Voicemail from Hell 2.

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I don't have a date for this one.

Sometime between May 2019 and May 2020

I remember it very well, and that's a good thing.  My son doesn't have any recordings and so he rants at me about his dad, and that has been dragging me, metaphorically, over and through broken glass. And about an hour ago I reached breaking point and let myself fall into it - into the howling pain of it. 

So I needed to remember.

To get myself back I've plugged in my headphones, dragging up old sound files to know what was said to me. When I remember how bad it was, then any sense of loss and grief is drowned out by the truth.

In October 2019 I identified the prime emotion of this time - it was terror. May seem inexplicable, like how could I have felt that way, why wasn't it sadness or anger? I can't tell you. I don't know - but terror was the flavour of that year, something so terrible, erosive about the lying? Possible. Losing trust in myself was the most damaging part, the way he (husband) used my words and phrases, the way he knew that I needed to know if he was in love with her....

And how much better I felt when I knew - that's the paradoxical truth of it!

You know all those friends who have divorced and when you talk with them they tell you how well they get on with their ex?

That isn't me. 

I also remember the music that went with that time...I felt that by not taking the high road, by allowing myself to become the screaming banshee, by not being 'nice' I was the one who finished it.  A pyric victory, not good, but right.


 

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