The flashing lights of the Sheriff vehicles were illuminating the street while I stood outside describing the events that led up to a large hand print on the side of my face. As Law Enforcement escorted him to the car, I knew there was no turning back. A sense of relief washed over me along with dread and fear. He was leaving in handcuffs and I was on my own with my autistic son Samual. This was truly the end and the beginning.
Yes, the abuse was finally over. But just like reorganizing a closet there’s always a level of chaos. The new beginning wasn’t sunshine and roses. The “happily ever after” wasn’t in the cards. I had to make a call on the deal that would certainly leave me with nothing. And it did. We were evicted. I was lucky to get as much of my belongings into storage as I did. However, the life I built up over the last 7 years had been either left behind or trashed. The term “devastating” wasn’t even close to the feelings that came with change this drastic. I had and still have to remind myself that anything worthwhile takes work and dedication.
That concept truly came into play when Samual and I had to live on someone else’s couch for a while. How can I promote elegance and self improvement while living like a bum? It took me a minute but I remembered that elegance begins with the self. That resigning to a victim mentality wouldn’t help anyone. So, I would do what I needed to do with dignity and honor. I would not apologize for what happened, just show gratitude to those who were there for me.
Now, three men took advantage of me, my compassion, empathy and wanting to help others and most importantly my money. I feared going into another relationship. I didn’t want to end up in the same position I was in before. They made promises of being financially stable and having a loving and supportive partner. They lied. None of them held a job, or planned for our future. Nor was I truly allowed to have my own life. Their lives, pursuits, and dreams were more important than mine. What’s worse is that they all got me to play the “mom” role to them. They all followed the “man-child” description.
That last guy was the worst. If Narcissism had a picture next to its definition it would have shown him. Any tactic a narcissist would use for control he used on me. And I mean every tactic. I choke up thinking about how far he went to get what he wanted and how humiliated I felt every time he did what he did. I truly lost who I was if I forgot that I could actually fight back. So, the goal was for me to remember who I was and who I wanted to become.
Step one: reacquaint myself with me, my interests, hobbies, quirks, and mostly my strengths. Step two: design a plan to begin the creation of the real me. That plan included some serious self reflection. I couldn’t move forward while dragging fake Louis Vuitton emotional baggage.
Even then, life happens when you’ve made other plans. My time at my friend’s house was limited since he was going to begin renovations. So, I had to earn as much money as I could with the delivery service I work for. Well, my van’s mechanical issues became apparent. First, the master brake cylinder began failing so my van had trouble stopping at times. This limited my driving until I could get it replaced. But, just as I started building up the money, my poor van sprung an oil leak and locked up the whole engine. Since, the van was over 20 years old replacing the engine would have been more expensive than just selling the vehicle and investing in a new car. That was another emotional blow since the van was the last gift from my foster dad before he passed away. The whole ordeal starting with the brakes took about a month. Meanwhile, I was running out of time and running out of money. Come to find out people were getting mad at me because it was taking so long to get an apartment. Apparently, my friend’s property was a party hub and Samual and I were preventing the partying with our presence. So, I had less time than I thought.
It took a couple of days but I got my new car. I wasted no time getting back to work and made a good chunk of money to get me started. It was also the week of my birthday. I made enough to splurge a little on a small cake. I worked on my birthday because it was a day that often resulted in good profits. When my shift was done, Samual and I stopped to get my cake. I was happy to have a birthday away from my abusive ex. No arguing, bad jokes, or insults. When we got back to the house there was a group of people outside BBQing, drinking, and having fun. Someone came up to me, stopped, then said, “Oh. I thought you were someone else.” And walked away. Here I thought someone was going to wish me happy birthday and instead I was rejected. I grabbed the cake out of my car and walked into the house. The birthday song was sung by myself and Samual. I was doing my best to keep it together as I blew out the candles. My son and I ate by ourselves while all the people who were mad at me were outside having their fun. Streams of tears rolled down my face with every bite. It was my birthday and no one cared. I never felt so alone in my life.
The next few days I made enough money to leave the property and stay at an extended stay hotel. It was something I didn’t want to do but I didn’t really have a choice. It was a studio apartment style room. Small but I could work with it. However, it was expensive, a lot more than what a studio apartment would have cost. I couldn’t get a studio apartment because it required a lot more money upfront. Since I now have an eviction on my record apartment complexes wouldn’t even give me the time of day. So, the hotel was my only option.
Things were okay at first but that didn’t last long. My expenses were more than my income and the stress was building. It didn’t take long before I started falling behind again on my expenses.
Out of nowhere, someone I met about a year before my breakup finally admitted he was attracted to me. Obviously he waited to tell me because I was taken. He was very nice and understood my goofy sense of humor. I thought I would give him a chance since he already beat out the last three relationships. He actually held a job, and had his own car. Plus, Samual seemed to like him. He stayed at the hotel for a couple of nights regardless of telling him that privacy was minimal with it being a studio apartment and all. But he stuck around. Turns out he was ready to change his living situation too and he helped me get current on all my expenses. After that, I felt like I had a good man on my hands.
Of course, life intervenes and our adventure as an official couple was just beginning. The process of finding a real place to live was underway. In the meantime, the three of us were going from hotel to hotel just to have a roof over our heads. The best thing was that I wasn’t doing it all alone anymore. We were working as a team. With time, we found our way to an apartment. A real apartment. It’s still not the best situation but it is progress.
As I write this, it’s barely been 7 months since my breakup with my ex and so much has happened. And even with depression, anxiety, and now C-PTSD I realize I got exactly what I wanted. A chance to start over. My journey of a thousand miles begins now. So, here I am sharing all this hoping that maybe someone going through the same thing learns to not give up. That our journey is waiting for us to take that first step. Hold your head high because you know that in the end you will be who you’ve been trying to become. Today is your Day 1.
“I’m not finished becoming whoever the hell it is I’m gonna turn out to be. I make it through this, and the next thing, and the next thing, and maybe one day, I turn around and realize I’m ready.” Buffy Summers, Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Cultivating Elegance 