Eleven months ago I left my husband. At the time we had been married for more than 22 years.
The day before I made the decision I realised that I’d given up all hope of ever being happy; that I’d accepted that I wasn’t important and my happiness didn’t matter.
As I reflected (well, thought obsessively) on that revelation the next day, I realised I’d allowed myself, my REAL self, to become invisible. I was confronted by the thought that by staying in the marriage, I was teaching my sons that as long as they were happy then everything was okay, and I was teaching my daughter that as long as her partner and children were happy, then she should be too. After years of convincing myself to stay in the relationship because I believed that was best for the children, I can’t put into words how heartbreaking that realisation was. I told my husband that night that our marriage was over.
I spent most of my marriage feeling like my thoughts, feelings and opinions weren’t important. I was only acknowledged when I stayed inside the box labelled Good Christian Wife and Mother. No controversial opinions allowed. No uncomfortable questions allowed. No radical or rebellious thoughts allowed. No confronting emotions allowed.
I struggled for years feeling unhappy and unloved. Christian friends assured me if I just focused on finding contentment in my circumstances everything would be okay. If I focused on my blessings, instead of my frustrations, if I focused on serving others and not wasting time on selfish introspection, then I would find happiness and purpose.
Instead, with each friend who reinforced the message my husband was giving me that my thoughts and feelings weren’t valid, I felt a little bit smaller, a little bit less important, a little bit less visible.
I gradually faded to beige. It was easier to not stand out, to not make a fuss, to not be noticed – or to only be noticed for doing things that were consistent with the image I was encouraged to present. It was easier to not develop friendships with people who were too quirky, confrontational, or unconventional. It was easier to focus on volunteer work and serving others, and keeping so busy that I never had time to think about how sad and lonely and lost I felt.
I felt like I had so many filters in place when I spoke with other people that I didn’t even know what I thought anymore. I felt like I was constantly apologetic, constantly deferring to the opinions and wishes of others. That I reviewed every word before I spoke to make sure it was appropriate.
Over the years, I felt like I lost who I really was. I was most true to myself with my children, but with my husband, family and increasingly filtered group of friends, I put a lot of effort into being who I *should* be, not who I really was.
I’ve spent most of the past 11 months trying to find my voice. It’s been so hard to reconnect with myself and to overcome the conditioning and fears that have prevented me from being myself with others for so long. The challenges of the separation have been so emotionally draining and overwhelming it has been hard to find the energy to socialise with others or to sustain conversations.
I want to share my story, want to capture the swirling thoughts, frustration, confusion, anger, relief, sadness, hurt, sense of betrayal and the ever growing sense of hope for the future somehow – to get them out of my head and onto a page. I want to talk about things that matter and I want to share my story just in case there is someone else like me out there who needs to know they matter.
After years of feeling ignored and invisible, this blog is my opportunity to be myself; to say what I really think, to talk about the things that matter to me. This is my chance to stop being invisible. I deserve to be seen and heard.
It’s time to start the conversation.