In ‘22 you stood before God and my family and made a vow to love honor and respect me. You looked into my eyes and lied to my face. In ‘23 you brought a woman into our lives and I left our bed. It was no longer sacred for me. I never knew you again as my husband. I took off the only rings you gave to me. I stood by your side. Poured into you as your devoted wife while you emptied me in every way you could. In ‘24 you walked out of the marriage, but still wanted to keep me from moving on. In ‘25 your mistress called me looking for you. (How dare she!). I had the courage to walk into that courthouse and ask for my freedom from you, and like a coward, you ducked and dodged the process server. Now this year has almost come to a close and I’m on the verge of finally saying goodbye to you and to Mrs. Troupe.
For the past several weeks I have had the urge to try running, but I know the risks to myself are very real if I I were to even remotely do something like that. I wished that my hands would stop burning or my feet and legs would stop tingling, or my heart would not race so bad just from laying down. I listen to its rapid beating, oftentimes, it feels like it's skipping. I feel like a walking book of diseases. Congestive Heart Failure, diabetes, anemia, high blood pressure, anxiety, post traumatic stress disorder, depression. I know that I am more than just a diagnostic code, but to the doctors that I see all I am is just billable hours. My former doctor won't even fill out my paperwork to keep my apartment unless he can charge my insurance for an office visit. Sad.
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