Tied

Why don’t I leave?…. That’s a hard question to ask someone who embraces pain and surrounds herself with it. Someone who frequently raises the “pain is part of life” card. Someone who chooses to remember the good that was instead of seeing it for what it really was. A facade.

When we got together, Mike was something else. Charming words lured me in. His possessive nature assured me I had a place I belonged and was wanted. You don’t get that place a lot. A place where you can now comfortably post, “home is not a place but a person” because you can finally relate. A place where you feel there will no longer be vodka and band-aids for your broken heart. He was the fresh beginning I was waiting for. I was hooked to him.

And I told him. Those stupid quotes people classify as “puppy love”, they were gold to me. All words I could use for him to understand he meant the world to me, I said. I’d cry on a phone call as I confessed how weak my knees had become when I imagined a future without him. You are my drug. My happiness. You are my Kismet. I’d follow you to hell. You have my soul, my….

No one tells you that’s wrong. No one tells you that you don’t have to love that hard. No one says it is sin to neglect yourself completely to prove your love. No one says any addiction is wrong. If anyone sat me down, maybe I would have known. Or would love and my promises have blinded me? Would I have turned them away? Would I have turned those books written by feminists for weak-spined women like me away? Should my mother have told me?

See, one thing about toxic relationships is that it is all heaven at first. There’s laughter, constant reassurance of love, dates and walks under moonlights, pointing out galaxies and discussing greek mythologies. Or were we the only ones talking about Medusa and Poseidon. Goodness! I ever called him Poseidon. I admired Poseidon. His aquatic beauty and the strength in the murals and marble carvings of him.

I call it the grace period. Where I saw only the front Mike wanted me to see. How long was it before I saw this other side? The manipulative side waiting to see my vulnerabilities. It started slow of course. Letting me in completely before closing that box. He’d say something negative and I would be dumbstruck by the underlying cruelty in his words. It would affect me so much. But I never thought I needed to walk away. So I’d will him to apologize and never to repeat that again.

Bingo for him. Right? I was doing nothing to assert my strength and independence and value. He could push my buttons further then. I was still tolerant. He was the right man for me you see. I had given him everything I had. My whole heart, I had acquiesced it so easily, an organ ancient kingdoms had gone to war for, I had given it like a useless cloth. I didn’t think it then. So I went on pouring my endless love, accepting him as he was because we’re all imperfect. I am imperfect too. And you can’t let go of people because of just a little imperfection.

So I let Mike be Mike. The Mike he had shown me before and the Mike he no longer cared to hide. The Mike who wouldn’t hear my, “No! No! No! Don’t do this” and would go on sweating above me like I was okay. Like it was okay for him to hurt me that way. Like it was okay to break my heart a little more than he had done yesterday. Like the physical wounds he inflicted meant nothing.

And I let him. Foolish me! I let a man take away my voice, my spine, my smile. I let a man dictate what was right for me and what was wrong. I let a man hurt me when he thought what I was doing was wrong.
Was it though? Having your voice, is that wrong though? Trying to stand up for yourself, is that wrong? How much was I supposed to submit? Where’s he, the one that wrote that wife was to submit to husband. How far am I to bend sir? Tell me. How many pieces does he(husband) want my spine in?

But even when I felt he wasn’t supposed to, I let him. He had been my heaven. The loopholes didn’t change that. He was my lord above all. And he was free to exercise his authority. I kissed his feet to appease him. Called myself the vile names he wanted drawn from my lips. And I still promised not to leave.

People tell you to do that. Up and leave. Leave your bags actually. Just up and leave. I can’t! I’m sorry. I’m sorry to every woman trying to build us up. I’m walking towards the opposite direction, towards fire and brimstone. Goodness! I’m stuck at when he bought me flowers and chocolate. When he was my Poseidon.
I leave him, I’m nothing. I’m nothing now, he says so. But I’ll be less than nothing if I leave. Love weakens me.
Disillusionment weakens me.

Fear weakens me.
Weakness beholds me.
Forgive me everyone.
I’ve built a bond with his belt.
With it’s pain comes the only feeling I can get from him.