Todd is sleeping in a comfortable king-sized bed back at the house... HIS house. Last time I slept in that bed was a few months ago when he was in the hospital.
This is my "blah, I'm exhausted" way of telling you that I left Todd. Surprise! Wait, I don't have the energy for an exclamation mark. Don't need one anyway, because to those who know what's been going on, it's no surprise. Or is it? Maybe you thought I'd never do it.
I know a lot of women who have left for a night, maybe two... and ended up right back where they were before they went through the inconvenience of displacing themselves. I'm determined not to be one of them. So I must stand firm.
Todd crossed an unacceptable line in the eyes of many in society. He crossed a line I never should have accepted years before that. In the midst of an angry tirade, he grabbed our youngest daughter's wrists in a manner that hurt and frightened her. He had already frightened our youngest son when he was throwing and breaking things, and fortunately my son's laptop was not in the backpack Todd threw.
But the line of unacceptable behavior he crossed years earlier was a more subtle line. You needn't call the police for that line violation because they don't care unless someone gets physically injured.
I've been saying it for a long time: If my father had talked to me the way Todd talks to the children (primarily the younger three), I would have hated him and there is no way I would have a relationship with him now. Yet, my kids seem to bounce back. Outwardly, at least, kids appear to be amazingly resilient. The thing that frightens me is that this might be because for my kids, this is the norm. Walking on eggshells or dealing with the daddy tantrums is the daily way of life. I regret staying so long.
The word is getting out in our community that I left Todd. People are hearing bits and pieces about how I called the police, and how I'm not speaking with Todd, and how I'm not planning on going back until he is out of the house. I spoke to a friend who was actually visiting Todd as he was receiving text messages from his wife informing him about what was going on. He had an interesting perspective, because the Todd in front of his eyes was being charming and congenial, the perfect foil of the Todd he was glancing down at his phone and reading about....
He might have thought I was crazy because surely this man was not the one I spoke of... however, he had worked with Todd years earlier. WAY before Todd's accident. And he told me about how he had noticed Todd's anger issues then. He knew well the personality that conceals the anger in public and makes his family members look like fools if they speak up. He had been raised by that type of a man.
This friend went on to tell me how wonderful what I'm doing is. He said, "I wish my mother had done the same thing when my brother and I were your boys' ages." Instead, he had grown up in the shadow of (and often the victim of) rage. That meant so much to hear. Especially today when I felt ripped and torn down by another "well-intended" person who just didn't get it.
I almost bought into this person's assertion that I was in the wrong for not having contacted Todd yet and telling him where his kids are--that without me laying down some stipulation, he doesn't know how to fix things.
But then I remembered: I have a cell phone. And he knows what he did. If he doesn't think what he did (and what he said) warrants an apology, I have nothing to say to him.
I have talked until I was blue in the face about our decades' old issues. I have written him detailed letters (letters that I run across on his dresser 20 years later and only the date indicates they are that old--I could have written them yesterday--not even the simplest of changes have been made.) I have poured my heart into a journal which he read without permission (full of honesty that if he cared could have provided a blueprint to reconciliation... but maybe he was just reading for ammunition... or for the sheer thrill of violating my privacy.)
He knows what to do. I only hope that I can maintain the fortitude to stand firm and not cower to those who expect me to jump through cookie-cutter hoops to fix this marriage as if the marriage is all that matters.
I'd love to go to bed now. To have my own bed. Someone please tell me that such rest will come.
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