Our very last of "The Talks" happened on New Year's Eve 2010. Instead of having a panic attack that time, it was the time that I told to myself that I was going to trying everything that I could do to make us work because it was going to be the last time. I took that vow as Dale spewed out the same words as in all of the other talks. I did speak up enough to tell him, when he got to the part that maybe we didn't belong together and that perhaps a divorce is inevitable, that if I ever said those words to him, they weren't going to be an empty threat. If I said them, I was going to mean them.
I have no regrets about the things that I did that January and February. I initiated, I stepped outside of my boundary lines, I gave it my all. I have no regrets because had I not done what I had, I may have been left with the "what if?" questions. There were none. I had given my all to my marriage without doubt and I knew deep in my heart that I had nothing left to give. I was not the one for Dale, and he was not the one for me.
Less then 50 days after our final talk, I broke. We were visiting my family over winter break, just like I am on right now. It was the middle of the night and our son woke up. I got up to comfort him. Dale walked in and told me that he'd take over. Sounds like a kind, caring, and loving act. That was the straw that broke my camel's back. I wanted to be with my son that night. I needed to be with him. Dale insisted that I go back to bed. But I didn't sleep. That is the moment that I woke up. For the first time in years, I was awake. My eyes were open and I couldn't pretend anymore.
I was in an abusive relationship. I was in an abusive relationship. It wasn't about the depression. It wasn't about Dale's illness. It was about the way that Dale treated me. The way that I had been treated for years, and I couldn't do it anymore.
The evening that I awoke was the night that Dale and I were supposed to double-date with my best friend and her husband. Because we had dinner the night before at my sister's house, he felt that he had done his part and didn't need to take part on this double-date. My friend's husband didn't go as a result and that left me and my best friend for 20 years to have "the dinner" of all dinners.
She came to pick me up and we drove but just a few blocks before I had to say, "I am in an abusive relationship." She immediately broke into tears because deep down, she had suspected and feared that. I was never willing or ready to entertain that notion, ever. Not until then. Not until I knew for sure and I did. There was no turning back from that moment.
I believe that it was exactly five years ago today, February 19th, that Dale and I arrived back home in New York City after a very tense and quiet drive back from my parent's house. When arrived home, that is when I told him that I couldn't take it anymore. Our relationship was toxic.
Over the course of the past few years, Dale had progressively got more hostile, angry, and resentful towards me. It seemed too energetic for it to be his depression, although I knew he still suffered. I had always viewed him as a man, who had an illness. I saw him first, not the illness, but the illness was always there and I knew it. However, I didn't blame the illness for the way that Dale was treating me. I blamed the person. After all, he was a person. I just didn't know how deeply he was consumed by his illness. I didn't think it was going to be easy or pretty, but he had told me himself so many times that perhaps we didn't belong together. It shouldn't have been so shocking and I certainly didn't think that telling him that I had enough, was going to cause him to unravel. But it did.
I have no regrets about the things that I did that January and February. I initiated, I stepped outside of my boundary lines, I gave it my all. I have no regrets because had I not done what I had, I may have been left with the "what if?" questions. There were none. I had given my all to my marriage without doubt and I knew deep in my heart that I had nothing left to give. I was not the one for Dale, and he was not the one for me.
Less then 50 days after our final talk, I broke. We were visiting my family over winter break, just like I am on right now. It was the middle of the night and our son woke up. I got up to comfort him. Dale walked in and told me that he'd take over. Sounds like a kind, caring, and loving act. That was the straw that broke my camel's back. I wanted to be with my son that night. I needed to be with him. Dale insisted that I go back to bed. But I didn't sleep. That is the moment that I woke up. For the first time in years, I was awake. My eyes were open and I couldn't pretend anymore.
I was in an abusive relationship. I was in an abusive relationship. It wasn't about the depression. It wasn't about Dale's illness. It was about the way that Dale treated me. The way that I had been treated for years, and I couldn't do it anymore.
The evening that I awoke was the night that Dale and I were supposed to double-date with my best friend and her husband. Because we had dinner the night before at my sister's house, he felt that he had done his part and didn't need to take part on this double-date. My friend's husband didn't go as a result and that left me and my best friend for 20 years to have "the dinner" of all dinners.
She came to pick me up and we drove but just a few blocks before I had to say, "I am in an abusive relationship." She immediately broke into tears because deep down, she had suspected and feared that. I was never willing or ready to entertain that notion, ever. Not until then. Not until I knew for sure and I did. There was no turning back from that moment.
I believe that it was exactly five years ago today, February 19th, that Dale and I arrived back home in New York City after a very tense and quiet drive back from my parent's house. When arrived home, that is when I told him that I couldn't take it anymore. Our relationship was toxic.
Over the course of the past few years, Dale had progressively got more hostile, angry, and resentful towards me. It seemed too energetic for it to be his depression, although I knew he still suffered. I had always viewed him as a man, who had an illness. I saw him first, not the illness, but the illness was always there and I knew it. However, I didn't blame the illness for the way that Dale was treating me. I blamed the person. After all, he was a person. I just didn't know how deeply he was consumed by his illness. I didn't think it was going to be easy or pretty, but he had told me himself so many times that perhaps we didn't belong together. It shouldn't have been so shocking and I certainly didn't think that telling him that I had enough, was going to cause him to unravel. But it did.
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