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The Wild Edge of Love Part 3
The Last Straw
Mother’s Day, 2019, was hell. I woke up peacefully in bed with my husband and talked a bit about something (I don’t remember what). It wasn’t a heated argument, or a challenging conversation. I remember it being just another one of his explorations. To help you understand what that means, I must explain that my ex is a “dreamer”. And it takes a lot of energy to keep dreaming and dreaming and never “doing”. I had stopped giving him my energy for that long before. That morning, I think he might have been trying to manipulate me into allow my soul to get sucked out of my nose yet again. But I would not. Still, however, it was a conversation, not an argument. I had not been triggered into my normal trauma response. That’s how I know its was not an argument.
I got up from bed and went to draw my ritual Sunday morning bath. Sunday was the only day I could squeeze in an hour, alone and quiet with my Krista Tippett podcast, On Being. I treasured that hour! But this morning was different. He followed me into the bathroom, shut the door, and started yelling. He used the “f” word at least 10 times, calling me all kinds of names, accusing me of being detached and not caring. I could not get away. Our bathroom is very small. There was no way out. I stood there, being barraged with words that made no sense to me…yet again. Nothing he said made sense to me. I stood…
