A Trail of Ashes

We'd like to introduce writer Isela Washington, as she writes about the struggles and freedoms of recovery.

By Isela Washington

No words can describe the pain and despair I was in a year ago. I was dying. My soul was trying to escape from this body of a carcass it had been inhibiting. It seemed that I was the only one who could hear the muffled screams in my head.

I wanted to be happy and there were brief moments in my life as such. But I was never at peace. I was never okay in my own skin. No one hated me more than myself. I could not come to terms as to why my life was in such distress and chaos when I had everything that I had wanted.

I was married to a very loving, caring, funny and compassionate man. I had kids that other parents envied. I had in-laws that genuinely loved and cared for me. I had a great job. And while we we didn't have anything fancy, there was nothing that I was wanting or needing. There were moments in my life that I felt that my life just couldn't be any better.

I grew up with a father who was an alcoholic and a drug addict. My mother was very young and a victim of abuse, herself. Even though I suffered all sorts of abuse from my parents, I was able to conceal that from everyone. School was my refuge. I excelled through my school years and I loved how I was praised for good grades and my involvement with clubs, from school teachers. I was someone there. At home, I was nobody. I believed every hateful word my parents said to me, just as much as I believed every praise at school. At a very young age, I resigned to the idea that my life was going to be anything else than the way it was. I used to pray that my mom would leave my dad and stay away from him. But each time she would return and it would only get worse. I just knew that if we no longer lived with him, I would finally be happy.

My mom left my dad when I was 14. Surely, I was about to finally experience happiness. That dream was short lived. It actually never came. I was still living in fear of what this man could do to me and so I fathomed the idea that the only way that I would discover what being happy was all about was if he ever died. Three years later, on the night that we buried my father, I was getting my stomach pumped at the hospital with tar for trying to kill myself. I don't know why I did it; wasn't I supposed to be happy now that he was gone once and for all? I graduated the following year and I came to the realization that the only way that I would be happy was if I left my family. They were all my problem. Of course they were! And so I joined the military and left the country. I was exposed to a new culture, new people, money, men...all these things just came to me, but the more I searched for happiness in these, the further off I was from it.

After many failed relationships, I finally found the happiness I had so much longed for... in a man. He appeared fascinated by me. And I felt the same about him. Not only did I want him; I needed him. Little was I to know that 14 years later, he would be just as eager to divorce me, as much as he wanted to marry me, or that he would come to despise me just as much or more as he once loved me.

Shortly before we were married, I returned to the states with him to meet his family. I was in love! His family sat at the dinner table and they ate and talked and laughed...together. From that very moment, I just knew that I was going to be happy all the time. My happiness was guaranteed in acquiring his family. The next 14 years were good and bad. I remember more good than bad, but if you ask him, he'll probably tell you there were more bad than good. I couldn't tell you how or when, but not only was I no longer happy, I was more depressed than ever before in my life and I didn't understand why. It wasn't soon after that I started to blame my husband for my unhappiness. We had our problems, as any other married couple, I suppose. I had a very forgiving husband, all the while, I was slowly and steadily pulling him into my warped mind. He wasn't a bad husband, but I was convinced that he was the sole conspirator to my unhappiness.

Today, I can tell you that not only have I found happiness, but I am finally at peace. I have left a trail of ashes which has lead to this resurrected life that I now have.
In the issues to follow, I plan to share with you what happened to get me to the point of desperation, what I had to do in order to free myself from the bondage of myself and how I maintain a life of peace and harmony.