If I have been able to keep going all these years, it is mainly thanks to my children, as I have already said. But I have also learned to separate the good times from the bad.
In May, before leaving home, I agreed to go to Cuba, a trip that had been planned for a long time. The condition was to realise that this was not a delayed honeymoon but, as "he" had promised, an opportunity to explain himself definitively. Of course, "he" did not keep his word. It was a difficult time for my children because "he" did not give me the opportunity to call them for a week. They were in a state of maximum anxiety.Sometimes I talk about this country and I only want to keep the positive memories. "He won't take that away from me. Even if it is a third world country, it is still a wonderful change of scenery. Every time I talk about it, I feel the uneasiness of those around me who know the difficult times I endured. I don't know how to make them understand that I am capable of hiding certain parts to retain only what is beautiful. How could I have lasted all these years without letting myself die.
On a different note, a few years ago I had to give up dyeing my hair because of an allergic reaction to dyes. Every morning when I wake up, "he" tells me that it's impossible to get used to this old face with grey hair. Now when I look in the mirror, I see my wrinkles, but I don't hear those words about my hair. I hear my hairdressers congratulating me on the thickness and the natural colour, which is so well distributed that it looks like it has been coloured. They are professionals and I want to believe them to be sincere. Next the "other"'s thoughts. I do everything I can to see myself as I am and not through "his" eyes.
The same goes for getting up in the morning. Yes, you heard me right. At the time, we were forbidden to get up whenever we wanted at the weekend. If we did, we'd get a really nasty argument. Nobody dares to get up first because it's never the right time. Either we haven't had enough sleep and we'll probably give him a bad day. Or we can't leave "him" alone for a while in the morning so that "he" can enjoy a day of rest. I usually get up before the kids and go to the front, battening down the hatches and pretending to listen to his admonitions. "He" addresses me as if I were a kid that "he" has to educate.Even now I get up at the time I want without question. I feel as if it never got to me. I'm starting to stop thinking about it. I want to act not according to what we have experienced but only as I feel it.
Not in opposition, not in agreement just my way.
YOU ARE READING
FROM THE NORM TO THE MARGIN
Non-FictionTo tell my life story is to talk about everyone's life, to share our worlds. I prefer to remain hidden in order to open up. Come and discover me through the pages. Perhaps you will also find yourself through my wounds, my doubts and my hope for a...
