A very special five year anniversary.

Tags

abusive relationship, domestic abuse, emotional abuse, gratitude, life, love, perspective

Five years ago today, I finally summoned the courage to leave an abusive relationship.  I’d been with him for seven years.

“Why don’t they just leave?” I used to say of women who stayed with abusive partners. I thought I was too smart to fall into that trap.

I learned the hard way how wrong I was.

He was older and seemingly wiser.   His charms slowly tarnished over time, until words that I’d once used to describe him – like smart, quick-witted, observant, attentive – became what they really were: sarcastic, harsh, cynical, obsessive.   Throughout our relationship, I felt my identity slowly slip away from me, until I was merely a means to his end.  I was not as important.  He made that clear.  I stopped caring about myself sufficiently and considered only him and his opinions, his feelings, his plans.  I believed that he was the most important person in my world, and that I was secondary.

There were no telltale bruises, marks, or scars.  All of my wounds were on the inside.  Words were his weapon of choice, and he was a master of manipulation.

Even with my two closest friends beseeching me to leave him, I stayed. “I can’t leave him — it would devastate him,” I would say, giving very little consideration to how terribly depressed and unfulfilled I was.

One day — five years ago today — with the help of a friend in whom I’d confided my fear, I did finally leave, knowing that it was necessary to preserve my sanity, but feeling terrified that I was making a mistake.

It was no mistake — it was the wisest choice I’ve ever made in my life.

Since February 26, 2010, I’ve accomplished some pretty awesome things.  It’s a long list, but here are some highlights:

I’ve recorded and released 4 CDs of my music.  I’ve toured all over the US in a Winnebago with my bandmates and closest friends.  I’ve learned to how to ride a motorcycle.  I’ve hiked the Grand Canyon.  I’ve been brought to tears by the wonders of the American Museum of Natural History in New York City.  I’ve watched the sun set on the Pacific Ocean.  I’ve played jazz on Bourbon Street.  And I fell in love and built an amazing life with my best friend, someone who encourages me everyday to be me.

Every single one of these things was a lifelong dream of mine, and every single one was unthinkable in my old life.

Take it from someone who usually learns things the hard way – don’t ever let anyone tell you that your dreams aren’t worth following or that you are selfish for even wanting to do so.  Such sentiment is a poison.  Those admonitions still occasionally haunt me, and yet I wake up every morning feeling grateful for another opportunity to continue living life in full pursuit of such dreams.

Life is beautiful and tragic and, most strikingly of all, it’s far too short.  Get out there and live your life! — because when you do, you smile, and then everyone around you will start smiling too.

Saturday Morning Musings – Out of the shadows and into the light.

Tags

domestic abuse, emotional abuse, happiness, life, moving on, perspective

Though I don’t think of it as often as I once did, and as much as it pains me to admit it, I do occasionally wonder if (and when) I will run into you and, more importantly, what type of reaction this event will stir within me.

Even the anticipation of it has literally woken me from sleep in the haze of a half-felt, half-forgotten dream state in which I am trying desperately to run from you.

And run from you – in the living, breathing, wide awake world – is precisely and thankfully what I did.

When I first left you, I knew I was doing the right thing – and had known it for some time and had even warned you that it was in my mind to do so – but leaving you still devastated me in those first days.  I had come to surrender so completely to your standards that you had set about for and to the control that you exerted over every single thing that I did – my workload and every penny I earned, my habits and behavior in every room of the house and in every aspect of public and private life, my appearance, my diet, every ounce of creativity and energy (save for the ones that I squirreled away in hidden journals and notebooks).  I honestly wasn’t entirely sure I could live out in the world, outside of the container of your large and looming shadow.

I know now that this was precisely the feeling – my crippling self-doubt – that you knowingly assisted in taking root in my mind, and the very one you spent seven long years grooming and cultivating with the hope of shaping me into the submissive flower who wanted nothing more than to set aside her every desire, dream and longing in selfless service of yours.

There were many tools for this grotesque gardening in your arsenal – the intimidation, the bullying, the withholding of praise and affection, the endless list of rules, the emotional and psychological abuse.

Thank goodness I found the strength to leave.

And then on Friday morning at the fair, as I stood by my car with Shawn and the rest of my band mates, enjoying their company and my fresh falafel in the open air of this incredible season, I happened to look just twenty feet or so to my right and there you were, staring at me with a hatred so cold and so complete that it literally took my breath away.

My reaction?  Just as I’d feared – heart racing, sweating palms, the whole bit; I’m ashamed to admit it. The guys even noticed that something had happened.

“Are you okay?”

I was worried for a moment that I wouldn’t be able to get on that stage and perform with any joy, that instead I’d be peering out into the crowd, worried that you were still watching, glaring, hating.

And then… as I looked back at you, the moment passed, and I felt myself feel stronger, and as I took a few steps back, you slithered away into the crowd.  It was much like watching a storm drifting away across the open sea.  I looked around me, at people whom I love, who love and respect me, and I took a deep breath.  I finished my lunch, got on stage with Shawn, Davy and Craig and I looked out, not for you, but instead at the crowd of music lovers and fair goers, all listening, smiling, tapping their booted feet, patting their hands on their knees, singing along.

Sure, I’ll admit that your shadow still casts over my mind at times.  I’m still healing.  But now, as I type these words, I don’t feel the anxiety that still, amazingly, lives in me somewhere and that your presence can still summon.  Now, I feel pity.  Not pity for you because I left you, but pity because you’ll likely never know how it feels to be as happy as I feel now, out here under the blue sky, under the gaze of those who love and respect me and of the impossibly warm and comforting sun.   That inability is not mine to own – it’s yours.  You were unhappy before I left, before we met – and I do hope that, for your sake, you find a little bit of that sunshine before it sets on you.

Saturday Morning Musings – My one wild and precious life

Tags

domestic abuse, emotional abuse, Heather Pierson, life, love, Mary Oliver, moving on, music, Saturday Morning Musings, The Summer Day, travel, traveling

In the last two lines of her poem “The Summer Day”, Mary Oliver poses an incredibly haunting question:

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do / with your one wild and precious life?”

My first encounter with these words came several years ago, during a time that now seems like an entirely different life, like an old acquaintance, someone I used to know.

And I suppose it was.

I was living in Fryeburg, Maine, working four part time jobs. (Yes, four.)  I was playing music while wearing one of those many hats, but my true talents of performing and songwriting were lying almost entirely dormant.

Why?

Well, that’s a long sad story, but I will give you a condensed version:

For the several years that I lived in Fryeburg, I was in an increasingly harmful relationship with a deeply controlling and manipulative man. Did he beat me? No – the bruising that I endured was much more insidious.  He didn’t attack my body.  He attacked my mind – my self-worth, my self-esteem, my humanity.

That’s the worst kind of abuse.

So, when I first heard Mary Oliver’s question, its salience stunned me; it immediately brought tears to my eyes. It seemed to underscore everything of importance and meaning in my life. This wise woman, this gifted poet, was offering me a way out.

Sadly, it would take me a few more years before I would be able to answer Mary’s question with any sort of confidence.

But that question stayed with me, hung over me, tugged at the corners of the veil.

Finally in February 2010, after encouragement from and with the help of very dear friends, I broke free and reclaimed my life.  There are some deep wounds that are still healing, and patience has never been my strong suit.  But, just like with any serious physical injury, the millimetric movement towards wholeness of spirit will take time.

It is still taking time.

In the three years since, I have come to know and experience the fullness of love, joy, exciting uncertainty, respect, adventure, discovery – all the best qualities of a life fully lived.

As I type these words, I am also preparing to leave for a conference in Rhode Island, where I will be one of ten performers (out of a juried pool of seventy) in front of an audience of fellow songwriters and musicians, venue operators, radio DJs and other music biz folks.  What an awesome opportunity this is!  I am also reflecting on three years of so many amazing experiences that have found me making so many new friends, creating an entire catalog of new music and forging incredible new bonds; meeting and falling in love with my best friend and traveling to nearly every corner of the U.S. with him and sharing my music and myself on concert stages, in coffeehouses, at open stages, in people’s homes; seeing the Grand Canyon at sunset and the midwestern plains at sunrise; hearing the thump and roar of a second line in New Orleans and the hustle and bustle of downtown Chicago; smelling the Pacific Ocean in San Diego and fresh tortillas in the New Mexico desert.  And in addition to all of that – actually making a living with this sort of life!  If a messenger from the future had visited my former self in Fryeburg – the timid, depressed, downtrodden one – and told me what awaited me in my life these past three years, I wouldn’t have believed a word of it.

And here I am today!  With so many reasons to smile!

So, with my one wild and precious life, I intend to continue living in full pursuit of my dreams – to share my love of music and of life with as many people as I can, and to experience this planet as fully as I can until I can no longer.

And how about you?