Why am I writing this? That is a really good question. To be honest, there are many reasons but maybe there are two main ones. Firstly, I need to get it all down, for my own peace of mind. For 33 years I have allowed this all to fester inside me, slowly killing me from the inside out. Every part of my life has been affected in one way or another, from my personal view of the world, to my relationships and running as a common vein throughout my teenage years and my adulthood.
Secondly, it has always bothered me that there may be others out there, just like me who are struggling to deal with something similar. And maybe, just maybe one of them would pick this up, read it and relate to it. Is there just the slightest chance that by putting this down on paper, someone else might find the strength to dig themselves out of their little hole? Because sometimes just knowing we are not alone gives us just the boost that we need.
But enough is enough. Last week a good friend asked me a really good question; why are you still allowing him to ruin your life? Never has a question so affected me. It really made me think and produced a slew of other questions. Had I really been allowing him to control my life remotely? Was it within my power to wrest back control? Did I have the strength? Was I willing to take the chance and maybe destroy my family into the bargain?
I thought of so many questions and just as many answers. There is also always the possibility that someone will pick this up and read it and will see parts of a loved one in me and recognise a cry for help that might never be vocalised, but nevertheless needs a response.
And then I came up with the best answer of all – I had to give it a try, if not for myself, but for my wonderful sons and especially for my middle son. My rock.
