At 14, all I wanted was to be married to the boy across the street. He was going to save me from life with my bipolar mother.
At 17, we were married. Life was sure to change for the better. This was the answer.
At 18, I was angry. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, and I was restricted to either work or home. I had one friend he approved of.
At 19, we separated so he could find himself. He was 22 by then and had been with me five years already. He wanted to explore other relationships. Three months later, we were back together – not by my choice – I had been enjoying my new freedom. But he had seen the error of this ways. Mother intervened, and parental pressure won out again.
At 20, I was pregnant. Having a child would fix our marriage – I was sure of it.
At 21, I was fantasizing his sudden death so I could be free of him and grow into the strong, independent woman I was meant to be.
Not long after, I found myself single parenting our 15-month-old twin daughters. No, he didn’t die. But I grew some courage and stood up for myself. He was finally willing to let go for good.
It wasn’t easy, but we all made it through the emotional and financial struggles…as much as one can when living moment by moment.
Today my daughters are grown with babies of their own. I am happily single, in a home I own, doing the things I could only dream of way back then. There were many detours along the way, but I got here.
Dreams do come true.
