LJ Idol: Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here
It's easy to say that I should have seen it coming. Looking back now, the signs were clear. But you know what they say about hindsight.
Sometimes I still beat myself up a little, for having been a smart woman who was too dumb to see the red flags and the warning lights. But cultural conditioning can make you believe just about anything can be made OK, if you just work hard enough. Add in the bullshit narrative about love conquering all that we are spoon-fed from the time we're old enough to listen to a story or follow a TV show or movie, and, well...you've got a toxic cocktail of denial that will numb you just enough to keep you complacent, to keep you in places that were you in your right mind you would have avoided or fled.
Oh yes, there were signs. I can see them now, clear as day, flashing out a warning that I was headed into dangerous territory.
MIND THE GAP. The gap between the story he was telling me and the truth of the matter. The gap between what we needed to cover our bills each month and what was actually in the bank account. The gap between the life he promised me and the one were were living.
SLIPPERY WHEN WET. More like slippery when cornerned -- the way he could keep track of his lies, could always elude my attempts to ferret out the truth. Slippery like always being one step ahead of me when I started to scent the trail.
ROUGH SURFACE AHEAD. This one popped up when he didn't get his way, when he was denied something he wanted, when anything didn't go exactly as he wanted. Things were about to get very rough for me then -- the guilt, the yelling, the insults, the gaslighting. Time to buckle up.
NO PASSING ZONE. I had a place and I would be expected to stay in it. Any hint that I'd earn more than him, achieve more than him, do more than him, have more than him and I'd be knocked back on my heels.
WATCH FOR FALLING ROCKS. All the times when something would come out of no where and knock me flat. Phone calls from jail. Overdraft notices. A dark house because the electricity had been disconnected for nonpayment. Eviction papers on my door.
WATCH FOR WATER ON ROAD. Every time I waded not knowing how deep things were, not knowing how quickly I would be over my head. Stepping into what I thought was a mud puddle only to be carried away on a current of lies, half-truths, obfuscations. Knowing I was drowning and that there was no way to save myself.
Really? It would have all been better for everyone if he'd just come with one big sign: ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE. At least then I'd have known exactly what I was getting into, even if I was still stupid enough to keep venturing forward. And let's face it, I would have, because who doesn't secretly believe that if they're brave enough to enter the pirate's lair, they'll come away with the treasure chest? Who really ever abandons hope, especially when hope is the only thing that we have? We cling to hope long after it's clear that the thing we hope for is never to be within our grasp, was never even a real thing, was always an illusion.
But he didn't come with a warning sign. I didn't see the posted caution signs along the road until I was so far down it that I was no longer sure where I was, and I wasn't at all confident in my ability to find my way home again.
I'm just glad I finally saw the sign marked EXIT.
Sometimes I still beat myself up a little, for having been a smart woman who was too dumb to see the red flags and the warning lights. But cultural conditioning can make you believe just about anything can be made OK, if you just work hard enough. Add in the bullshit narrative about love conquering all that we are spoon-fed from the time we're old enough to listen to a story or follow a TV show or movie, and, well...you've got a toxic cocktail of denial that will numb you just enough to keep you complacent, to keep you in places that were you in your right mind you would have avoided or fled.
Oh yes, there were signs. I can see them now, clear as day, flashing out a warning that I was headed into dangerous territory.
MIND THE GAP. The gap between the story he was telling me and the truth of the matter. The gap between what we needed to cover our bills each month and what was actually in the bank account. The gap between the life he promised me and the one were were living.
SLIPPERY WHEN WET. More like slippery when cornerned -- the way he could keep track of his lies, could always elude my attempts to ferret out the truth. Slippery like always being one step ahead of me when I started to scent the trail.
ROUGH SURFACE AHEAD. This one popped up when he didn't get his way, when he was denied something he wanted, when anything didn't go exactly as he wanted. Things were about to get very rough for me then -- the guilt, the yelling, the insults, the gaslighting. Time to buckle up.
NO PASSING ZONE. I had a place and I would be expected to stay in it. Any hint that I'd earn more than him, achieve more than him, do more than him, have more than him and I'd be knocked back on my heels.
WATCH FOR FALLING ROCKS. All the times when something would come out of no where and knock me flat. Phone calls from jail. Overdraft notices. A dark house because the electricity had been disconnected for nonpayment. Eviction papers on my door.
WATCH FOR WATER ON ROAD. Every time I waded not knowing how deep things were, not knowing how quickly I would be over my head. Stepping into what I thought was a mud puddle only to be carried away on a current of lies, half-truths, obfuscations. Knowing I was drowning and that there was no way to save myself.
Really? It would have all been better for everyone if he'd just come with one big sign: ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE. At least then I'd have known exactly what I was getting into, even if I was still stupid enough to keep venturing forward. And let's face it, I would have, because who doesn't secretly believe that if they're brave enough to enter the pirate's lair, they'll come away with the treasure chest? Who really ever abandons hope, especially when hope is the only thing that we have? We cling to hope long after it's clear that the thing we hope for is never to be within our grasp, was never even a real thing, was always an illusion.
But he didn't come with a warning sign. I didn't see the posted caution signs along the road until I was so far down it that I was no longer sure where I was, and I wasn't at all confident in my ability to find my way home again.
I'm just glad I finally saw the sign marked EXIT.