I was young when I met the man I later married. I was naive. We all are at one point in time. We got married and I never really noticed there were issues until my daughter was born. When I was told, twice, that I wanted her, in her first six months of life I wondered how and if this was going to work.
Three and a half years later, I kicked him out. He had become verbally abusive and controlling. It wasn’t until I spent the summer of 2001 in the middle of Algonquin Park as camp nurse that I realized what was happening. I was able to look in on the situation. In early January 2002 I ended it.
It’s difficult for me, even now, to trust and not fear that someone might start to take advantage in the same way. I don’t want to end up there again. Sure, communication is key with the right person. The wrong person won’t want to hear it.
We all have life experiences and we all add those things, or in my case subtract them, to our writing. We can’t help it. In my writing, I don’t want my characters to be abusive. People read to escape. If they wanted reality they’d watch the news.
What happens when something similar is happening all over again? And what happens when it’s someone you thought you could trust?
I know I have been sharing a fare bit of unhappiness lately and it just keeps getting worse instead of better. I’ve been putting off the inevitable for over a year. It’s unfortunate that it’s the time of year that it is.
Anyway, I thought I might be able to hang in there but I think it’s time for me to revisit Algonquin Park. I’m sorry this is cryptic, it is what it is but, right now, I need it to be!