Dreamstate

Tonight I awoke form a nightmare. In it I was out of money and trying to convince Michael Kelso from that 70’s show to pay me $20 he owed me. My ex-husband, Mr. Perfect was Eric and I was Donna but we were still us. You know how dreams go when you fall asleep with the TV on.

Anyway, I decided that it had to be a nightmare because I was still married to Mr. Perfect. Nothing good came of that marriage. I had conceived Bubba out of the deal a month or two before we ever got married.

During our marriage I attained 1 house that is falling down around my ears, 1 bike that has NEVER run, 1 car that my boyfriend, Mr. Excitement, totaled, 2 cats that got eaten by coyotes, 4 cigarette burn scars and more psychological scars than I care to mention. Nights like this I lie awake and I wonder why I stayed so long.

I listen to the women on Sex and the City, desperately trying to find a man to marry and I know that I was one of those women. I wanted so badly to be married that I’d take anyone. I was so fed up with men that when I found one that wouldn’t rape me or hit me, I thought I’d hit the jackpot. Then he showed his true face.

But still I stayed.

Why?

My therapist said he saw real potential for us to make it in our marriage, if only I could stay on my medication and level out. He never knew about everything that went on behind closed doors. All he saw was the loving, concerned husband who cradled me once a week as they urged me to talk about my past. Those two ganged up on me and decided I was the flawed one who needed fixing.

But who says I’m broken?

Here I am a year since the therapist volunteered to testify against me in my divorce. It’s nine months since the divorce was final and I’d tossed Perfect aside for good and I’m stronger than I ever was. I’m facing losing my house to foreclosure and living on the streets and I haven’t cracked. That’s a big accomplishment for anyone. I’ve lost it all, my money, my credit, my pretty little front and I’m still out there swinging. I’m not going down without a fight. I will survive.