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Cleaning Out My Heart Rooms
There are a few more Sisterwives than you see here. Laura played a very large part in this blog coming to life. It is only fitting that she should be the first to post a submission here, although it doesn’t seem appropriate to refer to this as a guest post.
Laura is a part of our every day support group and, while we understand that she is busy working on other projects, she is with us….heart, mind, and soul. Her writing is exquisite, which you probably already know. If you don’t, you should.
Laura is, and will always be, a Sisterwife.
If I sit back and imagine the rooms of my heart, well, it’s not a pretty thing. I mean. There’s some scary shit in there. There are dark corners, locked doors, padlocked doors, triple padlocked doors…I mean, you’re not getting in some of those places. There aren’t Beware of Dog signs – there are Beware of Owner signs. Shoot, all my dog memories are pretty nice.
I like to open up my rooms.
I’m a writer, so I’ve found this way to open them up and start cleaning. I unpack a box at a time and when I’m done scraping away the dust and setting everything out pretty again, I’ve got a poem or a story sitting there all shiny and new and heavy with the weight of whatever darkness it’s now carrying.
Those are strong words. They heft the burdens. They make the pain in those places into something manageable.
My husband doesn’t write. I often wondered what he did with all those little rooms.
He was sitting across the dining room table from me when he told me about the time he was beaten with the metal head of a belt…about the blood that ran down his legs. I hurt so bad hearing it, I couldn’t finish my meal. He just told the story, empty of any embellishment, between bites of his food.
He was driving, as he usually does when we are going somewhere together. We had just found out that his father had died and we were on our way there to claim the body, when he told me the story about his father leaving him and his brother in a hotel room for four days. They were just children, terrified and alone, and hungry. Their father came back after a few days with a stripper he’d met and passed out on the couch. He told me about them going out for waffles later together and how good those waffles tasted after a few days of nothing but the crackers and cereal left in the hotel cabinets. Within the next hour, I watched him cry softly over the man who has failed to raise him.
We were lying in bed, his arm under my head so that my head was there across his chest. We’d been together for almost four years and our wedding date was fast approaching. The bedroom was pitch black and his breathing had steadied to the point that I thought he was asleep. His voice broke the silence suddenly, and he told me the story of the drunken man who hit his brother and how his neck had broken on the windshield, how he died before my husband could get there. When he finished, he rolled over and went to sleep and I stayed up half the night mourning a young man I never knew.
My husband had all these rooms and it bothered me that I felt he had no way to clean them out. Not like I did, at least.
Aren’t I so arrogant?
The whole time I was worrying over his rooms, he was opening the locks, emptying the boxes, giving me his stories.
Piece by hurtful piece.
Sure, they weren’t pretty poems or captivating prose. I take all my pain and wrap it up in the packaging of a writer. It makes it a bit easier to swallow.
I should know nothing about my husband is going to be easy. He gives me his stories, and finally, almost five years later, I started to write them for him.
He never asked me to. In fact, I was terrified he would be upset that I was doing it. The thing is, my heart has made rooms for him, and for his stories. I feel responsible for them. I have to clean them the way I know how.
I tried to explain that to him, to ease the blow up I was afraid would come when he found out that I was writing his stories.
“Do what you do…just remember, I was the good looking one,” he said.
Which reminds me of the only way we do have in common for this sort of cleansing…Inappropriate jokes and a lot of laughter.
I’m the liberal, pro-choice, pro-gay marriage, secular, outspoken feminist you were warned about.I haven’t traveled the world. In fact, I’ve never even been on an airplane. My upbringing has been a sheltered view in a static, rural town. But I’ve lived enough lives for twelve people. I’ve gone through stages of names, tearing them off like a badge on my shirt and replacing them just as easily. I’ve got battle scars.
I didn’t wage war against domestic abuse. My fight or flight kicked in and I ran. I hid, cowering and broken, and spent years trying to get the needle threaded, to stitch the holes in the patchwork quilt of my self-esteem. I never fought the demons of drug abuse and alcoholism. I spent weeks on my sofa, weak and thin, while my mother made me grilled cheese sandwiches and I tried to figure out if I wanted to live or get high.
I survived my teenage years, not by resilience, but by pure luck that my attempts to end it were never fruitful. I didn’t learn to love me until every man I’d chosen had managed to redefine “love” as some twisted, ugly thing. Loving myself was never pretty. I wasn’t the hero in my story, I was the human. And this human is writing that story and she’s got a hell of a lot to say.
Laura A. Lord is the founder of History of a Woman. She is the author of Wake Up a Woman, History of a Woman, The Telling, and Perjury. Lord has also authored a children’s book, The T-Rex That Ruined My Day. She is currently working on a collection of poetry about her hometown’s summer festival.
To connect with Laura, which we highly recommend, you can find her
Twitter: @LauraAshleyLordInstagram: @historyofawomanBlog: historyofawoman.com
I love this post in every way. It really touched me. Thank you for writing it and sharing it with us. Now I’ma go find a place for this lump in my throat.
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I’m so glad you enjoyed it and that it touched you.
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Well written and touching. Love is such a wonderful thing. It is wonderful to have found someone with whom you both can share the dark corners of eachothers heart.
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It’s so important, I think, in a relationship to be able to trust your partner with those sorts of things. I put many of my “dark corners” out there in my writing, but there are certainly things that I only share with him. It’s like a judgement free zone, a safe place.
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This is beautiful and sad and scary. I always viewed my rooms as boxes..maybe they need rooms.
I’m glad you and your husband have each other. It’s good to have someone you can give your sad painful stories to, then they aren’t as heavy to carry around.
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Thanks Michelle. I think however we picture those spaces inside us, it’s just as important to clean them out as it is to share them. I’m lucky to have a man that can help me with that and trusts me to help him.
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The tenderness you show with your husband is so sweet. I love that he shares these things with you….because you’re safe. That’s really beautiful
I often wonder how non-artists purge painful emotions or express anything. It’s kind of fascinating how different people are.
This was incredible, Laura.
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Thank you! It was kind of neat to sit back and realize that this was his way of dealing. I mean, as a writer, I doll everything up with embellishment. He just spits it out randomly and it always takes me a moment to catch up with what’s happening. I suppose it is a good thing we don’t all handle our pain the same way. What a boring world that would be.
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**The whole time I was worrying over his rooms, he was opening the locks, emptying the boxes, giving me his stories.
Piece by hurtful piece.**
I loved every. single. word.
You are a beautiful, inspiring couple!!
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Thank you so very much. 🙂
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this was beautifully written and touching. you are both lucky to have that trusted person you can share and purge with. inspiring.
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Thank you so much.
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I’m so very grateful I discovered writing, because since then I’ve been able to purge things like this from my system. I had no way to do so before. Or maybe I did, but I wasn’t aware of it.
It seems like you are his outlet, like writing is for you. It’s good that you can provide that for him.
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After so much therapy, writing gave me everything the doctor never could. I’m glad you found writing, too!
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Without it I’d have never met you or the other wonderful people I have met through WP. BONUS!
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And that’s love. Being willing to take in some of your partner’s poison so they don’t have to bear quite so much of it alone. But if you get twice the pain, I think you get at least four times the happiness. 🙂
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True story! It is wonderful to have someone to share both the good and bad with.
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You know I love this piece and how wonderfully you write. I also love how beautiful you are together. Love is truly a wonderful thing to have and I am so glad you have each other. You two are an example of how a marriage should be, together you are stronger! Love you xoxo
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Thanks, Hasty! I’m a lucky woman 😀
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Freakin’ awesome… I am spending way too much time here being totally speechless… that ain’t like me… what are you all doing to me? Even the crack squirrels in my head are subdued… I did a serious post about the Gaza Strip situation lately…. are you trying to improve me without me being aware of it?
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Bwahahahaha We are manipulating you and you didn’t even realize it!
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women are always doing that to me… I sort of like it…
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While I like to write, I don’t much care to write about my own past, when the content is depressing. I have less of that in my past than a lot of peopole, so for that I’m lucky. I do what your husband does and it drives my wife batty. I’ll just recall something that’s sitting there on my brain and blurt it out to her while we’re doing something completely unrelated and catch her off guard. She’ll ask a question or two and we’ll be done with it. She, like you for your husband, knows just what response we want or don’t want. It’s good to get our stories out, even if it takes decades of marriage, thousands of quiet moments with the one we love most at a time to do it. I’m glad you’re writing his down and that he’s a good sport about it. He sounds like a dude I would love to hang out with, though I’d have to be the handsome one in any future stories told about our night out. Lol.
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His stories always catch me off guard. It’s like a bad case of whiplash, and I always struggle for a moment to catch up. But like your wife, I either say nothing, or just ask a few questions and let it go. It takes a little while to figure out the best way to handle it, but he is a really good sport about my writing. He understands that’s how I deal.
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It is more difficult for guys in our society. We are taught to deal with pain on our own. We are slowly being allowed to express a little more emotion, but not very much. That your husband allowed you to share this with us– I find that a great honor, and a virtuous gesture.
I do mean it, because I am facing great pain again now from past abuse, and… it’s lonely. I am violating cultural expectations in even talking about it. We need women to speak in our behalf, so, Laura, you are doing us a great favor.
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This “be a man” sensibility is so hurtful. I’m thankful that my husband has enough trust in me to open up. I’m sure Cim is there for you as well.
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Aye, she is.
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I love that you support him so much – that you take him into your own heart and protect his stories there. That’s a beautiful thing, and the two of you are a good team because of it.
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Thank you! We work well together.
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I love the metaphor of heart rooms. I have always wondered what people who aren’t writers do with their stories. I suppose they always come out one way or another.
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I suppose they would have to, in a way? I mean, leaving them inside can cause such bitterness.
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Awesome. Powerful. Compassionate. Beautiful. Spare. As always.
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Thank you very much. 😀
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This is a beautiful love story.
I love that you guys use humor to deal with the hard stuff. Inappropriate humor can help take the edge off. I don’t know how I’d get through some heavy stuff if I couldn’t laugh at the absurdity. I just loved this….
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Humor is our saving grace. We’d certainly be the pair in the funeral home chuckling about something or another. It’s how we deal together and I’m thankful for that in each of us.
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How very touching that he entrusted all these stories to you and that you lovingly made room for him! My heart goes out for the two little kids!
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Thank you! He’s a good man.
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This is so beautiful and touching.
Well done on making rooms instead of shutting them. You two are obviously meant to be together.
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Thank you so very much. I’m so thankful he has this trust in me.
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Beautiful! (he said, wiping away a tear) I have no problem carrying another’s pain but struggle greatly with burdening anyone else (including my Queen) with mine…that your husband has this in you is testament to the world you have created for him. He is one fortunate man indeed and I envy him somewhat.
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I don’t think he would do it if he thought it would stress me. He is very aware of how I deal with things, and is careful in that way.
Gotta say…kinda awesome that I made you get all emotional 😀
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So touching Laura! Top to bottom. The photo of you two is so sweet and I love your bio at the end. With all due respect, you are one badass woman I am proud to know!
xoxo
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Thank you, Sandra! I love that photo of the husband and I. We took that at the movie theater and you can see the ticket booth in his sunglasses hahahaha!
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Beautiful love, beautiful prose, beautiful spirits (his and hers, both.) Turning the ugly that mars into beauty that nourishes. Thank you for opening your rooms to the rest of us.
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Thank you so much for your support and kind words.
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I’ve been at my computer this morning, trying to “catch up”. This story was in my inbox waiting. I took a minute to prepare a “proper” breakfast, set the frying pan upon the burner and returned here to read your words.
I didn’t mind eating the burned omelet:)
Thank you for sharing your love story.
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Ahhh your poor omelet! So glad you stopped by though and that it was worth a charred breakfast.
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Hello,
I often wonder how people release their pain when they do not have a creative outlet. Us creative types are lucky we can openly lay our pain out as art.
I love in your bio you say “I wasn’t the hero in my story, but the human.” The phrase was a lightbulb for me. A hero or a human, I like the human option more.
Tahnee
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I suppose everyone deals with things differently. I’m thankful I have my writing.
And I never was the spandex and cape type 🙂
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Laura, thank you so much for writing for us. I read this back when it was submitted, and I had a hard time coming back to read it again because since you and I have become friends, I’ve grown to love your family through you, and to hear about your husband suffering so much really reached deep into my heart. I felt pain for you, for him. My father was severely abused as a child, to the point where he would have to stay home from school because of the bruises, and when I hear of someone else suffering that kind of childhood, I want to form a vigilante and go after the person who did it.
I’m glad he has you and that you can help him tidy up those heart rooms. As for you, when you clean out your heart rooms, you create beautiful prose. I’m still blown away by Wake Up a Woman.
And yes, you are and always will be a sisterwife.
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We have all learned so much about one another…these sorts of things can be hard. Thank you for your support though. I’m so glad you enjoyed my book!
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