The Day I Decided to Walk Away.....Really Walk Away

  
     In mid October, as I laid in my bed crying myself to sleep some ten years after separating from the man that I married, I realized that in order to be free of him and the pain associated with him I had to walk away; walk as far away as possible.   I thought I did that ten years ago, but evidently not living in the same house anymore was not far enough away.  Previously that day I had been in Court for what seemed like a never ending battle, despite being divorced for 8 years.  As I sat there I could not believe that ten years after separating from my ex-husband I was still being faced with the lies and the vengeance of a man that struggles with mental illness.  I played over and over in my head the words that he spewed at me over ten years ago, "My mom rejected me, my dad rejected me, if you ever think I will let you reject me.  I will ruin you".  He has tried with great effort and deceit to do just that; ruin me.      

     When I first entered into the Court system I had faith that justice would be served, and that it would recognize that this divorce was much more then the typical "ugly" split up.  I had no idea that the Court was ignorant to the signs of mental illness.  At the time it seemed so obvious to me, and it was obvious to the many doctors that were involved with our family.  Maybe I expected too much as after all that while mental illness may be the face of the homeless person that wanders the streets, it can also be the not so obvious face of the charming, intelligent and seemingly successful person that you fell in love with.   As a person who struggles with mental illness can often present well for a short period of time, unless you live with mental illness, it can be a face that you do not recognize.  Part of me understood the Court's ignorance as time and time again I asked myself how could I not have seen the signs earlier, but mental illness can lay dormant for years waiting to rear it's ugly head and with effort it can be covered up.  Like a tiger, when it decides to pounce it shreds your life as you knew it and if you are unable to get away you can be destroyed by it.

     While at the time I felt like I was alone in trying to survive breaking free from the wrath of mental illness, I have come to over the years meet many others who have walked in my shoes.  While many talk about their battles to survive physical illness, mental illness is still very much a disease that is not commonly talked about.  Perhaps out of fear of being judged, for those that struggle with it.  Perhaps out of fear of not being believed and understood, for those that have lived with someone that is plagued with it.  
     While I was blessed to have many people who loved and supported me through what has turned out to be a battle for my life, I think that unless you live it you don't truly understand it.  This battle leaves you feeling broken.  Like Elizabeth Gilbert I had my moment on the bathroom floor sobbing, but I also found myself sobbing on the couch, cleaning the house, driving and as I recall most nights for two years as I tried to fall asleep.  In order to survive the anguish at some point you have to decide that you are no longer going to be a broken person.  The Elizabeth Gilbert moments have to stop.  Luckily that day came for me.  The day that I looked at myself in the mirror and said, "I am going to reclaim my life.  I am going to start living again.  I deserve peace and happiness in my life again.  I am no longer going to allow someone else, or their actions, to control my life".  While tragically I am sure that not everyone experiences this moment, and many remain broken for the rest of their lives, for me that decision was made the night of October 20, 2010.  Some may ask why it took so long for me to decide to break free from the insanity, but when you have children breaking free from their father is not an easy task.   In many ways your children bind you together.  It is only when they get older, and they live their own lives and make their own decisions, that you can start living your own life again.  While I could recount all the pain that I went through,  I am leaving that behind.  I refuse to be broken for even one more day.  Instead, this is the story of me taking back my life and choosing to truly live again.

     The world is a big place if one is faced with deciding where to begin living again.  I toyed back and forth between Italy and Africa.  Italy is a beautiful country that I have travelled to before.  It is a country where I have very much felt as home in and a country where I have experienced great joy.  I also contemplated Africa as I have had a desire to for many years work with the children there.  I also considered Africa because I want to sit on the peak of Mt. Kilimanjaro and look out at all that the world has to offer.  While it has felt like I have climbed many mountains in life, to actually climb one and look out at the vast beautiful land below would for me be symbolic of all the beauty that life has still to offer and the perseverance that it sometimes takes to experience this beauty.

     I have chosen Italy to begin the rest of my life as I have spent most of my life giving to others personally and professionally, and I am feeling that before I am able to truly give to the children of Africa I have to take time to give to myself.  What better place to do that then in Italy?  A country that offers beauty, wonderful people and delicious food and wine.  It is a country that you can easy indulge in so many things, and frankly I need a little indulging.  After I give to myself I will have more to offer the children of Africa.  Better that I embark upon them with joy in my heart and on my face, as they have fought so many of their own battles that they do not need to look at the scars of mine on my face.  

     So, I did it with greater ease then expected.  I booked my flight to Italy.  While some were taken back with great surprise by this decision, those that have held my hand through my journey celebrated this decision with me.  They understood that this was not running away from life, but instead running to life.