No Begging

On Tuesday night, after a very long day, I got back to my car and the battery was dead. This was . . . Well, it wasn’t optimal. But it took me back to when I left Owen.

I don’t think I ever told you the moment I decided to really leave Owen. Indeed, perhaps because of the way I was raised (don’t air your dirty laundry in public), perhaps because while we are in the midst of situations we tend to minimize the worst of it as a way of dealing with the fact we can’t fix it. It’s not the boiling frog – not quite – more like not poking the bear.

I locked my keys in the car, while the car was still running. It was minus 20. I locked my keys, my purse, with my wallet and my cell; my briefcase with my computer. I locked my keys in my car, about 15 minutes before clie a meeting I needed to chair. A meeting that was, if I could find street parking, was going to take me 16 minutes to get to. After the meeting I had to study for the 2 final exams that were taking place the next day.

Owen was 12 minutes away. He was at physio, the same physio appointment he did three times a week, had been doing for 8 months. If he had left, driven back to the house, not even gotten out of the car, unlocked my car from his fob and driven back, he might have been 10 minutes late.

When I got into the house, texted him from my iPad, told him what I’d done, he told me to call AAA. I pointed out that I didn’t have a phone, so he told me to go to the neighbour. I pointed out that I didn’t have my AAA card. He agreed to phone for me. I pointed out that given the cold temperature, I could be waiting 12 hours. I had no way to let my client know I was going to be late. I couldn’t even study. I was desperate.

In the end, it was the moment I had to tell him I was begging him for help. I had to beg the man I was married to for almost 16 years, for help. That was done for me.

So, Tuesday. I came back to my car. It wouldn’t start. I called an Uber, I called AAA. When AAA was going to take 72 hours to boost my car, I called a friend. She came by with a portable booster the next day. Car started. Problem solved.

No begging.

I feel badly about not sticking it out. Still. But Tuesday reminded me, I wasn’t a little bit miserable, I was really miserable. I’m alone, but then I had been for a long time.

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2 Responses to No Begging

  1. a says:

    That’s an objectively terrible thing to do. From my perspective, regardless of whatever he might say, he was done with you too. It was a good choice to leave.

    (Don’t get me wrong – I once had to harass my husband to come and help me when one of our cars broke down. But it was more of a “Have you done everything to solve your problem without me?” kind of discussion, rather than an “I can see that you think this is an emergency, but it’s not my problem so f*** you” kind of discussion.)

  2. Debby Hornburg says:

    This reminds me, shortly after I left my husband, taking three children, homeless, jobless, no idea how I was going to make this work, scared sick (I didn’t feel my lips for weeks…I don’t know why) but one night, sitting on the back porch of my sister’s house. The moon was so beautiful and I as I studied it, it suddenly occurred to me that the marriage was done. That I never had to deal with it again, that it was all forward from this point… and there came such a jubilation. In the midst of all that uncertainty, there was joy. Endings are beginnings, Mrs. S. Don’t forget that.

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