A Day in the Life

I would get up early each morning to give myself a chance to wake up. I'd drink several cups of coffee, while working on a crewel project. By early, I'd be out of bed by 3:30 A.M. to get ready for work at 5:00. Most mornings, I'd wake up alone, except for my two-year-old, sleeping in the next room.

Most mornings, I had gotten only three or four hours of sleep the night before; I'd spend most of the night pacing.

My husband got off work at 10 P.M. but didn't typically get home before I had to leave for work at 4:30 A.M.. I wasn't afraid of him being in an accident. I wasn't really afraid of him being in jail. (A little voice inside my head told me that he was safe and sound in someone else's bed.) What I was afraid of was being late for work.

I could not afford to lose my job; I had already decided to leave him. I needed to find a second job and someone to watch my boy, while I worked.

I longed for my lost love to come and rescue me from this drudgery.

When he'd finally come in the door, I was out it just as fast. I'd work my shift until 3:00 P.M., pick up my boy and go look for an apartment. By the time I'd returned home, he would be gone to work. Whew! An evening alone with my son. After I put my son to bed, the whole process would repeat.

Deep down, I didn't mind his absence. It meant no yelling or fighting. However, knowing that he was out drinking and sleeping around didn't please me about his not being home. I had reached my breaking point. I could not take living this way any longer.

He begged me for a second chance and this is how he uses it? It didn't take him two weeks to go back to the behavior that he demonstrated while I was pregnant. I've given him a long enough leash. It's time to walk away. It's past time to walk away. I must rescue myself, if Trampus will not return.


How it all started
How it is ending