What causes a breaking point when enough is enough? When is enough, enough?
Was it the time that I said no to my first grade teacher because she wanted me to stand up so that she could hit me with a ruler in front of the whole class?
Was it when I was fourteen, my father was spanking my seven year old brother with a paddle again and again until I thought he might break him and I said, “Don’t you think he has had enough?” He asked, “Why, do you want some?” And as he passes me he smacked my behind with the paddle; he loved to attack when least expected. Was it any wonder the next time I knew I’d be in trouble I ran away? Was that, enough is enough?
Was it my father putting me in an apartment because his girlfriend didn’t want me in her house? Was it the time that my father picked up my brother to take him with his new family to Great America and left me behind? Is that why I finally said I didn’t want him at my wedding or to give me away? Was that, enough is enough?
Was it enough when he told my teenage daughter that she couldn’t lay that way because it was tempting him, that I refused to let him come around again.
Was it enough when my sister-in-law thought she could slap me in the face and walk away and I grabbed her wrists, shaking them with each word, “Don’t. Ever. Hit. Me. Again.”
Was it when my husband stayed out all night, and the next morning I called him at work and asked, “Now can I get my divorce?”
Was it when my sister used my children to get to me and I said, “No more, never again.” Was that enough is enough?
Was it when my mate of eleven years told me he was going to take the program off the computer as soon as I moved away from it because he didn’t think I knew how to use it properly? I decided in that moment I was done with him, that he wasn’t my father and wasn’t going to tell me what I could and couldn’t do, was that enough is enough?
Was it when a manager and I stood yelling at each other while he was telling me if I knew how to do my job I’d have found the folder, that wasn’t where it was supposed to be because he hadn’t assigned it to a new agent while the boss sat shuffling papers? And when the manager left the room the boss said calmly, “I don’t know why the two of you can’t get along.” I went to my office packed my things and walked out. Was that an act of, enough is enough!?
Was it when my mother assumed I’d clean her house, not would you clean my house, after years of her never cleaning and always having us kids clean up after her? I couldn’t sleep for all the anger just boiling under the surface and the next day I sent her an email telling her that I’d never clean her house again and she could clean it herself. Was that, enough is enough?
Was it when my girlfriend of four years wouldn’t even let me hug her without getting offended, let alone have any kind of intimacy, then came home and told me that her therapist said that it was our problem not her problem and she didn’t need therapy any more? I began making plans to leave that day knowing I could never be whatever it was she wanted me to be.
Was it when I decided to never speak to my mother again because she begged me to read a book that she loved and it was a vile, crude, and graphic sex book that I’d never have read (and she had assured me it wasn’t), let alone from my mother?
So many moments in my life how to choose just one; my whole life is enough is enough. I will not tolerate abuse of any kind. I am strong, independent, loving, creative, and if you can’t handle it then step aside; I am going to do what I came here to do and that includes heal my life.
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