|I often wonder how the dreams|
of my own little girl will turn out.
And so began my performance. My need to control the outcome was great because I perceived it as a reflection of my own worthiness. But all my striving could not produce the desired dream.
I crafted a life that I thought would fulfill my dream: a handsome man with prestigious ambitions, a comfortable home which I could fill with pretty things and well-behaved children. And it looked good for a while. But the whole time, I knew it was an illusion. I knew the handsome man battled demons and our relationship was weak. I knew the façade we presented to others didn't hold up when were alone. The hope for children was met with the despair of miscarriages and infertility. The desire for a loving marriage turned into disappointment and the feeling I would never be enough: not interesting enough, not pretty enough, not sexy enough, not good enough.
I truly did believe my little girl dreams were just that, dreams from another time. I accepted so much less than I had hoped for because the dream no longer seemed possible. I shriveled and didn't let people get close enough to see my disappointment. I withered and forgot what it was like to dream.
But one day, I could no longer keep up the show. The actions of my then-husband brought others into our marriage and it was necessary to bring light into the darkness of our home. I cannot describe the devastation of betrayal, the consequences of living in isolation and how admitting the dream was gone evoked enormous loss. On that day, I knew my story would never be what I once dreamed.
Everything had changed.