Tammy Wynette Was Wrong

I didn’t forget about Blogger Idol this week.  I’m still happily playing along with the home link-ups.  This week, Blogger Idol presented us with the following challenge: “Every decision we make changes the outcome of our life. This week's assignment theme is ‘There once was a chance I didn't take.’ You have to write about a chance that you regret not taking, or a chance that you had, that you didn't take, that may have turned your life in a totally different direction.”

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“You need to leave him,” my mother matter-of-factly stated on the other end of the telephone line.

“But mom, he needs me,” I replied.  I believed this with every inch of my being.  He needed me at his side.  I couldn’t leave him alone in such a state – so physically and mentally weak and exhausted. 

“You need to make yourself the priority,” she returned.  “He took advantage of you.”

“I know he did.  I know,” while I acknowledged this truth, I continued on, “but he’s clearly ill.  I don’t think he meant to hurt me.  I think he must be sorry for what he did, or he wouldn’t have gone to such extremes.  I married him.  Marriage means something to me.  It’s a commitment, and I can’t just walk away.”

“You can walk away,” she countered, “and you need to.  You can’t justify staying based on the sanctity of marriage.  Your marriage is a lie, Angela.”

Damn. There it was.  She didn’t dance around it; she pummeled me in the face with this brutal reality like she was throwing an upper right cut.

It was a lie.  I didn’t know the man I married.  I don’t think anyone really knew him, his own self included.  He was confused and mentally ill and his life was so out of control that while I had this discussion with my mother, he was lying on a hospital bed in the intensive care unit after a serious suicide attempt.

It was only a few months into my marriage when I discovered much of what had been hidden from me.  The lying, cheating, and stealing were all spelled out in what he had intended to be his final farewell, a letter that was handed to me by one of the emergency responders on the scene. 

The man I married didn’t exist.  He was a kind, considerate, honest man.  The man who I was committed to now was deceitful and selfish. I could have chosen an annulment, and I should have chosen an annulment.  I had been wronged, but I did what I believed to be right at the time. 

I didn’t listen to my mother.  Rather, I took the advice of country crooner Tammy Wynette and I stood by my man.  I gave him my all, through more lies, fights, personal struggles with depression, and his abuse.  In giving him my all, I lost myself.  I’m sorry I lost myself.

If I had listened to my mother, I could have truly lived.  I could have enjoyed my friends and my family, instead he did his damndest to isolate and alienate me from the folks I loved, leaving me feeling alone and dependent upon him.  I could have enjoyed ages twenty-two and twenty-three, living young, wild and free.  I could have known my worth and continued to love myself.

If I had walked away sooner, I wouldn’t have had to fight so damn hard to regain my identity and accept myself again.  I could have avoided the battle to rebuild a strong self-concept.  But, I punched, I kicked, I built mental muscle until I got her back – I got me back.  I am stronger now. I am better.  I am resilient. 

Regardless, these were gifts I gave to myself – they didn’t simply come from the struggle of an abusive marriage.  When I look in the rearview mirror, those years were just a detour and I’m still right where I belong now. 

I could say I should have listened to my mother.  I could say Tammy Wynette was wrong, and I wish I had never heard that song.  However, it’s my own voice I needed to hear.  I will never let anyone hush her ever again.