Cold Haiku

unemotional

volcanic gazes frozen

hearts broken, love lost

Inspired by the prompt at

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Confrontation

      The biggest confrontation of my life is still a very vivid memory.  It was a moment when I finally stood up for myself.   It was the proverbial straw that broke the camels back of my first marriage.    At the time, we lived with my parents.  We never did officially set up housekeeping like normal married couples.  At first, it was because we didn’t have a lot of money.  After the beatings started, I was afraid to live alone with him.  I truly think he would have killed me.  I didn’t have to do anything to set him off at all.  At the time I was working a full time job and going to college at night.  He worked 2nd shift, so by the time he got home, I was usually asleep.  I had to get up early the next morning and go to work.  The fact that I was asleep was enough to pi$$ him off.  I remember being grabbed by the hair and thrown out of bed and slammed against the wall in a heap being a normal every night ritual.

        Shortly after my mom was first put on dialysis, my brother in law and his girlfriend had come to visit.  My ex had already put away a case of beer and was lit.  He was to the point where he could turn on me at any minute.  He became mean when he drank, and I have to admit…I was terrified of him.  I didn’t have to do much to set him off.  I have terrible allergies, and a runny nose could get me slapped upside the head and thrown into a wall quicker than I could bat an eyelash.    At that point in life I was afraid to leave him and knew it was a moot point because we lived with my parents.  Where in G0d’s holy name could I go?  Who would have helped me?  I had nowhere to go, and no one who would help me.  People tend to avoid things like this and don't want to get involved.  I didn’t want to burden others, and primarily I was ashamed.  At that point in my life, I believed I deserved to be treated that way.  After all, I was the dumb a$$ that said “I do” when I should have said “I don’t think so!”  I took my wedding vows seriously and firmly believed “till death do us part”.  

         I walked out in the living room and heard the three of them planning on tying fireworks to my cat and blowing her straight to hell.  I had no doubt in my mind that they would do it.  I was terrified and took my cat to my mother and told her to lock her bedroom door.  At that point my mother was outraged.  She grabbed her faithful shotgun Maude and marched out to the living room and ordered them all to get out of her house immediately or she would go get the sheriff who lived down the street.


        

       My ex-husband picked me up and threw me into the piano and then advanced towards my mother.  I picked myself up and put myself between him and her.  For the first time, I stood up to him and offered myself up to be sacrificed.  I told him he could kill me, but there was no way in hell I would allow him to lay one finger on my mom.  That stopped him cold.  He finally got the hint and left with his company following close behind.    I had made up my mind that it was over.  He was never going to lay a hand on me again.  He would either stop and leave, or kill me in the process.  Either way, I wasn’t being treated that way anymore by anyone.  

  
       Something inside me snapped that night with that momentous confrontation.      He left and filed for a divorce.  It was finally over, and I had survived.  I came out of that situation a much stronger person with a backbone made of steel.  The shy, timid mouse was gone and in her place a strong lady armed with a ready supply of whip-a$$ ready to take on the world.   I will never tolerate that kind of treatment again.   Thank G0d I lived to tell the tale, married my dear trucker husband, had children, and finally got to find true happiness until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

History

     Have you ever heard the phrase that history repeats itself? I have heard it a lot in reference to people. For example a lot of people have said that children of divorce grow up and get a divorce themselves. Before I was born my parents were divorced. On the day they signed the papers they had a moment of insanity. I was that moment of insanity. Although my folks never remarried, my dad was always around. In fact, I never realized they were technically divorced until I was in my early twenties. Even my maternal grandparents were divorced back when it wasn’t fashionable to do so. The vicious cycle began all those years ago. History repeated itself with my parents, and then with my sister who was divorced 3 times, and even with me. This is my second marriage.

     When you are a product of divorce you are never taught that marriage should be a one shot deal. You know from experience that if things don’t work out there is an escape clause. You don’t have to tolerate that a$$ forever, you simply kick them to the curb and find someone else. The sanctity of marriage is lost in the process. Even though my first marriage ended in divorce, I still wanted the happily ever after. I knew that marriage was intended for a lifetime. While taking the vows you promise to love each other till death parts you, through sickness and health. On the flipside of the coin, my paternal grandparents were married over 50 years, had 5 kids, and oodles of grandkids including yours truly. Their home was filled with happiness, belief in G0d, and the importance of family. Hopefully their history repeats itself with me and my husband and we have broken the cycle and my kids will find the right one before they take the plunge. It is my hope they will value family and not take their marriage vows lightly making good choices.

     History repeats itself because people are creatures of habit. They simply do what they know. If kids are abused, they will grow up to be the ones that abuse. Even more sadly, they may think that is all they deserve and search for a partner that will continue the abusive cycle thinking if someone truly loves them, they will knock them upside the head or push them down the stairs.

    

      Even as you read this your life is playing out. Your history is being written. I used to think that history had more to do with what happened years ago. You know, like the facts that we all memorized back in our high school history classes. History involved wars, discovering new places, inventing new things, and past presidential terms. On closer reflection, each of us is apart of history. We are the ancestors of future generations, just as our great grandparents are to us.

  

       One day we will be all regulated to history. Loved ones that have passed on are essential parts of our own personal history. They are gone, but not forgotten and still very much alive in our minds. We are all very much apart of the tapestry of history. My great grandfather was a farmer, then my grandfather farmed, and two of my uncles followed suit and became farmers. My dad was a truck driver, and I married a truck driver. History continues to repeat itself through the generations whether in matters of lifestyle or profession. There will always be those that come along and have the balls to throw a monkey wrench in the gears and dare to be different. Regardless, history will continue to write itself until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.