A young woman was awaiting her due date. The last day finally arrived and she went to her obstetrician for the final checkup. Going through the motions that she had done for almost a whole year, she sat back and relaxed. That is, until she saw the face of the doctor. She quickly swallowed her fear and asked those dreaded words, “Is anything wrong?” The doctor’s eyes filled with worry. “Your baby doesnt have a heart beat. We will immediately have to induce labor, and there is no hope that the baby is alive.” The woman screamed out in agony. All those months of anticipation. All the hoping. All those dreams, gone! And she still had to endure the pains of labor, for what? Death. Why Lord? Why couldn’t she just give up now? There was nothing more to hope for. As the doctor rushed her off she didn’t know whether or not she could handle meeting the little one who would know no future.
When I was young I had dreams of what life and marriage would be like. I pictured the happily every after and my handsome prince who would whisk me away from my cinders. I saw marriages crumble all around me, yet I remained hopeful, after all I had God on my side. I asked Him to find me Mr. Right. If He picked my mate, than wouldn’t everything be OK?
I was LED to Charlie. I knew that is was by the hand of God. Yet soon after marriage I began to see his true colors. His verbal and emotional abuse took a toll on my self esteem and I felt that I was going crazy. He had a unique ability to turn everything around to be my fault. He made me responsible for everything in our life. Then if things went wrong he would belittle me, telling me that I should have done it his way.
It’s been 19 years of riding his roller coaster. I stay due to love, religion and children. He has never hit me, but I have felt the blows of his words and his anger. I have endured. I smile whenever I read Matthew 25: 23, where God says, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” I have indeed fought the good fight (every day).
I am tired of being in labor. Many days I wonder if there will ever be life at the end of this trying time of my life. Where is the hope. Will there be a happily ever after someday?
So I started writing. I wrote a sentence in my head, rolled it around till it tasted just right. When satisfied I wrote it down. I wrote like this for months. I woke up one day and I had a 300 page book. I started again. Another book. I started again. Another. I’m now at book 4. Most of them about abuse. One about forgiveness.
Now I wait. I desperately feel the need to publish at least one of them. People laugh and say, “How many people have gotten as far as you? Four books! Amazing.” But would you say that to a pregnant woman? “Think how many people have given birth. You don’t need to push it any further.” Yeah right?!
I can’t breath I want it so bad. I want to publish, not for my own self ego, but to prove that all this labor (all the pain that I’ve endured) isn’t for nothing. I need to know that there is life at the end of the pain. I can’t sleep. I get so excited with each new prospect. That is until failure stares me in the face again. Can I rise after another failure. I am so tired. Hope is exhausting!
I can’t self publish, no money and then Charlie would know about it. I have to live a life of secrecy. Or I will reap his wrath. He is one of those that doesn’t like anyone to know anything personal about him. Plus to know that I am complaining about him, (which I hope I am not.) Just saying the facts is enough for him to seek revenge. But I cannot live in silence anymore. So I have come to wordpress feeling so alone and imprisoned. I took a deep breath as I started my journey. What if he finds out? He is going to kill me. Well not literally. But I might lose my marriage. I don’t want to push that much, but I can’t live my life in a prison.
So now Wednesday I am supposed to hear if this one publishing company is interested in reading my whole autobiography. They’ve read the first three chapters. Which you have here under my about. Wednesday can’t come soon enough. And they said that they have a long agenda and might not get to it. So I sit here heart pumping wildly and wait. This company has viewed two others of my abuse books and turned them both down. This conservative christian company was not ready to attempt fiction or a 12 step process book. Yet, the editor asked me to write my autobiography. So I wait and pray.
If not is my dream dead? Can I keep pushing? I’ll see. Rejection hurts. Irony- a book about rejection and pain, rejected. I just have to find a way. Any ideas out there? It isn’t about money, It isn’t about recognition- I’ll use a pen name. It is about hope. Did I go through this pain for nothing? I hope not!