They said, “How bad can it be? He doesn’t beat you. He doesn’t gamble. He isn’t gone every weekend. You have a nice home. How bad can it be?”
They said, “You know, it’s not easy being a single mom. There will be lonely nights. It’s a lot to handle by yourself. Are you sure this is what you want?”
She said, “I don’t want to hear your reasons for leaving him. I think he’s wonderful.”
He said, “I thought you were the perfect couple. You looked like you were happy. Wasn’t he making enough money for you?”
And when I started this blog, they said, “You shouldn’t dwell on all this negative stuff. It just isn’t healthy for you or the kids. Leave all this toxic stuff behind you.”
…
After I’d been writing for over two years, and the kids and I had clearly grown and worked through a laundry list of issues, they said, “Well, where are you going to go with this now? You’ve survived. You’re thriving, even. You’ve clearly come out the other side and you’ve made great progress. Why are you still writing about surviving narcissism?”
__________
This morning I received an email. She said, “I saw the comment that came from another corner of the world. I see how many there are. I see how they all wonder if they might be crazy. I see how this impacts children. I see how this might help. I get it now.”
I knew she would.
I stop at the top of the hill and yell for them to keep going. I want to watch them. 
With their pinkies pointing at my face, they backed me up against the kitchen counter saying, “Pinky swear you aren’t the one bringing us presents on Christmas morning! Pinky swear to it!” 
It would be the closest I’d get to being a real Santa Elf. I was thirteen and my brother eleven. Through the family grapevine, we were selected to help the Cookie Lady. 
It’s cold outside. 
They could have banished me to the old white shed. 
