When Every Little Bit of Hope is Gone, Move Along…

Personal Blog Nosh Magazine{by Melissa from Rock and Drool}

It was August 1999. I was a 30 year old mommy of two small children. I was the wife of one really screwed up little boy stuck in the body of a 33 year old man. Yet, I was no one. Just an empty shell.

Things looked pretty from the outside. Pretty house. Pretty cars. Pretty kids.

On the inside. It was ugly. I was dead and rotting. I felt lifeless and completely without any hope.

I was teetering on reaching maximum density. I was also precariously balancing my sanity. I was beyond misery and I didn’t want company. I wanted to stab my husband in his sleep. We couldn’t have that though. Because who would raise the kids if the dad was dead and the mom was in jail? The system? Hell to the no. I hated him though. With every fiber of my being.

It was bad. Not in a violent sense. There was just nothing worth saving there. But I wasn’t ready to jump off that high dive.

Until, one afternoon in early August. I snapped awake from a short nap. He was the first thing I saw. I looked at him, sweating on the exercise bike that was in our huge bedroom. And I knew it was finally over. Whatever guilt that had been holding me captive in that house, it had lifted. My fears and my conscience screamed that I was free to go.

And I did.

I grabbed clothes and toys. Enough to keep my 1 1/2 year old and 3 1/2 year old dressed and busy for the next couple of days until I could come back to the house when he wasn’t there. I grabbed some essentials for myself. Loaded the stuff into laundry baskets and placed them in the trunk of my car.

As I was strapping the kids into their car-seats, I explained to them that we were about to go on an adventure. Then I turned to my husband and told him that I was leaving. He stood there. Clueless. Not sure in what context I was using the word “leaving” in.

I climbed into my car and I backed out of that driveway.

I swallowed down my anxiety and directed my focus ahead.

I put my car into drive and moved forward. Taking with me, not only my children and my stuff. But a sense of hope. Something that I hadn’t felt in a long time but was so relieved to know it was still there.

With a head full of anticipation and a heart FULL of hope, I popped in a CD and played my favorite song of the moment, Beautiful by TLC, I told my babies that everything was going to be just fine. I knew it would be. I finally felt it from deep within me. It had been there. Waiting. All along.

And we drove off towards it.

Melissa is a mom and writer, but not necessarily in the order, as it depends on the moment.  She shares her life’s triumphs and struggles on her blog, Rock and Drool.  This powerful post of hope after dark days, can be read in it’s original form with all the supportive comments on her blog.   Follow Melissa on Twitter, she’s always willing to join in the conversation.  You can subscribe to Rock and Drool here.

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Loads of Hope for the Holidays

Please join us at Blog Nosh Magazine as we share stories of hope this holiday season in support of the Tide Loads of Hope program, a mobile laundromat offering laundry services to families affected by disasters.

Share your own stories of hope, along with Blog Nosh Magazine, Velveteen Mind, and a gathering of inspiring bloggers, and enter your own post link in the blog carnival below.  Explore featured bloggers as well as three featured posts selected from carnival participants listed in the linky (that could be you!).

Lend your voices now, then participate live during a two day event in New Orleans, Sunday and Monday, December 13 and 14, as we tweet stories of resilience from laundry recipients and volunteers on the ground.  Follow along on twitter via #loadsofhope and be sure to follow @TideLoadsofHope.

Learn more about how you can extend hope to families affected by disasters by visiting http://tideloadsofhope.com

Blog carnival hosted by Blog Nosh Magazine, sponsored by Tide Loads of Hope.

How do the holidays fill you with loads of hope?

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One Comment to “When Every Little Bit of Hope is Gone, Move Along…”

  1. YUCK says:

    You really don’t explain why you had to dump the husband. I mean, yeah, he was immature, but your little story leaves me feeling sorry for a poor schmuck getting up early to sweat on the exercise bike so he doesn’t look like a fat slob. You probably should have thrown in a paragraph or two about how clueless/careless he was, because I’m just not feeling it from what you wrote.

    I also feel sorry for the kids–you bundle them up and haul them away from their daddy with no warning, notice, anything–just because you don’t like the guy anymore, for “whatever” reason you fail to explain.

    Are you feeling what I am saying? You come off as a selfish dilettante in this mini-blog. I’m not LIKING you and I don’t even know you. I think you’re mean and petty. Of course, you’re not that, but that’s how I “read” you. YOu need to edit this diatribe and tell me why I should hate the poor clueless schmuck that you dumped because….why? He bored you? He was “immature?” (That’s how you come off, leaving your marriage when the going gets tough rather than try to work on it….).

    I have probably hurt your feelings, and for that, I have regret, but I’m probably not the only one who has this rather poor impression of you after reading your “Hell to the No” smart-talk rant. I am left feeling sorry for your kids, who have had their routine irrevocably disrupted and their father torn from them because you were….mad at him? Bored with him? Tired of him?

    Work on your essay. Give me a….REASON.

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