I weren’t scared all the time.
I didn’t feel empty inside.
Laughter reached my heart.
I wasn’t married to someone whom I fear is a sociopath and cares nothing for the troubles of others.
I could open up and speak my heart and my fears without feeling he will just use them against me like he did before.
I could trust the only person I wanted an adult relationship with.
I could trust myself to know the difference.
I had been loved enough as a child to know how to love now that I am no longer a real child, and how love really feels.
I loved someone, other than my son, who wanted to offer me truth.
That I got to hear words which gave me confidence and hope that real change is occurring.
I knew what it felt like to be truly loved.
I had an adult someone I could love who wouldn’t just use me up and lie to me in return.
I were smart enough to get it right some day.
I felt safe in his arms and in his eyes rather than afraid and betrayed.
That he meant it when he said he never wanted to be that person again and would do everything to never be that way again.
That he would stop acting like an addict so I could hope again.
I would believe the evidence I see every day of how he is still in active addiction, multiple addictions, and so unchain my heart from someone I know still manipulates and lies to me and has not plan to succeed at overcoming his gluttony and abuse of life, his and others.
I didn’t feel like we are just right back where we were this time last year, with him saying the same things, doing the same things, acting the same way, and I feeling the same empty, lost, unloved, pushed away, manipulated and him hiding things.
I weren’t living with Mike again.
I had never married him.
I never married at all.
I could run away.
I felt loved.
I would stop being depressed and just get on with my own life and the things I want to do.
That going to therapy and feeling my old self for a short time hadn’t reminded me how empty my life feels now.
I didn’t look in his eyes and see that hard coldness, see him walking EXACTLY like his dad, see his dad’s coldness and self conceit.
He would really change so I could feel loving towards him again.
I were stronger.
I would pay attention to my son more rather than my pain.
I would find a way to put my pieces back together and go on with my life.
I could stop crying every day.
I could write about positive things rather than pain all the time.
I could manage to reave my house and my heart rather than the cluttered mess I end up with.
I thought he really cared, not about himself and his selfish wants, but about someone else.
I could love him better, not for him, because I don’t think it will make a damn bit of difference, but because I wanted to overflow with love and give that to someone, and I don’t overflow with anything anymore.
I would get to see the real miracle of a human changing and growing and becomming more, that he would succeed and be one of that tiny 5%.
I didn’t wish for love.
I didn’t wish.