I discovered him by accident. I tagged a mutual friend in a social media post. The status about a volunteer cause received the little heart emoji from someone I did not know. Curiosity and an endearing profile photo of an attractive man and his daughter got the best of me. A few clicks later and we were in conversation about how we can help advance the cause.
The social media platform revealed that we had several mutual friends and more than one cause in common. Our outreach brought us together one winter morning. “Hey, I think you know ________” a fellow volunteer said to me after a presentation. I looked over to find a charming man extending his hand. It didn’t register immediately, but when I realized who I was being introduced to, I was aglow. For all of the criticisms of social media, it sure does have a way of making people feel like life-long friends, even if meeting for the first time in real life.
Looking back on the pictures from that day, I notice how I had liberally applied brightening shimmer concealer around my eyes. The swelling was still apparent. I had cried a thousand tears late into the night, despite the early wakeup required to make the lengthy drive to attend the presentation.
I had sustained emotional wounds from my husband’s humiliating and cruel words and erratic behavior. The increasingly common outbursts had the uncanny timing of surfacing around scheduled advocacy events.
The conversations and organizing continued with the man of my dreams. The months crawled along with my husband and the emotional abuse. I did not realize how much stress I was holding inside and undesirable behavior that I was pretending to not exist.
I was finding satisfaction and joy in my advocacy and with the incredibly motivated, positive and inspiring people with whom I was associating. I was attracting the type of people that I admired and wanted to be around. I had mentors that were willing to invest time on me.
At home, my soul was being crushed. I knew that I was on the right path in life. I was finally overcoming self-imposed obstacles and perceived limitations. I was finding my footing and leading a life of purpose. I was doing the right things. I was doing a small part to make a difference and he had a knack for causing me to second guess myself.
A gradual realization came to light. A gray cloud started lifting. I was seeing my domestic insecurity and resulting illness more objectively. I began putting together the puzzle pieces. I began to awaken from a dysfunctional, codependent relationship with a person who had barely survived a long-term struggle with an alcohol disorder.
I had been driving myself crazy. I knew he had to still be drinking. Every night, after he went to sleep, I would check the house for his stash. He was staying one step ahead of me and treating me like I was ridiculous for asking him if he had been drinking again. Despite his slurring speech, detachment, stumbling, broodiness, passing out, sleep walking and bizarre obsessive thoughts and aggression; I had been accepting his denials.
Driving home one evening, it came to me while thinking through his suspicious evening routine. The laundry room…it’s in the laundry room! Sure enough, in the ceiling of the laundry room, I found a bottle of vodka.
I wasn’t crazy, after all! Well, in a way, I had been. I had been crazy in denial. Crazy from lying to myself and making excuses for him for so long. How long? How long had I been in denial? Dear, Jesus… Years.
I promised myself and silently made the promise to our child, “no more.” I will no longer be in denial. I will no longer be co-dependent. I told him, “No more. You will stop drinking or leave.” I meant it this time and he knew it.
What happened that opened my eyes and gave me the courage to mean it?
I met the man of my dreams. Never have any moral lines crossed, but I befriended a man that set the standard to which I will hold all other men. I will demand the kindness, civility, polite manners, good humor, and respect that he has shown to me, from all who cross my path.
Thank you and may you find and forge a life with the woman of your dreams.
Update: My marriage may not be salvageable, but my self-respect is, and that is the real point of this essay.