Hemmed in

Today is now the second day since I fully decided to go no contact. I am working out drafts of my separation (“divorce” or “emancipation”) letter. I am very convinced that I will do this, and do it soon. 

** My energy and clarity has fully returned. **

The magnitude of the above statement is hard to convey in words. 

I have been so sleepy and lethargic it was alarming. For the past few weeks, and especially last week, I had almost constant headaches, and slept from 2-6 hours a day on days off, in addition to a full 7-8 hours of sleep at night. My wife tells me I was not myself: I had low energy for the kids, and difficulty focusing on my wife’s needs. All I could focus on was going round in circles with my parents. 

Now, I feel incredibly clear, and my energy has returned. 

I feel hemmed in, and this makes the decision easy, in a way. 

I cannot go back to them. That is very clear. I cannot crawl inside my mothers womb again, to become a five year old child. And even that would not satisfy her. I cannot abdicate my adult mind and control of my family to my domineering dad. I cannot go back. 

Neither can I try to work out yet another round of boundaries. They will just break them. But more than that, I no longer trust them around my kids. At all. Not even one visit, not even for one hour. I just don’t trust them, either of them. I fear tendrils of emotional incest, I fear lewd regards, stolen touches of pedophelia. I just don’t trust them. 

And there is no way that I can explain this to them that will be acceptable. There is no going back. 

I held on as long as possible, as our ships parted ways. The time has come for me to choose a vessel. I chose my wife, my children...myself. I choose health. 

I cannot go back. 

Neither can I stay in this place of indecision. I have been in this place a long time. It has been a place of deep learning. But I cannot live here. It is tearing me apart inside to try to entertain two realities: am I a victim of abuse, or the beneficiary of a good upbringing? They cannot both be true. And the implications touch nearly everything inside. Which is it? 

The visit and innocent comment from my brother seemed to have triggered the worst of my reactions. I cannot live in this place. 

And that leaves me with one option. 

I cannot go back. I cannot stay. 

I must divorce my parents, fully emancipate myself, and chart a forward trajectory for my life, which does not include my abusers.  And yes, that will be their names to me, in my mind. “My abusers.” “My abusive father.” “My abusive mother.” “My birth parents.” Or I will refer to them by their given names, not their titles. 

I will step boldly onto this new reality. It will be shocking. Many will not understand. My parents will raise a mighty protest. It will cost me. 

But it cannot cost me more than the alternatives. 

I cannot go back. I cannot stay. 

And so I choose emancipation. I choose one reality. I choose health. I choose life. 

And this choice fills me with clarity and light.