The Unlonely Lady-An Introduction

If you are reading this and you found this site, you might be looking for some answers or clarity into your own situation; You also might be someone that knows me and watched from afar as my life imploded and you’re here out of morbid curiosity to hear the whole story. I wouldn’t blame you. It’s quite the salacious story…if it isn’t happening to you. 

For a long time, I kept telling myself we were just in a rough patch. Then it was another rough patch. Then it was the kind of chaos you learn to manage so well, you almost forget it isn’t normal. Almost…except in moments of clarity when something awful happens and you have to reckon with the truth of your situation and that usually brings the soul crushing shame and sadness of the situation you and your children are in. 

Here’s the truth I didn’t want to say out loud for a very long time: He struggled with substance abuse for as long as I knew him and for years he kept it just barely contained—functional enough that I could explain it away, and hidden enough that other people rarely saw what I lived with. He didn’t have one obvious “thing,” which made it easy for him—and sometimes for me—to pretend it wasn’t alcoholism or addiction. But “functional” doesn’t mean safe. It just means private. Maybe it would have been better if he did have one particular vice he couldn’t put down. At least it would have made it harder for him to deny there was a problem, which is something he still does to this day from his prison cell…or so I’ve been told. There’s a restraining order in place and we are no contact. 

To most people, he could be incredibly charming—funny, friendly, the guy who would help you carry groceries without being asked or show up to help you move. He was that way to me in the beginning, too. In many ways he saved me when I needed someone most. But in time and at home, it was different. Alcohol made him mean in a way I don’t think many others witnessed, other than close friends, who know who they are. The names. The cruelty. When it was bad, it was AWFUL. But at first, that was few and far between, until it wasn’t. 

When I was a kid, I remember reading about how if you put a frog in a pot and turn the heat on, it won’t jump out, but it will slowly boil itself to death. It doesn’t realize that the temperature is going up because it happens gradually. That was me. I was the frog. Things got worse very slowly, and I didn’t realize how bad it was getting when it was happening. Over time, the bad nights stopped feeling like exceptions and started feeling like weather—something I checked for before I made plans. Isolating myself became a matter of survival. If I was the only one around the behavior, only I would be the one to see it. Family events and holidays made me a nervous wreck and he usually found a way to ruin them for me. 

And yes—there were moments that crossed into abuse. Shoving. Throwing things. Breaking my belongings. Isolating me. Once, he left me stranded in Baton Rouge and took my keys back to Mississippi for three days because he was angry. The hard part to explain, if you’ve never been in it, is how you can survive something like that and still wake up the next morning determined to make it work, make it look fine.

 For years I have asked myself the same question: Why did I stay? I’ve learned that the answer is rarely one clean sentence. It’s love and fear and loyalty and hope. It’s financial pressure and parenting and the belief that if you just try harder, you can steady the ship. It’s the slow erosion of self-esteem that happens when your life becomes one long strategy session: what to say, what not to say, how to keep the peace. 

I don’t hate him. I am sad for my girls, for me, for him, and for what has become of my little family. I hate what has become of his life and if I stop to think about it, it crushes my soul for the man he used to be to know the person he has become. It all seems so unnecessarily tragic but for whatever reason, this is our path to walk and I am determined to give my girls and myself a beautiful life in spite of the cards we have been dealt. This path has not been easy, but I am finally at a place that I am proud of where the girls and I are and am ready to talk about where we have been. 

I wanted to do something to make lemonade out of these lemons. The last time I spoke to him, it was horrific. It was my daughter’s birthday and when I was out of the room and he started telling her how he was “worried” about me and how sad and LONELY I was. He told her I have no friends and do nothing but work and that he felt sorry for me. He didn’t say this from a place of feeling guilty for his role in creating my life as a single parent. He didn’t express remorse for abandoning his family and leaving me holding the roles of mom and dad and the sole responsibility to care for our children physically, financially, and emotionally. He said it in a smug, judgmental way. It wasn’t concern; It was criticism. He may as well have said “bless her heart” at the end of it. 

If you know my oldest, the passive aggressive attempt to make his life sound more exciting and better than mine was not missed on her. She is too sharp for that. She fiercely came to my defense and they argued. That is when I walked into the room and asked what was going on. She told me and things blew up from there. The short version is that the police were called and it resulted in an indefinite order of protection against him. He cannot contact us, even through third parties, and he cannot come within 1500 feet of us. This has given my girls and me some much-needed peace and allowed us to start to heal. 

Other than the trauma of this playing out on my child’s birthday and just generally the drama of it all, what bothered me most about this (personally) is how wrong his perception is of me and where my life is now. I am not lonely. I have friends. I do more than work (though I do absolutely work an insane amount). My life is so much fuller than it was when I was married because I am not living in survival mode while trying to manage another adult’s emotions, mental illness, and addictions, while trying to protect my children, build my career, provide for the family, keep everyone safe, and hide all of this from everyone we know. Just typing that all out is exhausting. I can’t believe I lived it for as long as I did. 

It still shocks me that he looks at my life now—living in my own home, working my dream job with the absolute best work family I could have asked for, and having a job that comfortably takes care of my children and me and now he thinks my life is pathetic. Things aren’t perfect but my girls and I have a lot of fun. We have our cozy home and pets that we are obsessed with. We travel a lot and have started going to church. They are doing well in school and finally seem emotionally regulated. I work for the best bosses to ever exist, and I have some of the most supportive friends I’ve ever had. This is the happiest and most at peace I have felt, maybe ever. He looks at me and sees a pathetic, lonely, workaholic single mom. The disconnect is staggering. To me, it’s also proof of how far he is from reality, which then makes me sad. It’s a vicious circle. 

So, I created this…brand, if that’s even what it is. It’s in the very beginning stages so I don’t even know the exact purpose yet other than telling my story and owning it (for the first time) but the idea of it is “I AM NOT LONELY.” I am less lonely than I have ever been. I am hopeful for the future for the first time in a very long time. I have hard days, but I am happy and there was absolutely a time when I thought I never would be again. So, I have defiantly called this blog “Tales of the Unlonely Lady.”   I will post my story at a pace and level of transparency that I feel honors my story, while also keeping in mind that I have to protect my girls. I will also do my best not to make this journey about dragging my ex-husband. Though he is mostly to blame for being the architect of his own demise, I have zero desire to do him any harm or cause him any unnecessary distress. I still root for him from afar and hope one day I can be proud of his comeback. Crazier things have happened, but I refuse to tie any of my mental health or happiness to his story any longer or to allow my girls any further trauma because of his actions. 

If any of this resonates with you (or if you are here for entertainment purposes only), I will be telling more detailed versions of the chaos that has taken place the last ten years or so and sharing some of the hard-won lessons I have learned. Getting this out, even if no one reads it, is part of my own healing process to no longer feel ashamed of our story. 

You may be wondering why I have created the merch—First, I like wearing it as a badge of honor of reclaiming my life. I have also gotten surprisingly positive reactions and comments from strangers, especially to my “Delightfully Divorced” t-shirt recently when we were on vacation. I think what I have experienced in the last 10 years is not a unique journey and perhaps others will resonate with the slogans and want to wear them too. I truly believe that financial hurdles are one of the top reasons people stay trapped in unhealthy relationships for as long as they do, so my ultimate hope is that I will be able to use profits to help a few people leave their situation and create a new life, like I did. 

I am eternally grateful that I was in a position to be able to comfortably support my girls and me, and I know that is not the experience for many women. I am forever grateful for my job and my bosses and will always feel lucky to work where I do. I owe so much of my life today to my job, bosses, and co-workers. If any of you are reading this, thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of the support you have given me. It made all of the difference.

So, I’m not sure how long I will do this or how far this will go, but if it reaches just one person who is struggling, it is worth it.

Thank you for being here and stay tuned…

Brooke