Hey there, little one. Yes, you—you with your chubby little toes and long, curly auburn hair. The little being filled with dreams and aspirations for a bright, beautiful future. A future brimming with endless possibilities, as infinite as the deep, blue magnetic sea you used to gaze at as a little girl in Hawaii.
I see you, and what I am writing now is for you. I owe you an apology. If I scribble outside the lines or go too far, I’ve learned it’s okay. Life isn’t meant to be perfect; more importantly, neither are we.
While navigating this journey, I somehow left you behind—the confident little girl with all her hopes and dreams. It didn’t happen overnight. It was so subtle I could not see it. Instead of nourishing those big dreams and aspirations, life simply happened. That deep, magnetic sea of endless possibilities slowly shrank into something small and trite, and I lost my way.
What I mistook for a life vest was nothing more than false promises, and I clung to them hook, line, and sinker. In searching outside myself instead of anchoring within, I set my life on the wrong path. My instincts dulled by over-the-top grand gestures, love letters, lavish trips, and extravagant gifts—all laced with promises of a magical future. In time, those illusions gave way to the reality of a toxic, codependent nightmare, and I slowly lost myself.
I allowed that life vest of false promises to become my lifeline. I abandoned my self-worth the moment I stepped away from my “no longer needed” career while his company thrived. I surrendered pieces of myself trying to earn the love of his children, who seemed determined to misunderstand me. I meant my vows, and they were included in them. My efforts were genuine, yet met with disdain. Their father’s love language was money- he threw it at every discomfort- and I tried, in vain, to show them another way. The more money he made, the more unhinged everything became.
Out of fear, I made choices that led me to subjugate myself to nearly a decade of a toxic waste zone of infidelity, chronic lies, gaslighting, and manipulation.
As the old adage goes, it all comes out in the wash — and it did. My vice of drinking wine was always in the open. His were more nefarious, at strip clubs and hidden behind closed hotel doors. And as the decade of receipts stacked higher, the pattern became clear: this wasn’t new. He had indulged the same way throughout his first marriage, too. With money, being the ultimate drug.
His work trips were his freedom card. Every departure was a ticket out of the life we shared, a hall pass to indulgence behind those closed doors.
Except for Thursdays. But we had the girls every Thursday- I thought to myself. The receipts were clear. Those Thursday hotel visits were here in town, during the day.
The gaslighting over the years—“you’re paranoid, crazy, connecting dots that aren’t there”—was so convincing that it pushed me straight into outpatient therapy, determined to stop doubting my own mind and somehow save the marriage. But those dots, were red flags.
The escort site and pornography I found on his phone early on were dismissed with, “you’re imagining things… I am not a sexual deviant. I think you might have borderline personality disorder.” My best friend’s boudoir photos—sent from my own iPad to his phone—were twisted into “you must have accidentally sent them, so I laughed it off and sent them to a friend, joking about how ridiculous she looked.” I had been conditioned to question my instincts at every turn.
Throughout our entire marriage, I was trained to second-guess myself while he quietly did his own work. For the last two years, the top divorce attorney in Houston sat on retainer, methodically planning his escape, while I sat in therapy trying to hold together a life he had already decided to leave. —because having an opinion, following the money, or being anything other than a quiet, kept woman was apparently against the rules.
While I was holding a marriage together, he was auditioning replacements. That’s the currency of men who can’t stand their own reflection-new supply, always waiting. He didn’t attract women- he purchased them. And as for the women who queued up behind me, they weren’t bringing any nobility into the equation. They were simply proof that there’s always someone willing to trade character for a piece of someone else’s life.
I’m sorry for not recognizing that letting go would have been the greatest gift I could have given myself, rather than settling for a life of deceit and false security. Deep down, I knew better, but I didn’t listen to my intuition. I surrendered my independent nature in exchange for what I thought would be a partnership of love and safety, and in doing so, I gradually lost the fire in my spirit and the zest for life.
I lived in such denial, gripping tighter with every warning sign. My gut screaming that something was so profoundly wrong, but I refused to let go. In the process, I lost all dignity — not only to walk away, but to run. Instead, I clung, trying to control my surroundings, terrified that if I let go, I would drown in the chaos of the life I had chosen.
I didn’t know up from down when that life jacket was ripped from me, and the threat of drowning was fierce. It felt like an existential vacuum, one that drained every fiber of my being. Yet I was a strong swimmer. Thankfully, my parents had taught me how to survive the rockiest of waters. All I had to do was remember.
My promise to myself moving forward is never to question my gut instinct again. It is powerful beyond measure and always on point. I know now that no betrayal is worse than ignoring my own intuition. I promise to own my inner strength and never seek refuge outside myself again.
I promise to start each day with gratitude for the life lessons that have shaped me into the woman I am today. Those hard lessons will not be in vain. I will remind myself daily how deserving I am of all the good life has to offer, and I will trust that I can handle whatever comes my way. I have worked hard to reclaim my life and will never abandon myself again.
And if I ever find myself clinging to someone or something outside of myself as a life vest, I will let it go gracefully. I promise to swim deeply in the beautiful sea of life, secure in myself, without needing the safety of anyone or anything else.
I know now that you, little one, are my inner guidance, and I will always listen.
“You are not a drop in the ocean; you are the entire ocean in a drop.” Rumi
Rachael Kelley 