Leaving is Not Enough

"leaving is not enough; you must
stay gone. train your heart
like a dog. change the locks
even on the house he’s never
visited. you lucky, lucky girl.
you have an apartment
just your size. a bathtub
full of tea. a heart the size
of Arizona, but not nearly
so arid. don’t wish away
your cracked past, your
crooked toes, your problems
are papier mache puppets
you made or bought because the vendor
at the market was so compelling you just
had to have them. you had to have him.
and you did. and now you pull down
the bridge between your houses,
you make him call before
he visits, you take a lover
for granted, you take
a lover who looks at you
like maybe you are magic. make
the first bottle you consume
in this place a relic. place it
on whatever altar you fashion
with a knife and five cranberries.
don’t lose too much weight.
stupid girls are always trying
to disappear as revenge. and you
are not stupid. you loved a man
with more hands than a parade
of beggars, and here you stand. heart
like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas.
heart leaking something so strong
they can smell it in the street.”
- Frida Kahlo

The things I learned when I was 17 about love were the things that have shaped every relationship I had after that: for better or worse. Things I have had to unlearn and unlearn and unlearn. A thousand times and then some. 

Be subservient. Be quiet. Don’t cause too much trouble. At best, your feelings and emotions aren’t important. At worst, don’t trust anything you feel. Don't trust yourself. Don’t trust men. Second guess everything you do, because you're not REALLY that smart. Those books don’t mean anything in real life. Give of yourself in every way and don’t ask for anything in return. Your needs are not important. Your pleasure is not important. His is. Everyone else’s needs come first. Don't be selfish.
 
I want to take 17 year old me (and then, also, 18, 19, 20, and 21 year old me) and I want to hold her. I want to tell her that it doesn’t have to be this way. That love isn’t angry. Love isn’t imbalanced. Love isn’t threatening or violent. Love doesn’t strangle you. Literally or figuratively. I want to tell her that the boy she finds so interesting, the one who REALLY pays attention to her for the first time in her life, is not representative of the people who will deserve her attention. I want to tell her that accepting attention from a boy, who will eventually make her feel bad in every way, isn’t necessary. I want her to pay attention to herself. To give herself what she needs. To stop latching on to men who have families they try to sell as “better than yours”. ALL FAMILIES ARE FUCKED UP. 
 
I want to tell her that she will find a way to dig through all the things that made her believe she wasn’t worthy of more. That she will one day understand how all of that connects to the things that she will choose to let into her heart. To all of the relationships she will have. With people. With jobs. With material things. I want to tell her that she will eventually figure out how to break that cycle. It will take her decades. But finding a real love without the hurt will be worth every bit of the struggle it took to get there. 
 
I want to tell teenaged Kate that eventually she won’t need to look beyond herself to be whole. And happiness will NEVER be found in one person. Except maybe in herself. Not in an angry, possessive, violent man. Leave when you’re 17. Not when you’re over 21 and your lives are so intertwined it feels impossible to go. Leave before you learn all of the things that will shape you in ugly ways. 
 
I want to tell her to stop crying. Stop fighting. Stop going back. Stop sleeping in her car to get away from him. Just stop. Stop. Stop. And then? Go. Don't look back. 
 
I want to tell her that one day that boy she thought she knew will get so angry and he will hurt someone so much that it will end an innocent life. I want to tell her that he really does have that capacity. A little push here and a little yelling there. A phone cord around the neck. All of those little things will turn into a gun pointed at a woman's head. A murder. He WILL eventually do all those things he threatened. When someone tells you who they are, believe them the first time. 
 
One day he will commit a crime so heinous that even he won’t believe it. 
 
And then, I want to tell 17-year-old Kate that she will have some closure. That one day, she will be there to see his face when he is told that he will never, ever do it again.