The Good Wife

The Good Wife

He told me he would love me forever. What he really meant was I belonged to him forever. I was his property. This wasn’t love, he was my owner. He was proud to have me because I was desirable to him. In his mind, that meant every other human with a penis wanted to fuck me. So it was his duty to “protect” me from the predators. He was the only one allowed to devour me. It started when he began escorting me home from school every day. Then he’d show up unannounced at my job. He was there to make sure my male co-workers didn’t rape me. Without him, how would I survive? No one loved me the way he loved me, no one ever could or would.

In return, I was expected to be his dirty little girl. He dressed me like a whore and used my body to prove his masculinity. He put two babies in my belly. How could I not love them? I was their mother. I devoted my life to them, trying to shut out the ugliness by which they were conceived. They were my purpose.

He groomed me over the years to be submissive. He taught me that it was my responsibility to make him happy regardless of my feelings, wants or needs. My family also groomed me to be a good wife, meaning my husband and children came first and my needs came last. My father told me that above all else it was my job to be a good mother and wife. So I strived to be just that in spite of the daily abuse, just like all the other good Catholic wives.

I loved those little people who came out of my body. They were everything. What I didn’t realize was that they were made more of HIM than of me. They were their father’s offspring and I was merely the vessel that produced them. It didn’t matter that I devoted my life to ensure their safety and security. It didn’t matter that I gave them a mother’s love, a love so fierce that I would have died for them. It didn’t matter that I traded my own safety and security to keep them safe and secure.

I invested my life in a sham. The husband, the children, the sisters, brothers and parents, they were all a sham. I didn’t fit the mold of a good Catholic wife and mother. I was violated in every possible way, emotionally, physically, sexually, even financially. I received the consistent message that I wasn’t worthy of real love. It was all conditional. And when I failed to meet those conditions, I was cut loose and the family moved on, lighter from the burden of me. They were free to follow the Catholic narrative of family without the dead weight of me bringing them down.

I’ve learned that the fierce love I carry inside me is precious and I am not willing to just give it away, not even to the beings that percolated inside my body. Not just anyone deserves my treasures. So I carry them like baggage to the people who I find worthy and I slowly unpack them hoping they accept me and my burden. I guard my love fiercely because I’ve learned that no one, even those I’ve personally propagated, has the freedom to confiscate my riches without investing their commitment in me.

The Good Wife

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