At some point during my marriage, my house - my home - became my own personal hell. Rather than being a place of love and comfort, it became a place of fear.
I no longer felt safe.
I wasn't in physical danger. In that way, I was lucky. My ex-husband never physically abused me. However, I still did not feel safe.
Looking back, I can see how over time I turned into a robot of sorts. I would come home and retreat to the one place I felt secure: my bedroom. That became my haven - my cave. That became where I lived my life - or rather went through the motions of my life - when there wasn't something I had to accomplish elsewhere.
In fact, my ex-husband, my kids and I each seemed to withdraw into our own caves. He had his office and the garage. The kids had their bedrooms and the basement. I had the master bedroom.
On Friday nights, instead of having family or game night, sharing meals together, or even engaging in conversation, we each retreated to our respective corner of the house. That's where we would eat, drink, talk on the phone, watch tv, read, or do whatever it was that we wanted to do without the others.
Looking back, I can see so many signs that it was a home that was broken. We were a family that was broken.
At the time, I was so consumed by my fear of losing what I thought I wanted, losing the love of the man I thought I needed, that I didn't see how I was really losing myself. Looking back, I see myself as if watching an old silent movie. I see myself withdrawing further and further into my bedroom, my bed, myself. Shutting the door on the reality that was silently destroying me.
None of us needs to hide. On the contrary. We deserve to shine.
Are you hiding in plain sight?
Maybe it's time to pull back the covers and step into the light.
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