The military hearing for my ex-wife was yesterday. The outcome was different than I expected. Maybe not different from what I hoped for, but definitely from what I expected. There is little my ex-wife did through our relationship that I would consider honorable. But, there were also many choices I made through the relationship that were less than honorable as well.
I was called as a witness. I was questioned for about two hours. I did have to be in the same room as Danielle, retelling the horrifying events of January 10th to 11th that are explained in detail in my previous blogs. My right hand was asked to be raised, my fingers shaking without capability of control as I was sworn in. This was not something even my most outlandish dreams would have imagined I'd have to go through.
I sat down today to write, expecting to be angry. To my surprise, little anger resides in the aftermath of this two-year nightmare. To quote my victim's impact statement, that I read aloud in civilian court, just a few feet away from my abuser "...but still I do not wish anything ill toward you. It would be very easy to hate you, but I do not. My wish for you is that you take this as an opportunity to grow. That you can take accountability and admit what you did." While I do not believe the accountability of beating someone into a 6-week required medical leave from the concussion I was given will truly sink in with my ex-wife, I do still wish she is able to grow from the path she was made to walk through by me standing up and never wavering that what happened that night was wrong.
My goal when I started this journey was to speak my truth. That is it. Seeking revenge was never held in my heart or my body. What I wanted was for the Kristi in 3 years from now, 5 years from now, 10 years from now - to look back at every heart breaking and gut-wrenching step I had to take and be proud of myself. Have mistakes been made along the way? I have no doubt. Have I had moments or days or even weeks of anger? Of course, I am after all just human. But so is Danielle. We both made choices. Many of them unfortunately resulted in hurting one another. Love is a tricky game to play. There is a fine line between passion and obsession. And an even finer line between compromise and abuse. It's wildly easy to get taken advantage of by the person you love.
This is my story. There are SO many parts of it I sadly never had or never will have control over. But what I can do is choose to forgive. So, that is what I will do. Danielle, I forgive you. There is an incredibly amazing woman behind the hurt and pain that you project onto others. What I wish you could see is the unique vantage point that someone who has gone through so much is able to have. In one of my favorite "We Can Do Hard Things" podcasts this vantage point is referred to as rainbow fire. In the episode, Jenny Lawson shares how she thought her anxiety and issues were crippling. That something was "wrong" with her. She recalls sitting in a hotel room, her mental state not well - but when she looked out the window, due to her elevated view, she was able to see a rainbow shining in the reflection of the fountain that sat below. She watched in awe of its beauty, as people on ground level walked right by. Without a thought, without pause, without ever noticing or capable of seeing one of the most beautiful things she had witnessed. It was in that moment that Jenny Lawson realized, her anxiety was not her problem. It was not crippling. It happened to be the very thing that allowed her to see what most others would never have the opportunity to witness.
I wrote Danielle a letter once, while she was deployed. I shared with her this story - I told her the way I saw it, she was the rainbow fire.
Danielle may never get to look herself in the mirror and see the person I once believed in. For all I know, that person may not even exist. While I sit here typing, trying to remember the good, my mind is overtaken with the memory of that night. Her eyes looking into mine, solid black and full of rage. I know I cannot erase the memory of what happened, or undo the mistakes I made that hurt her as well. But what I can do is choose to no longer carry it. I am consciously setting down the heaviest parts of the past few years of my life. Neither of us entered this with ill intent. But actions speak louder than words and intent only goes so far. Our passion turned grave and before we knew it, we were both fighting for air, to merely stay above water. Each day was a struggle to breathe. Somewhere in that fine line of passion and obsession, compromise and abuse - we stifled our lungs, we strangled our individuality, we suffocated our love and sadly we both ended up drowning.
While I will never condone abuse in any way, I have also never claimed innocence in this story. I want to make that very clear, as I believe the purest form of strength lies within self-accountability. Danielle was far from perfect, but so was I. This journey has been harder than I could have imagined, but I am done drowning in the metaphorical water I've been stuck under with Danielle for so long. I choose to stand. I choose to let go. I choose to breathe air, by choosing to forgive.
Looking back now, after surviving such a traumatic experience, I am just now starting to realize that maybe Danielle wasn't the rainbow fire after all. Maybe she couldn't accept her beauty because she couldn't recognize the view. Maybe she is one of the people passing by, naively missing the magic that was right in front of her. And maybe, just maybe - I was one the one in the window the whole time. I have an odd ability to see beauty in the dark. I have discovered that my passion doesn't lie in others, but within my own truth. I can't speak for the Kristi years from now, but I can speak for the Kristi today. The one that survived a civilian and military hearing still standing - albeit with some tears in her eyes, but I am proud of her. I hope that one day, Danielle understands that the path I chose to stand, was never about her. Every step forged forward through the awful system that somehow claims justice, it was never because of her - it was always for me. I will leave this chapter of my life behind, releasing her hold over me and wishing her nothing but the best.
I choose to stand, even when that standing looks less boisterous and a little more quiet. Sometimes standing isn't being the taller person or the louder one. Sometimes standing looks a lot like sitting - in the top floor of a hotel, realizing that YOU were the rainbow fire all along.
No comments:
Post a Comment