Love Song

Red peeling paint Jesus sign on the side of the road. arrow  pointing no where man. No where. No direction for us either. I never saw a sign of RG leaving. No peeling paint on the edges of our marriage that only lasted eight months. No peeling paint , nothing left out for the weather to ruin. Left out and left behind. Maybe I was the peeling paint, unloved and left out to ruin. Still I wonder if there was something I could say to fix what I didn't know was broken. But that summer I couldn't even fix what was broken in me. My PTSD. My broken record that no one wants to hear. My sad song of life that I can't stop from repeating. I wish instead I could give RG a love song. Some magical sweet melody that could remind him of everything good and kind about us. Remind him of huge home cooked meals. Simmering soups, perfuming the whole house, roasted chickens that he adored. Remind him of playing in the rain, kisses in the rain. Remind him when I drove him to work for three and a half years no matter what. That I just and still love him no matter what. Write him a love song that reminds him when our kisses were fireworks and birthday cake. The only kisses worth remembering my whole life. Something anything to take away his hate, make him remember when he didn't believe I was ugly and crazy.

Heart in a million pieces by Nate Maingard

Heart in a Million pieces by Nate Maingard

What is it about a song that the words can sink into your life and it just makes you think for days. In the song "Heart in a million pieces" by Nate Maingard writes:

"I don't think I can bear this again
My heart's in a million pieces"

With this song I think about is losing my husband over and over. The love of my life is gone, his hatred of me is huge. But I also think what if he came back? Could I survive this break up again? It took five people to keep me from being homeless. When I lost my husband I was evicted from our house and now live in the poorer side of town where I rent a room. Just a room. I was in a nice house with my nice husband with a big back yard now I am in a small room.

The gossip surrounding our break up traveled through parts of the nursing community in this small town. I was vilified and slut shamed. My PTSD because of my rapist wasn't the gossip that was repeated through the girl world at the hospital my hospital my husband works.  My depression at times is crippling. The air gets thick with it, it feels like the swamp air in the Chickahominy swamp in July. Since my rapist has spent his whole life working at grocery stores that's where I have panic attacks. Every time I have run into him for the last twenty five years it was at a grocery store. A simple run for milk and bread sometimes isn't so simple.

So here I am listening to this song and it does makes me think. I have told RG that if he could only forgive me I would marry him over and over a million times. He still hasn't divorced me yet, but his hatred is still there. He said things too mean to repeat. I cry going to the grocery store at times, and my name is a curse to him. I remember being a girl so long ago wanting to fall in love with my Prince Charming. A super hero that loved me so much that the mere sight of me took his breath away and he would have to say my name just to breathe. A million miles from that my husband despises me, and my rapist is working at the corner grocery store. 

I'm thankful for this song, this true artist. While I'm curled up scared of life, I watch his videos. I can barely go a mile up the road sometimes, but he travels and lives a fascinating life. Playing guitar from South Africa to London, Amsterdam. His talent impresses me. His lifestyle fascinates me. Well today I never left the house, but I did write today and I will cook something healthy, kinda like him.