Easy to Leave

I'm easy to leave.

My husband and I met at the therapist’s office while he was on his “business trip” to discuss the pending state of our marriage and family. It remained clear that he didn’t want to make any decisions. He didn’t want a divorce but he didn’t think he could leave his girlfriend. He didn’t want to hurt her. His family – the collateral damage = he literally could not see that he was doing this to anyone but me. He had not done anything to his children.

During subsequent visits to the therapist’s office, in addition to the now infamous phrase, “I want to want my family”, another one resonates with me … easy to leave.

That’s me.

He couldn’t hurt his girlfriend. She needed him. Never mind that she had her own husband and family. She needed him.

Me … his tough as nails wife. The mother of his children. The woman he knew as a survivor. The woman he thought of as “perfect” – literally. After all, he proclaimed to still love me. I could handle this. Even through my tears, he knew I’d be fine. I was always okay. The therapist asked him, “so A is easy to leave?” and he said, “I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way.” But his answer in a quiet whisper, "yes." And then, "it's sad to say that."

My father walked out on my family – my mom and my brother, when I was 5 years old. I don’t remember a lot about him except that they fought a lot. They had an on and off again relationship. Being raised Jehovah’s Witness, when he left, I was then taught that he was tantamount to the Devil himself so I feared anything that represented him. I was told that someday he would come back and try to kidnap me from my mother, which would then interfere with my eternal life in their Paradise they had been proselytizing about since their very existence (they're still waiting, by the way.) He actually did come back one day, when I was in 2^nd grade. I ran into my house screaming, shaking, and frantically tried to call my mom at work but kept getting a busy signal. I was terrified that I was going to die.

I met my father a couple years back for the first time. He didn’t look like the Devil at all. I still haven’t asked why he left. I figured the explanation in my head is as good as any he could tell me. Also, as a general rule, I don't ask people why. It just gives them an excuse to lie to you. He has another daughter that just graduated high school and had he stuck around for me, she wouldn’t exist and I kind of like her. She’s a sweetheart. And I like me, just the way I am, so we’re all good.

The January after I graduated from high school, I moved out of my mother’s home into a tiny one-bedroom apartment. The fall before, I had been “disfellowshipped” from the family religion for having an inappropriate relationship with a worldly boy (translation=I had sex) and even at home, my parents would barely speak to me unless it was “can I have your car insurance money?” Not being allowed to even share meals together, according to their religious convictions, they couldn’t even ask me to “pass the salt”.

I was working full time at a cellular phone company and I had a car, and enough money for an apartment. When I moved out, I had a twin sized bed, a blue wing back chair and a small black ceramic cat. Oh, and my clothes. I made a trip to Walmart to buy some “stuff” – towels, plates, toilet paper. And I was on my own.

Since that date in January 1993, I can count the number of times that I have spoken to my mother on one hand. I have seen her twice – once at McDonald’s, another time to introduce her to my husband and children. She made it clear that day that I was not welcome to return to her home, only my children and husband were. They declined. 

Easy to leave … that’s me.

How about you? What unconventional things are you known for?