When I was younger, I used to save birthday voicemails because I liked to play them over and over again. I would listen to my grandmother, grandfather, father, or mother sing to me, or say nice words to me over and over again because the sounds of their voices comforted me. That was always my fear - forgetting the sound of someone's voice. People's voices are so distinct that you can pick them out from a crowd if you happen to know the person.
Today, I was looking through all of my old voicemails and I found a voicemail from January 3, 2015. That was the day my entire life fell apart in front of my eyes. Like my birthday voicemails, I keep replaying the sound of a voice that hurt me so deeply, I will never look at love the same way again. The voicemail is him begging me: "Noreen please give me a phone call, please. Please? I'm sorry. I'm sorry about the whole mess. I can explain. Please? Please give me a call back."
There are a lot of words I could say to this particular person. Words of anger. Words of hate. I could tell him that when I looked into his eyes, I saw everything I ever loved about the world. I could tell him that the sound of his voice used to make my day day better. The sound of his car pulling into the driveway made my eyes bright, and my whole heart glow because I knew he would walk through the door in a matter of seconds. I remember I used to wait for him to walk in so that I could give him a kiss, and tell him about my day. I remember falling asleep with my hand in his hand. I could tell him that in one moment, he destroyed my entire view of love, and trust. I could tell him that finding emails he sent to random women with his penis made me sick. I could tell him how demeaning it was to see him call other women the pet name he used for me. I could tell him that ever time I think of him, all I feel is disgust. I could tell him I pity that he was so insecure about himself that he killed a relationship with a woman that truly loved him for all his bad (and there was a lot), and all his good.
I have a horrible case of T.M.D. Temporomandibular Joint Disorder and it is making my jaw hurt to think of him. That voice. that voicemail. So, I'm going to move forward…
Of all the words I could say to this person, there's only one that comes to mind: Thank you.
I was afraid to take risks because I was afraid. Now, I live in the moment. I learned to enjoy my own company. I learned to be responsible. Why? Because I didn't want to be that girl whose whole life could be destroyed over a voicemail, over an email, over you.
Now, I wake up every morning happy about my life, grateful for my career, and persevering. I'm dedicated to my work because I know that it's my hard work and dedication that made me get to where I am today. I learned to love myself.
My hair is a little shorter, I'm a lot blonder, I wear a little more make-up, I take more time on choosing outfits. I do it all for me. When I look in the mirror, I see a woman with goals. I see a woman who wants to help others because she believes in giving back to the community. I see a person that wants to change the world, one person at a time, and give them hope.
Now, when I look in the mirror my heart glows because I see a person that has accomplished so much at a young age. I am embarking on a new journey soon: home ownership, and I owe it all to you. Because had you not thrown me down into the gutter, I would't have learned to preserver. I wouldn't have learned to pick myself up, dust off the dirt, and leave it in the steps behind me.
But, mostly thank you to myself. I'm going somewhere in life and it's thanks to the supporters I have, the friends I've made, and my own perseverance. I'm not perfect, but I'll spend every day of my life doing what I can to help other people, and grow my career so that when I look in the mirror, I see a woman of whom I am proud. Hopefully, my parents, family, and friends will also see a woman of whom they can be proud.
