Puppydog Tales and Going the Distance
by Louise Gallagher
The air is thinner in this city nestled at the foot of the Rockies. Rain falls softly, tinged with the chill of autumn and the smoky aroma of burning wood heralding the winter months to come. Golden and russet leaves drift to the ground and the swollen river flows languorously in the river valley below the ridge upon which the pooch and I walk.
My mind drifts as effortlessly as the clouds wafting above into memory's lane. Three years ago I walked this ridge, tears streaming down my face, my heart a shattered and broken vessel no longer able to sustain the pounding fear pummeling my mind. My thoughts reeled back from the edges of the chasm that yawned in black and terrifying infinity every time I thought of 'him' and all that had gone wrong. I was so lost, frightened, overwhelmed. I didn't know which way to turn and so the pooch and I would stand upon that ridge as I envisioned throwing myself over the lip, rolling, falling, catapulting myself into the icy waters of the river below. If only I could fall into those waters and be swept away.
Yesterday, I read an entry I jotted into my journal at about this time. I had finally ended it. Told him I would not, could not do this anymore. I didn't know where my money was. I had no home because we had bought our home together I thought. I had transferred my money from my home to him, put my belongings in storage until we could move into our home together (which by now was 3 months overdue) -- but everything kept going wrong. Ahhh, the stories. 'The seller's are divorcing, the house closing is in jeopardy because she's disputing the settlement. Revenue Canada is trying to seize my assets and I need to ensure the house isn't ceased because your money would be lost too. The locks need changing, my socks need changing, my story needs changing' -- cause by this point, my mind was questioning every single word that came out of his mouth while I silently waited for it all to 'be fixed'. Ahhh, the stories -- and everyone of them a continuation of who he is: The Lie.
At the time, I had moved out of his home and was staying with a girlfriend. An event happened (he got violent), the police were inadvertently called -- he taunted me to call them, picked up the phone, dialed 911 and didn't realize, once connected, they never disconnect until the police arrive. When they did, I lied and said nothing had happened. But they took him away anyway because of some outstanding parking tickets. When he came back later that day, I remember how proudly he showed me the pink slip indicating that they only arrested him because of some parking tickets. "See." He said. "You didn't believe me. That's why they took me away."
One truth drowned out by a sea of lies, but to him -- that one truth made all his lies true.
I didn't care. I told him to leave and that I would never see him again.
In my journal entry that day I wrote:
He calls and pleads with me to give him another chance. "I can't do this alone," he says. But I can't do this at all. Trust is such a precious gift. I gave him mine. He trampled upon it. Treated it like a throw away toy. He lied, deceived and cheated on me. I do not want his energy in my life. It was not right for me from the very beginning. It is not right for me now. It is such a comforting thought to think that someone else can fix my life, take care of me. But I cannot make someone else responsible for me. I must take my responsibility to heart. My heart. I must build my own life. I know I need to find the courage to say 'good-bye'. This is my journey and my challenge. But I find it so difficulty. One part wants to believe, regardless. But the past lays out a clear route to the truth, and he cannot tell the truth because everything about him is based on lies.
Four days later, after more exhortations from him, I wrote:
If I truly believe that to love someone is to love them, regardless of their flaws, what does it mean to walk away now? Rationally, it makes sense. But from my heart it doesn't. What he has done. what he has said. The lies and deceit have been deadly. They almost killed me. Yet, They didn't. don't let the past be the present. Does that mean he'll lie and deceive me again or does it mean he won't? Steph (the ow) was the only lie here, yet, ow's happen every day to many people. And people forgive that all the time. Can I forgive without trust? Can I live in this love allowing what he does be his, responsible for my words and actions? How much anger am I harbouring. How much of this is about my resentment for what has happened. Where do I let of go of it all? Can I let myself trust him? "I am a good man", he says. What does that mean? His words pass through a filter before entering my body. I resist his words because fear keeps me silent. But I want my home. I want my money back. I want my life back and I have to give him a chance to do that.
I didn't write another word until after he was arrested May 21, 2003.
The beauty of distance is, I can read those words and not feel triggered. There is sadness that I had to go through those contortions, that I was so confused and lost -- but there is no pain.
And that is the value of distance.
When first we leave these encounters, our pain is so great every word, every motion, every thought pins us to the past, like a knife to the heart. Our feelings surge from us in torrents of red, glistening pain. We are cold. We are hot. Our pain wracked bodies won't keep us up and keep letting us down as we struggle to climb out of the pit of despair into which we have fallen or simply get out of bed.
Had I read these journal entries too soon after the end of that tortourous ride, I risked facing my own anger about 'what I had done'. I would have held myself responsible for having been so blind, so gullible, so seeped in denial I could not see that I deserved more than he ever could or would have given me.
Two+ years later, I read these words and know they were written at a time when I was lost. They are the words of the woman who did not believe she deserved more than he could or would have given her.
Today -- I know that is not true. I do deserve a life free of abuse. A life in which I walk my path of truth and dignity without fear that I am less than, other than, more than who I am meant to be -- Free.
Giving myself distance from the pain of the past gives me the gift of being able to go the distance without keeping myself stuck in what happened. Coming to this place today, I can see how wounded, battered and bruised I was -- and I can lovingly honour the woman who was abused and the woman I am today. It takes courage and strength to not drown yourself in the voices within that want you to relive every horrifying, terrifying, nullifying moment, word, action and detail of those chilling days that were my life with him. But in giving myself the gift of going the distance to get to a place where I can look back without feeling the pain, I have given myself the gift of time to heal.
I will never get back my money. I will never get back the home I had and all my belongings. I will never get back the past so that I can erase the pain and turmoil of his passing through it. But I did get back my life -- and that had nothing to do with him.
When first I got free, I was not strong enough to look back. I could barely look above my feet. At this distance, I can look back without fear, see today with eyes filled with joy and envision the future based on the beauty of my life as it is in freedom. And that is the gift I give myself today.
This morning, the pooch and I stood on the ridge. The gentle autumn wind whispered through the yellow and green and russet leaves of the tree that stood beside me in defiance of time and nature's forces willing it to fall down. The city was enshrouded in a misty, magical veil of ethereal clouds as I took a deep satisfying breath. My eyes mapped the river's serendipitous journey through the valley below as my heart beat a warm and familiar tattoo of love within me. This is my life today. And I am happy.
In love,
Ellie
Originally published on WoN September 2005
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