A Wasteland

“I am living in hell from one day to the next. But there is nothing I can do to escape. I don't know where I would go if I did. I feel utterly powerless, and that feeling is my prison. I entered of my own free will, I locked the door, and I threw away the key.”

-- Haruki Murakami, author, writer

It's what your life feels like, every day - a wasteland.  You searched for heaven, thought you'd found it, and discovered hell on earth; cruelty in the guise of a lover.  You mistakenly invite evil into your life.

Every nerve ending on edge, like dry sand when it gets into your clothes and works in around your nether regions; itching.  Something you can't simply ignore.  You become an emotional desert where very little grows, and nobody cares.  You feel yourself dying. The only sound, a tuft of grass cracking as it dries out.  No breeze, no humidity, nothing alive - a wasteland.

You feel as if your life has become an emotional wasteland.  A territory even cockroaches won't frequent.

You've reached the point where sanity teeters on a fine edge, a breaking point.  You try to push it from your mind and go back to preparing chicken for dinner 

And then, you hear it.  Like so many other days before, at this same time, the closing of a car door in the driveway, and the certain knowledge that the beating is about to commence.  Another beating, not because of some way you have been lacking, but of a perception that you've been.  His perception, because he needs someone to blame for his inadequacies.  Someone weaker.

You tighten your fingers around the carving knife on the counter, and you wait.

The front door opens and he shouts his usual derisive comment at you from the front room.  You brace for the assault to come.  His footfalls go another direction, though, toward the bedroom.  Some other priority consumes his attention.  The bathroom door closes, locks.

Your hand begins to shake and you put the knife back on the counter.  You see his keys on the table near the front door with his wallet.  Your mind screams at you, "MOVE!"

Twelve hours later you pull into a small beachfront motel with separate bungalows, park, and turn off the motor.  You sit there in silence as the realization hits that you can't remember one mile of the last hours.  After checking in to a small room you take a walk on the beach in bare feet and watch the sunrise.  Removing the thousand dollars, taken from the auto teller before leaving town, and the odd cash from his wallet, you consider the credit cards and think about the paper trail.  You stuff the cash in a pocket, draw your arm back, and throw the cards and the wallet as far as you can into the waves.

The sun peaks over the horizon and warms your face as you truly smile for the first time in years.  Good riddance. 

On your way back to the motel you pass a tuft of grass growing from a dune.  You stop as it makes a familiar cracking noise.  No, not cracking, rustling - from the morning breeze coming off the water.  The sound of the waves crashing and the gulls overhead.  A beetle scurries from the base of the tuft and races like a dune buggy over the sand. 

The sights and sounds of life.  Your life.  Your future.

Life is much too short to be caught up in an abusive relationship.  Violence is not an answer.  If you can't divorce yourself from it, then leave.  This sounds very simplistic when you consider all the reasons you can't just leave.  So, the option is what?  To commit murder?  To let the situation final spiral to no other option than death?  His, or yours?

I think one must, eventually, come to a realization that nothing is more important than one's self.  Things are just things.  Things can be replaced, as can living people.  You can always get new stuff, new friends, new life, new freedom, a new and better love.  It starts with what God gave each us.  It starts with life.  Life always starts somewhere.  Your life starts with you.  Be brave and take the first step on a new path.

Learn to love you first, then learn to love others.  Take care of you first.  Heal you first.  Put on your oxygen mask first, before helping the passenger next to you.

It just makes sense. 

“An abuser can seem emotionally needy. You can get caught in a trap of catering to him, trying to fill a bottomless pit. But he’s not so much needy as entitled, so no matter how much you give him, it will never be enough. He will just keep coming up with more demands because he believes his needs are your responsibility until you feel drained down to nothing.”

-- Lundy Bancroft, author, abuse counselor

Editor's Note

(Re: disclaimer cum "get out of jail free" card)

Before you go getting your panties in a bunch, it is essential to understand that this is just an opinion site and, as such, can be subjected to scrutiny by anyone with a differing opinion. It doesn't make either opinion any more right or wrong than the other. An opinion, presented in this context, is a way of inciting others to think and, hopefully, to form opinions of their own, if they haven't already done so. This is also why, occasionally, I will present an "opinion" just to stir an emotional pot. Where it may sound like I agree with the statements made, I'm more interested in getting others to consider an alternate viewpoint. 

It is my fervent hope that we keep open and active minds when reading opinions and while engaging in peaceful and constructive discussion, in an arena of mutual respect, concerning those opinions put forth. After over twenty years with military intelligence, I have come to believe engaging each other in this manner and in this arena is the way we will learn tolerance and respect for differing beliefs, cultures, and viewpoints.

We all fall from grace, some more often than others; it is part of being human. God's test for us is what we learn from the experience, and what we do afterward.

Pastor Tony spent 22 years with United States Air Force Intelligence as a planner, analyst, briefer, instructor, and senior manager. He spent 17 years, following his service career, working with the premier, world renowned, Institutional Review Board helping to protect the rights of human subjects involved in pharmaceutical research. Ordained 1n 2013 as an "interfaith" minister, he founded the Congregation for Religious Tolerance in response to intolerance shown by Christians toward peaceful Islam. As the weapon for his war on intolerance he chose the pen, and wages his "battle" in the guise of the Congregation's official online blog, The Path, of which he is both author and editor. "The Path" offers a vehicle for commentary and guidance concerning one's own personal, spiritual, path toward peace and the final destination for us all. He currently resides in Pass Christian, Mississippi, where he volunteers as lead Chaplain and Chaplain Program Liaison, at the regional medical center.