Naleighna Kai's Literary Cafe Magazine January 2018 New Year, New You | Page 10

Confessions
OF A PeaceKEEPER
The beginning of 2017 came in like a lion pouncing on
its prey, announcing the first of changes that would begin
a new chapter of my life.
The first Thursday of the New Year I woke up excited.
After my morning shower ritual, I dressed with
intention—close-fitting sweater, a pair of black fashion
leggings, and high-heeled boots. Box braids were pulled
into a high bun on my head, and makeup was flawless.
Before leaving out of the front door, two sprays of Dolce
and Gabanna Light Blue on a black and white scarf,
finished with a black leather hip-length coat. “Victory Is
Mine” was the old church song I hummed all the way to
the courthouse.
The wind was crisp enough to make my eyes tear up, as
I walked from the place I parked and toward the building.
My pace was brisk, but not enough to miss my soon-to-
be ex-husband standing by a pillar in the same parking
structure. He, too, was looking quite dapper—he always
knew how to dress like a million dollars though I never
saw one penny of that look. He caught the glance that I
threw him and I kept it pushing—there was nothing to
be said.
Michael* had pleaded with my lawyer to talk me into
reconciling. One look from me and she understood all
too well that I was far beyond interested in reuniting with
him. You only get one time to put your hands on me in
an effort to control me.
Yes, our marriage ended the moment he wrapped his
hands around my neck.
Our twenty-plus year relationship had been on a
decline since the beginning, but being young and dumb
and full of …. (Well, let’s just say the sex was good,
and I let certain treatment slide). Michael was a binge
alcoholic, but good sex and a seemingly heartfelt apology
10 | NKLC Magazine
MarZe Scott
So many people live within unhappy circumstances and
yet will not take the initiative to change their situation
because they are conditioned to a life of security, con-
formity, and conservation, all of which may appear to
give one peace of mind, but in reality, nothing is more
damaging to the adventurous spirit.
-- Christopher McCandless
about staying out all night and calling me everything but
my given name were sufficient for me to remain in the
relationship. I mean, every couple has its ups and downs,
right? And then the kids came.
Now, to be honest, Michael wasn’t the worst kind of
man, or so I thought. He went to work and paid the bills
(kind of); he was a good father to our children, a great son
to his parents, and reliable brother to his siblings. I knew
that a man had to figure out how to be a good husband to
his wife. So I had patience.
I knew that I didn’t do everything right, but should he
point out my every error? Did he need to say that I was
ignorant, especially in a debate where his points were
neither solid nor valid? Should he have questioned my
every move to church and back? I became the sole reason
for his drinking binges and the sole proprietor of every
problem in our marriage. But he could always be worse,
right? He wasn’t a cheater (I had no proof of it anyway). I
could put up with the tantrums and the name-calling. He
never called me the B word, but I’ve been called a Jezebel.
I’m a big girl, no big deal; there was no truth to what he
said.
Dealing with his eccentric behavior and trying to make
sure that he was comfortable enough to not blame me
for his insecurities was my attempt at creating a healthy
relationship. I built a life of comfort that never seemed
comfortable enough for him. Equally, I constructed a wall
for myself so that his words and erratic behavior didn’t
wear me out. At one point in time within our marriage, I
didn’t cry about anything for seven years. Yes, my wall was
fortified with metal and concrete. Nothing moved me, at
least not to the point of tears.
One of the Beatitudes in the Bible states, “God bless the
peacemakers for they shall be called the Sons of God.” Do