On My Own

Three years ago, alone and living in Mississippi. Did I mention alone? Well, I wasn't completely alone, I had my dog. I was 26 and had been down every avenue possible. I had come to the fork in the road, confused about what direction to go next. I wondered what I was doing with my life. I had no direction. All of my friends were married, successful and seemed to have everything in order. I felt like a black sheep, a loner. I worked in medical records, it was a job, you know? It paid the bills but I loathed it. Day by day, working, living and breathing. What's my purpose?

Then, he came into my life. He lived in Baton Rouge and for a moment I was smitten. Of course, a convicted felon could have swept me off of my feet at this point. Yearning for love, confirmation, butterflies and a prince- I fell. I had fallen and couldn't get up, for love. I was never really sure if it was love or the idea of love. I would have taken either one.

The days started to melt into one another. We were inseparable. What is lust, like, love? Who really cares. It was what it was. I was just glad it was something. He came with a huge red flag but my vivid imagination turned it into a white one. I was color blind. Blinded by my own loneliness. I jumped in head first which would eventually lead to a massive headache. For two months, I was wined and dined. Two months, on top of the world- riding on cloud 9. There was no way I was coming down from this stimulating high. I got pregnant and fell flat on my face.

Terrified. He was scared. I was scared. We started to go through the motions. We tried to get to know one another as the mood swings came and went. You know, the hormones. Trying to live up to his expectations, I continued to fail. It was a mess. Don't you work it out for the child? What seemed to be a perfect match slowly turned into a match from hell. The pressures of life, the bills, the hormones, the baby.....day by day, took it's toll.

We both drowned in our own silent misery. Neither speaking to the other, giving the lack of communication more power. And then came the baby. It should have been the most joyous moment ever but it wasn't. The conflictual relationship had dampened the excitement. Fear came with the birth and continued to rape both of us. We left the hospital to continue our damaging journey, because it was damaged and it continued to damage- both of us.

I loved him but I hated him. I never doubted that he was the one for me. Funny, right? Even though I could barely stand looking at him, I loved him. As much as we tortured one another, I never thought it would come to and end. Relationships are hard, right? I never was the girl who believed in a fairy tale. I stuck to brutal reality. This was my reality. My family. Because this is all I ever wanted, a family- my own.

We started counseling because well, that's just what couples do. The sun started to look brighter, the days were more enjoyable and I could breathe. It was helping. Two lost people with baggage fighting to breathe in life, trying to love one another. It was hard. It was life. Someone turned on the light at the end of the tunnel. I could see it. Hope. Future. My family. Then tragedy.

No, he didn't die. However, I did rush him to the hospital. Doc said it was his second bile obstruction. He's 31. Weird. Our damaged journey that came to a complete stop, we were on it again. For an entire month, he was in the hospital. I juggled taking care of him and our son, with the help of his overbearing mother who said it wasn't enough. I did the best I could. No one will ever be good enough for your son. No, he didn't die ...completely. The person that I knew, loved and hated all at once did die, returning from the hospital was a completely different man.

It was over. "Life's too short", he says. He never wanted the married life. He wanted to scope girls, bar hop and travel. You're 31, get over it already. Life's too short. He said it was over and to find somewhere else to live. So devastated. So torn. I stuck by his side day in and out while he cheated death only to be turned away when it was over. Devastation.

Where would I go? What about our son? What about me? What about us? Doesn't matter. What about how we were moving forward and things were....better? Doesn't matter. Life is too short. Life is too short to continue working on our family. It's too short to make sure our son grows up in a happy home with both of his parents. Cop out. No respect. No more love. Feels like genuine hate and resentment.

I was alone again. Did I mention alone? Well, I had my dog and my son. It was different this time. It was a good alone. For the first time in my life, I felt peace. No need. Some reason, I felt empowered. I gathered my belongings and headed out and never looked back, I had no choice. There goes my family. I always wanted a family, you know? Not the fairy tale, not the white picket fence..just a family.

For the first time in my life, I found my way. It took going through hell to find some sort of balance. I finished up my bachelor's. I found real estate. I found that being a mommy is what I was called to do. I jumped in head first...into real estate, into motherhood, into life because life is too short, you know? It still hurts.

The pain is mild, but it's still there. Yes, I had a dream of forever. I had a dream of a family. Sometimes I still dream that he'll come back, but it's over. And I'm on my own.