I want to start off this post with a few warnings and notes. 1. I know I am writing about the past and need to try to forgive, forget, and move on…but sometimes that is just not easy and writing helps me cope. 2. Greg and I are fine…tense due to pregnancy hormones and adjusting to a new schedule but this is NOT in any means a sign that we are in turmoil. 3. This is my space…my place where I want the kids to one day come and understand a lil bit more about the me that is their mom…and sadly, these are things their mom has to deal with. And 4. With all the DV topics surrounding the Grammys and other media, it’s hard not to have this issue on my mind. This post is sensitive and contains some history about me and my past so you’ve been alerted in advance.
I scrub and scrub and scrub but it doesn’t go away. The grime on the silver parts of the bathroom sink just won’t go away. They will never go away good enough to the point where I am satisfied with their shine.
I’ve tried. They are tarnished beyond my repair and regardless of how hard or how long I scrub, they will never be just right. And someone is always going to notice. Someone is always going to criticize how bad I’ve done at my job. Even when I have given it every ounce of strength and shed tears against the reflective surface…it just won’t be enough.
The grime on my sink is likely invisible to you, but to me, it sparks horrible, awful feelings. Aches. Pains. Memories that as hard as I try, and as much as I talk them out with a counselor, I cannot erase. As many times as I forgive myself for staying, I equally beat myself up for not leaving sooner.
It will never be good enough to take away the hurt and the anger. The unequal balance of independent woman in a relationship with a boy who thinks he can control her and make her work long days and provide the perfect home to hide their imperfect relationship. Because the shining silver sink hole is going to hide the bruises and the scars. Because it will take away the need to hide the truth from close friends and family because you don’t want to admit you’ve failed. Yup, keep scrubbing that sink harder and all you will get is raisin fingers and an aching back.
And perhaps some harsh words that you aren’t good enough, didn’t they teach you how to take care of a house at that women’s college? Didn’t they prepare you to care for a man so he can sit and watch TV and bark orders at you or the pizza guy or the innocent dog? Keep scrubbing.
But even when you do get the gumption to end it, there are these things that you will always carry with you. Things you can’t erase. Things that haunt you at the stupidest moments. Things that you don’t expect will trigger these PTSD type moments, making you want to keep scrubbing harder to make it all go away, to make it all shine.
One day, it will be easier. One day, it won’t happen so often. One day, it will not be triggered by simply tossing a load of clothes in the wash to do your loving partner a favor.
Because one day? You will understand that you are worth it. That you are shiny enough and good enough to really, truly be loved. That one day is coming. It may take more courage and strength than you realize…but one day…you’ll have scrubbed enough to forget.
And it’s ok that today is not that day…because you have the strength to know this is just one bad day in many years of good. So scrub. And work this out.