I Don’t Want To Write This, So I’m Writing This.

I didn’t think I was going to write here again. I have been hard at work on my new site (hoping it will be live next week, woo hoo!) But I’ve been thinking every day about writing what I’m about to write. I really don’t want to write it. But I think I need to write it. Especially after reading this post by the fab Ali Martell this morning, and what a brave thing her daughter did. Go read it. It’s awesome. I’ll wait.

Okay, so now back to me. Here’s what I need to write.

It’s about Rihanna. And Chris Brown. Obviously.

If you know me at all, you know that I left an abusive marriage after fourteen years. After being with him for a total of seventeen. It took me that long to get out. To be strong. To stand up for myself and my girls. And I wish I could say why. I wish I knew why I stayed so long. But I don’t. I can speculate, and guess, and whatever. But the bottom line is, I have no clue.

My girls know that their father is an alcoholic and has problems with drugs. They do not know the rest. We haven’t talked about it. I don’t know if they need to know.

But we HAVE talked about the Chris Brown/Rihanna situation. We’ve deleted all his songs from our iPods and phones. We didn’t watch the Grammys. We change the station if his song comes on. We talk about what he did. And of course both girls ask the question, WHY DID SHE GO BACK TO HIM? IS SHE CRAZY?

And my answer? I don’t know.

It’s not a good one, I know that. But I don’t have another one for them. I just say…..I can’t answer that for her. Only she knows why she’s back with him.

But you know what? She may not know.

She got away from him once. So did I. Well, not Chris Brown, that other asshole I was married to. After two years of dating, I left my ex after he put bruises over half my body. We lived together. I moved out. I LEFT TOWN. I started over.

About four months later, he followed me. Apologized. We were getting along. HE FOLLOWED ME. I felt so loved. Wanted. Needed. We were married a year later.

It never got better. Never. It ended with a separated shoulder. And I got off easy, compared to some.

I know why I left. I left for my girls. I wanted better for them. I still want better for them. I wanted to show them I was strong. I was. I am.

But to this day, I can’t tell you why I went back to him that first time. Why I stayed as long as I did after. Why I married him.

My only answer? I don’t know.

Maybe Rihanna doesn’t either.