Turning Lead into Gold

Over the past 11 years I have felt the push and pull between justifying and making excuses for all the bad behavior and knowing I need to leave. And then it occurred to me, “I’m no different than Cheyne.”

In that moment of understanding I can feel my heart softening toward my drug addicted brother-my best friend and soulmate since we were kids but over time have grown distant due to his addiction. 

How many times can someone get clean and relapse? When will he learn? When will he get the discipline and strength? I shut my heart off to my younger brother, tired of seeing him hurt himself. But in this moment of clarity, I suddenly understand and empathize with my sweet precious brother. The same brother who answered my call and was there to pick up the pieces every time I called crying. The same brother who never judged me every time I went back to the person who was hurting me. I can see now how not only my brother, but my whole family has been there to pick up the pieces every time I was betrayed and left  but decided to “give it one more try” –and how the patterns in the brain when involved in a toxic relationship are very similar to drug addiction.

I learned that it takes an average of 8-10 times to try to leave an abusive relationship. They say it is very similar to quitting heroin. So, am I really that different from Cheyne? I think we are more alike than we are different. 

Getting the strength to walk away from a toxic relationship feels alot like waking up from a coma or being under a spell. 

I ask myself, “Have I dissociated for 11 years? Where have I been? Has it really been that bad? Am I the problem? Am I being dramatic? Have I really been abused like my family says?” 

I don’t know the answer to any of those questions yet. But if I reframe my thoughts and ask, “Is it healthy for me? Is it toxic regardless? Is my pain real? Have I been suffering?” Now the answers are very clear. 

I’ll be really really honest; It hurts. But  I’m also the most okay I’ve ever been in my whole life. It feels like all the stars have aligned to point me to this very moment in time. So many signs, so many symbols are being sent to reassure me that I’m on the right path and to keep moving forward. It seems like all the work I did these past 4 years of building up a healthy masculine energy in myself was all for this moment in time-To be my own support, my own protection, my own grounding and stability-To keep me mentally and physically strong enough to have the strength to finally walk away.

The adult side of me is okay. She has learned her lessons. She has reparented herself. She has built herself up and became the supportive mother and father she always needed. She is thankful for the lessons and the opportunity to grow. She wants to leave with love, understanding, compassion and grace. 

 The child in me wants to scream. The child wants to throw a tantrum. “Does anyone see me? Does anyone care? It’s not fair!”

Even though I know my life is just beginning, it doesn’t stop the pain from my former  world falling apart. The days all seem to melt into each other. Some days I look down and realize I’ve been wearing the same shirt for days and I can’t remember if I’ve showered. My kids are talking to me but I don’t hear a thing. One minute I’m dancing, the next I’m grieving. 

It can feel very isolating, especially when all the people you thought you made “friends” with are also friends with the one who hurt you. Who is there to turn to? Who will understand?

 When there is no one to turn to- I turn to my pen and paper, or in this case my keyboard and I bleed on the pages. My vulnerability is my strength, my vulnerability is my power. My ability to express my innermost thoughts and feelings through writing is my alchemy. I will turn lead into gold.