Painting
One Saturday afternoon I wanted to buy paint. I wanted to paint our new apartment for our new baby. I wanted to make it ours, I wanted to make it a home.
For some reason the paint became an issue. Either money, or time, or not having a vehicle, I don’t remember. But, what I do remember was that I had taken a stand. I had brought up some serious issues I was having, I said I wasn’t happy, I said I was tired of living this way, tired of him controlling all the money all the time, etc.
His response, I remember as clearly as if it happened yesterday, was: “If you think you’re going to ever leave me you have another thing coming. If you even THINK about leaving me you’ll NEVER see your son again! I’ll make sure of it! Am I being clear? Is there something you’re not understanding?!”
I was terrified. I somehow believed that was possible. I was young and naive. I had no idea how things actually worked. I just imagined him taking my son and leaving me….totally alone. what kind of person would launch from arguing about paint to threatening to take my son? I was so cofused and scared. I’d later learn that this kind of behavior was intended to keep me on my toes. To keep me not knowing what to expect next. To keep me doubting myself and everything I thought I knew about how people should treat each other.
Needless to say the walls never got painted and it was a LONG time before I ever dared to talk about how I was feeling.
Looking Forward 