the kid" "it must be nice to go and do what I want," and each night I would come home to an attitude and rude remarks. Finally, the straw broke the camels back.
I spoke up and said that I wouldn't stand for not having an opinion, for being controlled or being told that I am not permitted to see my own family or that I have a certain amount of time that I am allowed to be out and that I am required to check in, that I am a wife and not a child. That I just am so beaten down that I don't even know if I have feelings anymore, and then it slipped, "I don't even know if I can honestly say that I love you anymore."
Those feelings and looks that I will always remember, that sentence, that look and that feeling, I won't ever forget those. It was like something cracked, something I held in for so long was just released. I could see in his eyes that he knew this time it wasn't just a "let her cool off" fight, this was a little more than that. I told him that I really thought that we needed to think about being done because I just couldn't keep doing this.
That was the beginning of something, the end? A new beginning? It was simply a new chapter, and I had finally opened my mouth and said what I was afraid of.
For a while I did, I could remember every word, every sentence and exchange, now I just see the looks and I feel the impact that those words I held onto for so many months still have on me today.
My mother plays soccer, indoor during the winter months, and it was December. The year had been a long and trying year, as all of them seem to have been. I played soccer when I was younger, when I was very young my mom and my stepdad coached my team, and then in highschool I almost played an entire season before my dad made me quit the team. Yes, I was forced to quit the team as a sophomore in highschool. Why? Well that would be because one day, my grandmother was unable to pick me up, so one of the girls gave me a ride to my grandmothers house since she lived right down the road. I went to my grandma's on the days I had practice, and my grandma paid for my extracirriculars, and was the only constant at every one of my games- home or away. But my stepmother seemed to be following me, and saw this, reported it to my father, and then I was forced to call my coach, tell him I was irresponsible and that I would be quitting the team.
I played indoor two years later after I moved out, but once I started dating my husband that went swiftly out the window. Back to December, my mom was in need of subs for a game (not enough players for the players on the field to get breaks), so I said that I would ask if I could go. << Yes, I said I would ask to go, the fact that I had to do that at nearly thirty irked me as well, but I knew better than to think that I could go play soccer on a weeknight with my MOM on an all girls soccer team without getting told a simple "no," or how stupid it was, why would I do that, it's too late, far, etc. I did mention it, I went, loved it, got the attitude, the myriad of reasons it was dumb and so on, and I said that I wanted to join the team. I am relatively sure this was the start of the straw.
Several small arguments rolled into huge arguments after this weekly trip to play soccer. That I was just "sticking him with the kid" "it must be nice to go and do what I want," and each night I would come home to an attitude and rude remarks. Finally, the straw broke the camels back.
I spoke up and said that I wouldn't stand for not having an opinion, for being controlled or being told that I am not permitted to see my own family or that I have a certain amount of time that I am allowed to be out and that I am required to check in, that I am a wife and not a child. That I just am so beaten down that I don't even know if I have feelings anymore, and then it slipped, "I don't even know if I can honestly say that I love you anymore."
Those feelings and looks that I will always remember, that sentence, that look and that feeling, I won't ever forget those. It was like something cracked, something I held in for so long was just released. I could see in his eyes that he knew this time it wasn't just a "let her cool off" fight, this was a little more than that. I told him that I really thought that we needed to think about being done because I just couldn't keep doing this.
That was the beginning of something, the end? A new beginning? It was simply a new chapter, and I had finally opened my mouth and said what I was afraid of.
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