“I spent the weekend in the fetal position”, I used to tell my therapist every week when we interrupted the Tuesday morning session. I don’t know how many times, or really, how many months in a row I told him. I’ve already lost count, but I know there were a lot of them. Recently, while listening to music while driving to work, a Pink song came up that says I’m not broke, I’m bent. When I got to the office I looked up the video on YouTube and there I saw a woman on a bed in the fetal position. I identify myself. It reminded me of the time when I spent all day in bed with sad thoughts, feeling deep and painful loneliness.
I separated when my daughter was almost five years old, her father decided to leave with another woman. And as he walked along the white sand beaches with her, I had a hard time keeping up with my daughter. When he left, my first thought was: what do I do now? I felt lost, without the ability to work because, in my opinion, at that time, I was useless. And I’m not victimizing myself now, but I really meant it then.
After many therapies, I realized that my daughter’s father had psychologically and emotionally abused me for many years, without my realizing it. It happened little by little, in silence, with little gestures and words, until I felt I was useless. That’s why when she left, the first thing I did was question my ability to move on and take care of my daughter on my own.
When I met him, I was working and earning well, I had friends, I felt pretty, I lived with my mother and my sisters, and I had no big worries. I was young, 26, and had dreams to achieve, but I didn’t know where to start. I have always lived in vulnerable areas of Santiago and always with my family we were very poor. I didn’t know what was beyond the towns where I grew up. So when I met my daughter’s father, another world opened up to me.
Shortly after we met, we went to live together in a very nice neighborhood in the center. Things were going well, we had fun together, we talked a lot, and I, who had never had a relationship as intense as that, felt in love and happy. When did our relationship break up so badly? I wondered about every weekend I spent curled up in my bed. I searched in my memories, each of my mistakes, the reasons why he had left us. I blamed myself for everything: for not cooking well, for not being successful enough in my business at that time, for gaining weight, for not having more conversation topics, for not dancing, not to have a festive and social personality like him. , to be ugly and for a thousand other things.
Sometimes I didn’t bathe, eat or drink water. I cried and regretted my own life. I repeated to myself who is going to love me now?, without finding an answer to this question. And not just because my daughter’s father left me, but because I felt insignificant; I thought it was impossible for anyone to see me among the thousands of beautiful, successful women, both in work and in love.
One Sunday in February, when I couldn’t stand my grief and was taking a tearful nap in the afternoon, my daughter brought me hot tea and told me it was to make me feel better. It was then that I understood that she, at five years old, perceived my grief.
When I was with my daughter during the week and other weekends, I tried to keep myself “well”. Took her to school, walked, played with her and whatever it took. But all my smiles from that time were fake. I tried to pretend as much as possible so that she and my close friends wouldn’t notice my sadness. But I don’t think I fooled anyone. The pain was surely coming out of my pores. So I ended up walking away from everyone.
One Sunday in February, when I couldn’t stand my grief and was taking a tearful nap in the afternoon, my daughter brought me hot tea and told me it was to make me feel better. There I understood that she, at five years old, perceived my sorrow, maybe she did not understand it, but she felt it and it was not fair for her. So I drank my tea. I was sweating and crying a lot, as if my body wanted to release the pain through tears and sweat. Then I got up, hugged her, took a shower and we went out for ice cream. We walked a lot and came home telling stories on the way.
That day, I decided to move on. My daughter didn’t deserve to see her mother like this, and I didn’t deserve to be like this either. I left my company, I looked for a formal job. It was very difficult for me because I had spent several years as an entrepreneur.
My self-esteem didn’t help me much either, surely in the interviews they noticed my pity or something, because they didn’t accept me in any job. For my birthday that year, my daughter hugged me and said it was a magical hug, to make me feel good.
Strangely – or magically – on the same day I received a job offer from someone I hadn’t seen in many years. He offered me to take charge of the digital content of a fashion brand. I accepted it immediately even though it was not a big salary, but it was my chance to start over. I worked on it, and I also managed to write for a few blogs where I charged for every note. I raised some money and enrolled in a degree at UC. I studied in the evening three times a week, after work. My daughter went to kindergarten after school, and for the three days I studied, I paid kindergarten extra to take care of her. I had it until 10:30 p.m.
Sometimes when I took her out, I took her to sleep in my arms for long blocks, hugging her and thanking her for the sacrifice, because that effort we both made was to get a better job. and be better.
On those days, I paid the babysitter extra to take care of her. I had it until 10:30 p.m. Sometimes when I took her out, I took her to sleep in my arms for long blocks, hugging her and thanking her for the sacrifice, because that effort we both made was to get a better job. and be better.
My grief didn’t go away, but the heavy workload I had and my studies covered it very well. I always looked for psychological help, because I knew I couldn’t manage on my own. The first sessions I had were very intense. I cry a lot. I cried for what I went through, for the shame, for the fear, for everything. Gradually I was able to advance, I had three jobs until after finishing the degree I found one with a better salary and so I was able to eliminate one and keep two. I needed to stabilize myself financially and emotionally, two things that I had to do in parallel, because without having a support network, my daughter was completely dependent on me.
Today my daughter is 15 years old. We have our own apartment in Ñuñoa, the car that we both wanted, a beautiful dog and the tranquility and stability that I always wanted to give him. When I look back and see the great pain I went through, I stop to thank myself for not giving up, for reinventing myself, for believing in myself despite everything, and I thank my daughter, who under his innocence gave me the great lesson of life: learn to smile despite adversity.
Today I no longer spend my days curled up on the bed, but I neither complain nor regret having spent them before, it was part of my approach, it was my way of experiencing the mourning of separation and the way which I had to start thinking about the emotional abuse I experienced, and understanding myself from there. I don’t think I will ever be the woman I was then, because today I have more tools to defend myself and the ability to overcome chaos.”
* FR (she preferred to appear only with her initials) is a reader of Paula and sent us her story to the email hola@paula.cl. She is also a mother, works in marketing and writes short stories.
Source: Latercera
I am David Jack and I have been working in the news industry for over 10 years. As an experienced journalist, I specialize in covering sports news with a focus on golf. My articles have been published by some of the most respected publications in the world including The New York Times and Sports Illustrated.
