It wasn't them, it was ME

Several years ago I met a man and believed that he and I were meant to be together. There was really only one reason I thought this, yet it was enough to make me overlook the warning signs. It was enough to make me invest throughly and end up in a situation where he managed and controlled me long after I left him.

That one thing that made me think we were supposed to be together?

I FELT SAFE

You see, I have a pretty serious background of trauma and abuse. My CPTSD is well earned. For as long as I can remember I've felt scared around men. It takes years and years of being around a male before I cease to fear them. I don't let others know this, it's simply something I have to work through.

I thought that because I didn't feel scared around him, that it meant he and I were supposed to be together. I mean, I'd never felt that way around any other male. So it had to be a sign.

That relationship lasted several years and was full of abuse, trauma and extreme gaslighting. He was the first person with narcism I'd ever met, though it was only after leaving him that a therapist helped me realize that's what he was. He was the farthest thing from safe.

Yet, after all the trauma and abuse, I didn't even remember that there had been a time when I felt safe with him. I've spent so much time trying to figure out how he managed to get me to be with him when all the signs pointed to something I should run from.

I've figured some of it out... how he managed to find my one weakness (my constant worry that I'm failing as a parent) and worm his way into a position that caused me to second guess myself. How he used the past I'd confided in him against me. There are several other things that contribute and most likely more I haven't realized yet.

My latest revelation was that my feeling safe with him had nothing to do with him. I've only recently realized this and it came only after I ventured out to date again and ended up in a committed relationship with someone that I felt was "the one". I mean, if I felt that safe, that secure, then it had to be a sign, right?

It was only when I read through older blog posts that I remembered I'd once felt that way about the ex. The abusive ex that was a true life example of narcism.

How could I have felt safe with both of them?

I realized that prior to either of those relationships, I'd actually made a leap forward in my self growth. I had come to a point where I didn't feel scared around males anymore. Yet, because I hadn't been in the dating world, I didn't realize it. My first date with someone I'd never met before was with him.

I guess I should have realized then that it wasn't that he was safe, but rather my perception of men had changed.

Now that I know this, I have to re-asses a good bit of my life. I need to go back and see what else has changed with the lack of fear.

Ultimately, it's a relief to know that my "safe" radar isn't broken but is finally more to where it needs to be. It wasn't that they felt safe, simply that they didn't feel dangerous. Had I paid attention to the red flags I'd have seen the danger. Instead I kept telling myself, and let him tell me, that feeling safe meant the red flags were wrong.

You live and ya learn, right?

I Used To Be...... that girl

You had something beautiful. Certainly, there were valleys and mountains along the path. Yet, you pushed through and with each, grew stronger. You were as a bulb that had been planted awaiting the sun and rain that would nourish it and one day, with time, allow it to bloom. You were happy.

Yet, you have not known happiness like this before. It was

CALM
      CONTENTED
             PEACEFUL
                   DIVINE

This feeling was out of your comfort zone. You screamed inside your own mind,

"GOOD THINGS DON'T HAPPEN TO ME"

You begin to fret and analyze. Why was he being so good to you? Why, despite all your flaws and wrongs and imperfections, WHY would he still want you?

He must be hiding something. There had to be some reason.

why why why why why why why why why why why Why Why Why Why WHy WHy WHy WHy WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY


"GOOD THINGS DON'T HAPPEN TO ME"

You were only going to end up hurt. He would never stay with you. Once he saw who you really were. Once he knew EVERYTHING. He would leave. He would not stay. You are unlovable. He will hurt you by the very act of his leaving. The longer you postpone the inevitable, the more it will hurt.

So, you push. You push him away and you push him away. Yet, he sees. He knows. Although you can not see it, he really does love you with all your beautiful imperfections and dysfunctions. He can taste your fear; it is tangible. He holds on because he believes in you. He clings to you, determined to show you that he isn't going anywhere. He holds tight to the dream that his love can heal your wounds, or at least allow the scabs to finally form and the blood flow to let up. He is convinced that you can never push him away.

Until that one moment. The moment he saw you going through motions that should have been reserved for him.

In that moment, all his dreams shattered.

You had given yourself away to someone that didn't see YOU.

You had ripped yourself so completely from his grasp despite his determination to hold on.

Now, he is gone. You are alone. In an attempt to punish yourself for your deeds you have alienated yourself from others. You lie awake at night, drowning in the darkness.

Your mind is struggling to justify your actions. Yet, deep down, where we hold our secrets chained and bound, you know.

You did this.

You destroyed it.

You knew he'd leave anyway, it was just a matter of time. Sooner is better than later.

STAND UP. ACCEPT RESPONSIBILITY. FACE YOUR FEARS. FIGHT YOUR FEARS.

WIN

You can not change the past. Horrible people took out their own fears, their anger, their twisted desires on you. They left you shattered, beaten and bruised for all time. You can not change the past. You will never be like every one else. You are shattered and held together with only the thinnest of glues. Yet, that glue is strong because in the midst of all your pain you learned how to love through the birth of your children. That love binds all wounds. 

STAND UP. LOOK IN THE MIRROR. ADMIT TO YOURSELF WHAT YOU HAVE DONE

YOU pushed him away. YOU were scared. YOU hurt him. YOU attempted to shatter him so that he would finally understand YOU. 

You can not fix the past. 

STAND UP. LOOK IN THE MIRROR. 

My dear child, gaze upon that mirror and LOVE WHAT YOU SEE. 

Embrace all the pieces, the dysfunction, the terror, the pain, the heartache. Love it all for it is a part of you that can never be taken away. Love it for it gave you the ability to feel and exist on a deeper and more conscious plane than most. Embrace all of it and know that it is no longer tainted or impure because your love has transcended. Your love has cleansed you. 

STAND UP. LOOK IN THE MIRROR. Tell yourself over and over again, day after day, repeatedly

I AM BEAUTIFUL

I AM LOVABLE

I AM WORTH LIVING FOR

I AM WORTH DYING FOR

I AM EVERYTHING THAT A MAN COULD EVER WANT

I AM ALIVE

I wish that I had shared with you my story. I wish that I had seen that you were that same girl. I wish that I could have spared you this. I wish that I could take away your pain. I wish that my love for you would have served as a buffer. 

I AM SO VERY PROUD OF YOU. 

I am proud of the woman you are. I am proud of the mother you are. I am proud of that girl standing before me now, the same girl I used to be. 

Look inside my dear one. 

Your beauty lies within. Those that surround you can see it. 

It is now time for you to.

Dedicated to Sami

Life Story Ending In Divorce

I attempted to write several times lately, but my own emotions were to overwhelming to put word to page. Seeing your own thoughts in print somehow makes things a bit more ...... permanent.

Although I won't go into details, our family unit is dissolving. My husband has abandoned myself and our children. It is very difficult for myself and our children. My youngest has consistently cried himself to sleep every night and is suffering severe separation anxiety. Our oldest alternates between severe frustration and intense crying. Our middle child...she puts up a brave front, but I catch her crying when she thinks no one can hear.

It's hard for me to accept this ending of our marriage. I had such high hopes that this time, his choices would be different.

You see, my husband is dealing with what, I believe, has become an all to familiar problem in America......avoidance of dealing with our own personal emotional issues. There seems to always be someone or something we can blame. As long as you can blame it on someone or something else, you don't have to "fix" anything.

Sometimes I think it would be easier if I didn't understand that this is what he is doing. If I didn't understand what he is going through, then I could get focus on anger, fury, and not feel so raw. You see, I've been where he is and I understand that place.

I experienced alot of negativity in my childhood. There was yelling, throwing things, criticizing, put downs, insults.....there was no real sense of safety and security but rather survival. I know that my parents love me and I know that the issues I dealt with as a child was a direct result of issues that stemmed from their own childhood. Yet, as a child....I didn't know this and the results weren't good. One thing I did know.....I would never let my own children grow up in a home like that.

I left home at 16. By then I'd been drinking and taking pills for 3 years. One night I didn't come home after work, and ended up losing my virginity to rape. Although I came home the next day, I couldn't bear to be there. I felt so......repulsive. I thought somehow I would taint my younger brothers with what had happened. So, I left for good.

The feelings from the rape I experienced were unbearable. They would surface at moments that weren't convenient (like when I was at work). I felt as if I couldn't catch my breath, as if I was suffocating. I wanted to use a brillo pad and clorox to clean my body.....to rub away all the areas he had touched.

Some teenagers may have appropriate ideas of how to handle a situation like this. Turn to a trusted friend, seek counseling, attend a rape support group. Some may have known that to move past something this traumatic, you first have to grieve and allow all the emotions that are attached to rape to flow through your body. I didn't know any of these things. All I knew....or thought I knew...was that the emotions were so strong, so overwhelming, so suffocating that to feel them would surely mean death, or worse.

So, I decided I wasn't going to feel them anymore. I was going to make them go away, somehow. Trying not to think about it didn't work, but I discovered that the times I drank I could think about the rape without feeling the emotions. In time it took more and more alcohol to achieve that effect. It was only a matter of time before my pill use increased as well. I had found the perfect escape. As long as I had pills and alcohol I could move through life and not have to feel anything.

I spent way to long like this. Moving from party to party and drug to drug. I figured out the best way to stay in drugs was to date a drug dealer......so I did. I moved in with him not long after. For years, I felt nothing at all except anger. Anger was easy....there is no emotional pain involved in anger.

Despite the negative aspects of childhood growing up, my parents had instilled in me the knowledge that my life could be as big as I could dream. They had also instilled in me a knowledge of the Bible. I never doubted God's existence......how can you deny the existence of someone you blame for all the wrongs in your life? Due to believing my life could be as big as my dreams and knowing that God was out there.......I decided one day that I wanted more out of life. I remember looking at a couple of friends and saying, "I want to get clean." I will forever be indebted to these people. Though I don't know what happened to them (though what I have heard wasn't positive), they saved my life those next several days. They made sure I stayed clean...even when I screamed and begged them to give me something to ease the suffering and agony of withdrawal.

I got clean May 1996. I started attending Narcotics Anonymous and was surprised to find that everyone in there were using drugs and alcohol for the same reason......to deaden emotions! The reasons behind varied....some had been abused as children, some suffered depression, some were in horrible marriages, some had low self esteem....the reasons were endless. But, the results were the same....no one wanted to "feel".

People wonder why NA is so important to a recovering addict. It isn't because of the allure of the drugs themselves. It's because for the first time in (insert number of years strung out), you begin to feel emotions. For me, it had been 6 years since I had started medicating my emotions. Even though I didn't realize I was doing it until I was 16 years old....I had learned how 3 years earlier then that. So, I here I was...I had not felt emotions for 6 years and the last emotions I was familiar with were those of a 13 year old child. That's where NA came in....those nights that I'd feel an emotion but had no clue what it was. The middle of the night phone calls because I'd laid in bed for hours trying to figure it out and couldn't. The fear that something was wrong with me cause I felt so "weird".

Although I thought that life had dealt me it's worst hand, I was to learn that this wasn't the case. The worst blow I have, to date, ever sustained was to hit me 8 months after I got clean. I was pregnant with my first child at the time and determined that I would do much better for my unborn child then I'd done for myself. Yet, the blow that I was to take....it rattled me so deeply, affected me to the core and made me re-evaluate all I'd ever stood for and believed....I wasn't prepared for that kind of emotion. Even a fully stable person who did not have a negative history was able to handle this blow without help. All I wanted was to get lost in the numbness and lack of emotion that drugs and alcohol would offer me. I sat for days on end....rocking back and forth, telling myself over and over "Your baby deserves better". I finally took myself to the hospital. I told them I was scared I was going to use and wanted to be admitted so that I could not harm my unborn child by putting drugs or alcohol into my system. I was admitted that night and found that sometimes the strength we think we lack is found in the weaknesses that we have.

I delivered a gorgeous nine and a half pound boy 5 months later. My world was filled with emotions that I'd never experienced. The first 4 weeks were bliss. After that,when his health issues became known, I was still so intent on being the best mother ever that I never considered drugs. I stayed focus on his care.

Then, another unexpected blow. The father of my child became violent. At one point in time I managed to get away, only to end up back in his clutches again (not by my wish). I spent 3 years in a hell worst then you can imagine. I learned first hand what mental abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse, spiritual abuse, and emotional abuse was. I experienced things I had no idea that people could even consider, much less do. I discovered that the human body can endure the most cruel treatment and somehow still survive. I learned that I didn't need drugs or alcohol but instead could close off different parts of my brain. I could take the atrocities that were being afflicted on me and lock them away in a dark recess of my mind.

When I was finally able to get away with my 3 year old son and 3 month old daughter, I discovered a new kind of fear. That of having a stalker....someone always looking for you and tracking you down with only one goal....your demise. It got so that the local police department recognized my face and knew me by name. We were in court often and each time I required protection. I would drive an hour away from my home to get groceries....each time driving in a different direction and by a different route then the one I'd taken months before. I never went to the same place twice in the same month. Life was spent always looking over my shoulder and desperate for security.

I remember the day that I realized I was broken. One of my best friends brought it to my attention. I was "going through the motions" and it looked like I had all the right emotions and responses....but something wasn't right. She didn't think I really "felt" anything.....she thought I was just "faking it". She spoke specifically regarding my emotions towards my children. My first reaction was rage. Yet, I knew she meant me no harm.....why would she think that. I spent the night awake, thinking about what she said. I realized that I never really felt anything. I didn't allow myself to feel negative emotions, but somehow I'd blocked the positive emotions as well.

I was devastated. How could I not feel anything towards my children? I knew I loved them....had no doubts about it....so WHERE were my emotions? I thought about my own childhood and knew I had to do something. I made some calls and started attending the rape survivor support group in addition to the domestic violence support group I already went to. I also started one on one counseling.

And again I discovered something else new to me. I discovered that when you lock away emotions, whether within your own mind or with the aide of drugs and alcohol, that one day all those emotions will have to come out. Because I had not allowed myself to feel the emotions as they came.....I was now finding myself in a deluge of emotions as I tried to work through my emotions.

I remember one night when it all came to a head. I'd been going to therapy for a while. The therapist had assured me over and over again that no one, in the history of mankind, had ever died from their emotions. I was told that the emotions would, at some point, overcome me. It would mean that the therapy was working, that I was healing. You have to allow the scabs to be ripped off and all the infection and disease to bleed out, before you can begin to heal. She said I might think I was dying the emotions would feel so strong, but to cling to the knowledge that no single man had ever died from emotions. She told me to ride the emotions when they came.....let them flow through and wash over me....and cry till I could cry no more.

That night will forever be burned into my brain. I don't remember what I did that day. I remember that my children were in their rooms sleeping and that I was worried my tears and cries would wake them. I remember that I was standing in the open door way between the kitchen and living room when it hit. I gasped and grabbed hold of the doorway. I felt emotions start to surface, as I'd felt many times in the past, but when I tried to lock them away, the wouldn't subside. The agony, the heartache, the tears, the hopelessness, the despair.......they all hit and I melted to a puddle on the floor. I spent the entire night in that one spot.....crying out until I thought I could cry no more.....and then crying more. I was certain that I was going to die....that if others had felt this before they had died as well. Yet, I knew I wanted more for my children........and the therapist had said I HAD to go through this before I could heal and feel emotions for others. Most importantly, I knew that God existed and believed that when we could no longer go forward on our own, He would carry us through. He carried me through that night and into the dawn.

I stopped crying out just before the sun began to rise. I don't remember getting up and going to the shower....but I remember standing under the water and feeling..........empty. It wasn't a bad feeling.....it was just a new feeling. Somehow I felt like I was lighter, like I weighed less.

I wasn't automatically healed after that. It took lots of work, lots of therapy, and lots of support from my friends. Yet, we all prevailed. I did it for my children, and I know that this is one of the greatest gifts I could have ever given them. The only greater gift I can give my children is the knowledge of their heavenly Father, who will never abandon them.

Through the years, I've met many people who have also learned to block their emotions. Some learned to do so at a very young age. Others as they got older. Some discovered it as adults. Some use drugs, or alcohol. Others push the emotions into dark recesses of their minds. Some have admitted they do this. There are others who blame all the issues in their life on other people. There are some who look to justify it. I wonder if there are some that never realize it? Regardless of the ins and outs....each of these people are also doing something else.............they are hurting the people that truly love them. They are denying those people a return of love, and giving them nothing short of treachery and deceit instead. "Faking" emotions, no matter how good you do at it, is just that............. "faking". It's not real, and eventually the person you are interacting with in this way will discover your secret.

I discovered that my husband blocked his emotions in the first year of our marriage. He took an emotional blow that shocked him to the core. It caused him to have to re-evaluate all he'd ever thought or known. He struggled for three days........and then he disappeared. For weeks and weeks I heard nothing at all from him. A police officer confirmed on Day 4 of his missing that he was physically well and stated he had left by choice and with free will. He wiped out our bank account and closed it. He wouldn't answer messages, and I heard nothing at all from him.

I knew what he was doing.....hadn't I done the same thing? He couldn't stay at home and continue to block all those emotions. So he ran to somewhere he was "safe". He stayed gone long enough that he was able to bundle all those emotions back into the dark recesses of his mind. He then came back, went through all the motions, and convinced me he was sincere. I stayed deceived for months, believing that he had dealt with his blocked emotions and was now feeling them.

I'm not sure what it was that made me notice at first. I look back and see all the signs and reasons I should have known he hadn't dealt with them. I wanted so much to believe and I wanted so much to offer him the love and support that was so important throughout my own healing.

Trouble started a few months ago. He started to criticize, name call, insult, make fun of the children. Then, when they would cry, he would just stare at them with no emotions at all. He went from staring at them to yelling at them when they cried. When I attempted to discuss with him the damage the verbal abuse was doing to the children, he started attacking me verbally as well. Things got worse and worse.

Then, it progressed to the point where I begin to fear for the children's physical safety. His rages were growing in intensity, the verbal abuse had escalated to a point that was fearful. He told me that he was scared he was going to hurt the children and thought it was best if he stayed with a friend a few nights. That was at the beginning of the week. On Thursday we sent the children to stay overnight with someone so that we could attend our family therapy session just the two of us. He sat down and revealed all that had been going on to our family counselor. The counselor broke through the surface, and He had a major breakthrough and insight into what was going on within himself. It was difficult for him, and I understood more then I think he realized.

That evening was the best part of our entire relationship. We spoke for hours and for the first time I saw the man I'd only seen glimpses of before. The man I believed I could make a life with. We discussed the steps that we would take together to get through this, we talked about our future, our dreams, our plans. Together, with God, we'd get through this and everything was going to be OK.

We'd stayed so close that night, throughout the next day, and the next night while he sat beside me in the ER (another story). We curled into bed at 2:30 am after coming back from the ER, and he rubbed my hair to help me feel better. We had spent over 24 hours talking, planning, believing, dreaming. The last thing I remember him saying before I feel asleep in his arms was him telling me everything was going to be OK.

Then, he decided to run away. I don't know what happened Saturday morning. He said he was taking the van to get it aligned, pick up the medication the hospital had given me, and then be home to get me. He left at 7:30am. I saw him again around 2:30pm. Those hours are still mostly unaccounted for. I know he picked up someone he works with, I know that he went and purchased illegal drugs and then sat behind a large store and used them. I know that his buddy was also drinking alcohol but don't know if he was. I know that spent 1/4 of our mortgage that morning. At about 3:30pm, we were on our way to pick up our children and spend time with them. It was Saturday and I hadn't seen them since Thursday! On our way there, He stepped out of the van, while we were traveling aprx 50 mph. In the panic of all that happened after, I didn't realize what had happened. I thought it was an accident somehow, I didn't know. Yet, after speaking with the officer that responded and the medical professionals that saw him, if it had been accidental he would have fell out of the vehicle. Instead, he was standing and attempting to take a step when his feet touched the ground. He asked over and over again, "What did I do?"

He suffered a fractured skull and an epidural hematoma. As the bleed begin to put pressure on his brain, he lost his memories and went into a 15 second loop, every 15 seconds he'd forget everything. I sat by his side the entire hospital stay. I left only to go get him something from the cafeteria, and twice to smoke (something I didn't do before). I brought him home and still the children stayed elsewhere as his head injury required silence. As he begin to feel better, he was again the person that I saw in the days prior to his head injury. We talked alot, dreamed of how much better our future was going to be. He professed his love to me, and how this injury made him realize how important the children and I were to him. He said everything would be OK.

His head injury happened November 5th. On the 17th he told me he missed our children and would I please bring them home.We'd hardly seen them since his injury and they had spent maybe 2 nights at home. We spent a wonderful evening together. He cuddled with them, held them and told them how much he had missed them. He told them he never wanted to ever spend that much time apart. They all made funny pictures using the webcam and candy corn! They talked about all the cool and fun things they were going to do as soon as he was better. Life was unbelievably good.

The older two children went to a sleepover the next night. During the night, our youngest ended up with a high 103-104 fever. He was miserable and didn't sleep well. That morning, I got him dressed so that I could pick up his siblings and take him to the doctor. With his sensory issues, shoes are always a struggle for him and often cause him physical pain. His fever only intensified his sensitivity, so finally I told him it was OK. He didn't have to wear shoes and I would carry him. I left him sitting on the floor beside his shoes and went to get dressed. I'd only had enough time to throw some jeans on when I heard him scream and come crying to me. He had attempted to put his shoes on. When our youngest started kicking his feet and crying, "Hurt hurt hurt", He yanked the shoe off our child's foot, twisting his ankle, and then threw the shoe across the room. I learned later, when He told a doc, that as our child ran, he threw the other shoe at him "but missed". I was horrified. I didn't know what to to do. He started telling me his brain was "swelling" and that was why he'd gone into such a rage. He said he needed to go to the doctor immediately. I told him to get dressed and I'd take him to the doctor when I took our son.

The entire car ride, he said over and over his "brain was swelling". He talked without making sense and the children were frightened. I dropped the older two off at an event they had planned, and took the other two to the doctors office. The doctors became concerned when He talked about how he should just go off somewhere and kill himself because all he did was hurt people. They pulled me in the hall and said that they were not equipped to handle this situation, and they wanted me to get him to the Emergency Room. I had someone meet us there to get the children. The ER confirmed that his brain was healing and was not "swelling". When the doctor asked him if he felt like hurting himself "at this moment" he replied, "Well no. I'm in the hospital." Although He had requested that he have his emotional outburst discussed with a medical professional, and said that he was scared he was going to hurt our children, the hospital did not send in a psych to speak with him. Instead, they told him to stay away from the children and to schedule an appointment with the local psychiatric office on Monday. They told him to explain he'd been in the ER and that he could most likely be seen quickly.

Within 5 minutes of leaving the ER, He asked me, "So, my brain isn't swelling?" and I replied "No." He got quite for quite some time and then told me, "I know what happened. I know why I hurt him."  I asked him "why" and he replied "mind control". He spent the rest of our 45 minute drive telling me that I was "mind controlling" him and making him do bad things. He told me that I was stealing his money as well. I called my friends who were babysitting at our home and let them hear the things he was saying, so they would know what was going on before I arrived. When he started saying, "I gotta get away from her" repeatedly, one of those friends offered to take him to the house he'd stayed at before his head injury. He promised to check in twice a day, morning and evening with one of us. He disappeared at 10am the next morning (Sunday). No one heard from him until Tuesday evening when he called me at 6:30pm. He demanded that I send the children to spend the night with their grandparents (which was not an option) and that I come get him and bring him home. He said that he couldn't sleep except in his bed, and that I was going to take him to his doctors appointment in the morning. The entire time he was yelling at me and angry. I tried to explain to him that there was no one I could leave the kids with that night, but he just got more angry. His cousin said he could come stay with her so I made arrangements to drop him off with her. My youngest two children went with me to pick him up, the oldest was home sick. He got in the van and when the children tried to show him affection, he pulled away from them. They tried to talk to them, but he told them, "My head hurts to bad to hear kids' mouths".

I stopped just down the road to grab the kids something to drink. When I came back out our daughter was crying and our son was curled up in his car seat, nonverbal. No one would tell me what was said. I later found out that he'd said to them, "I bet you love it now that Daddy is gone. You get to do whatever you want, there is no one to make you listen and you can just be hateful brats and rule the roost." Our daughter asked me what "rule the roost" meant. *sigh He then started dancing in the front seat and your youngest asked, "Daddy, what are you doing?" and he replied, "I'm doing the dance you do now that Daddy's gone. The I can do whatever I want dance."

When I got back in the car and continued on to meet his cousin, he went on and on about how the children and I have never loved him. We were using him. He said if I'd loved him I'd have stayed with him at the hospital instead of running to my children (I didn't see my children the entire time he was hospitalized). He said the kids hated him and he "knew it". That none of us had ever loved him. I begged him not to talk like that in front of the kids and his reply was to turn around, face the children and yell, "Why not? It's true ain't it? You both hate me and your brother does to? Don't you? Don't you? See, that's what I mean, you won't even answer me, you just ignore me." I had thought the ride to the hospital when he was injured was the longest drive ever, but I'm pretty sure this one runs close seconds.

I dropped him off with his cousin. Since then, he's refused communication with me unless he wants something. He came yesterday to pick up two of our vehicles and when our youngest ran and hugged him, he just stared at him....no emotion. When I asked him, before he left, to tell the children bye, he yelled very very loudly, "No, I'm not telling those kids anything!" and he left. He has told me he wants separation papers done immediately and he's 100% sure he wants a divorce. He says that it's because the children don't listen to him and he does not have the rule of our household. He said they are the "worst" children he's ever seen and that I use them as a "crutch" so that I don't have to be a "good mother".

I thought at first all this was due to his head injury. But over and over again I saw the similarities to a year ago when he abandoned us. How he then also, wanted no communication at all. How he then also left us with no financial support and took no responsibility for anything. How he wanted his own life, devoid of us.

So, although I understand that he's running, not from the children or myself, but from his own emotions....it doesn't make it any easier for the children and myself. For the first time I realize how I hurt those that loved me when I was running from my own emotions. I am blessed that they loved me unconditionally and were there for me after I dealt with those issues. I remember how I ran to those who wouldn't force me to deal with any responsibility, but would help me escape it all. NA has a word for people who do this....they are called "enablers". I surrounded myself with enablers, as he is doing now.

I can't do anything to change the path my husband is on. His path is one of a self destruction that won't be seen by most he surrounds himself with. It's a self destruction that will slowly eat at him. Some people go through their entire lives and never face the issues he is facing. Some only realize all they ran from when they are facing death. Those people are alone in a way that others won't ever know. I was fortunate. I had people who prayed for me and never stopped praying. They believed that God could help me. Their faith and their prayers put me in a situation where I had to face and confront my blocked emotions. Therefore, I'll continue to pray for my husband. I understand where he is and though I don't agree with his choice to run, I can't say I did any better many years ago. I ran for a long time, in various ways. It wasn't until 11 years ago that I finally dealt with the fact that I had blocked emotions. I pray that he knows God will carry him through, just as he's done everyone else that has had to go through this. I pray that he knows the people who truly love him unconditional will support him through that healing, and not look to their own self interest. I pray that he knows that a beautiful paradise awaits on the other side, if only he'll take the step to get there.

He told me here, the last time I spoke with him, that he was ending our marriage because he doubted himself....he doubted he could do what it would take to save our family. I told him that I believed and did not doubt, because it is in God's strength and not our own that we make it through the hard stuff. I hope he'll remember that.

Self Care

In March of this year, my husband and I purchased a new home. For 4 months, we've enjoyed living in a paradise location. Surrounded by forests and the river, I saw my summer filled with days fishing and hiking. With a  huge bathtub in my bathroom, I saw evenings spent soaking in a tub filled with fragrant oils and surrounded by candles. I've had the bathtub set up with candles, incense, and oils since right after we moved in. 

Today, I took my first bath in the new house. As I absorbed the coconut oil and eucalyptus, my mind raced. How would I figure out budget tomorrow on pay day? Once again what we need to pay out is more then what we've brought in. I still need to put away the rest of the clean laundry in the livingroom. I haven't put the clean sheets back on the bed yet. The kids will want a snack when they get home from Vacation Bible School tonight. My mind was running a thousand miles a minute. I sank down till the water covered my ears and took several deep breathes. I just needed to R E L A X. Yet, I just couldn't do it. I couldn't turn off my brain. All I could do was think about all I needed to get done. 

I spent a total of 25 minutes in the tub. It was agony! I wanted to jump out and get to work within 5 minutes, but pushed myself to wait. With the 25 minutes over, I jumped into a cool shower in an attempt to ease my pain via cyclic showering. Even though I could immediatly feel unanticipated results (this is my first attempt at cyclic showering), I was still so consumed with what I had to do. I jumped out, got dressed and came to work on paperwork and finish emails. 

Growing up, life was pretty hectic. Everything needed to be done just right in an attempt to avoid criticism that usually came anyway. Throughout childhood and my teenage years, I felt compelled to do everything perfect and before it was due. It wasn't until I was a single mother of two children and in lots of therapy to deal with the violence I had faced at the hands of my children's father, that I started learning how to slow down and enjoy life. It wasn't easy, but I learned how to go to the park and play with the children rather then work while they played. I learned how to set at the table and pudding paint! I learned to take a couple nights a month to go out just for me and dance the night away. I learned that by taking care of my body,  I was better able to accomplish what was most important in my life. I took long bubble baths and enjoyed mornings reading in bed listening to the birds chirp outside my window. 

I'm not sure when I reverted back. I'm guessing it came as a result of getting sick. The time I have in a day has been cut down to a small smidgen of what I had before. Therefore the time I do have I feel I must be super productive. Yet, this pace isn't helping anyone. I work at a furious pace when I'm able and spend the rest of the time exhausted and thinking about what is left to be done. 

I don't know how, but I need to be able to let go. I need to accept that it doesn't matter what other people think and that spending time with my children are more important. I need to accept that the laundry can wait and that I need to soak in the tub and do nothing but relax. 

Here lately I've started to focus alot more on getting rid of the toxins and parasites (yes, I said parasites) that have built up in my body through the years. I realized tonight that there is no amount of eating healthy or cleansing that I can do that will fix everything UNLESS I take the time to relax and let go of the stress in my life. 

It's Lonely Here

There is a room I go to in my mind. It's a room filled with shoes. There are all kinds of shoes. They are all my shoes. 

I see the shoes that never seemed to fit when I was a child. They were the shoes that showed others I was poor and prompted their cruel taunts. 

I see the shoes I wore when I ran away from home. 

I see the shoes I wore when I walked hours and hours in freezing weather with no where to go. I remember stopping in a sunny patch on the sidewalk and removing those shoes so that I could try to rub some warmth into my feet. 

I see the shoes that were thrown beside the bed as I lost my virginity to rape.

 I see my dancing shoes that I wore to clubs, dancing away all worries and fears until exhaustion took me over.

 I see the shoes I wore when I ran from the guys that would again take away another shard of innocence. 

I see the shoes I had on the first time I decided to fight back against the beatings my husband was giving me. 

I see the shoes I wore when I went to bury a baby murdered. 

 I see the shoes the battered women's shelter gave me when I came in, as I had none on my feet. 

I see the shoes I wore my first day to college. 

I see the blue booties I wore while delivering my children. 

I see the slippers I wore at my wedding and the shoes I wore at my best friends funeral. 

I see the shoes I wore when depressed and the shoes I wore when believing for miracles. 

I see the shoes I wore when I was high and drunk.

I see the shoes I wore during the murder trial. 

I see the shoes I wore as I ran to my friend who had just shot himself.  

I see the shoes I wore while getting clean. 

I see the shoes I wore when I was diagnosed with chronic health issues. 

I see the shoes I wore when I discovered my children have Autism. 

I see shoes and shoes and shoes and more shoes. 

There are so many and I can't help but wonder.....could one person really have worn so many shoes in their lifetime? 

I am saddened to know the answer is yes. I don't know if the shoes I've worn have ever helped another. I talk often of my life's experiences in the hope that maybe someone else won't have to experience what I have gone through. I know that, due to the many shoes I have worn, there are many who will talk to me when they refuse to talk to anyone else. I know that the many shoes I have worn have opened my eyes. I have removed the blinders and can see so much more than before. The shoes I've worn have walked away any judgements. The shoes I've worn have opened my heart to others. The shoes I've worn have helped me to see the world for how scary, how cruel, how heartbreaking it can truly be. 

I've worn enough shoes that rarely do I hear someone say, "You've never walked in my shoes" and I'm unable to see the shoes we both shared. 

With all the shoes in the room, there is a dark lonely corner. It is the corner I find myself in when I need to talk about so many pairs of shoes. It's the corner where I sit and weep with loneliness. It's the corner where, surrounded by shoes, I realize there is no one else that has worn all my shoes. It's the moments when the quantity of my shoes, and all they mean, seek to devour me. It's at that time when I realize that I don't have anyone to talk to about all my shoes. I have people I can talk to about this pair of shoes. I have people I can talk to about that pair of shoes. Yet, I haven't met anyone with as many shoes as I have. I've spent years letting others know they aren't alone and I want to find a room filled with as many shoes as mine. I want that one person to look at me and tell me they understand. 

I had a flashback today. I'm 11 years out. 11 years and 1 day out. And I had a flashback. I always think I've reached a point where the flashbacks will be over and gone with. After so many months of not having one, I think I'm in the clear. But, in the most tense times.......times of stress when I already feel I can't handle anything else........a trigger comes. With that trigger I am sent spiraling backwards to a time over a decade ago. I can see the vein popping out of his head as he moves towards me, fists clenched to his side, face red from screaming. I can feel the moisture on my face from his breath as he puts his face against my own. I can feel the tension in his chest and arms as they begin to push against me. I am there and the present disappears. 

I've heard in these times, it's "flight or fight". I spent to many years "flighting" and now, without meaning to, I go into "fight" mode. I am terrified. I am scared. I must survive and will do whatever it takes to do so. It's late 1999/early 2000 again, and my life and the lives of my children are in danger. I've forgotten where I truly am and who it is around me. I just must survive.

With the flashback over, I am fragile. I feel as if I'm a shattered glass held closely together by happenstance. The slightest wind, or cough, or step will send the shattered glass crumbling to the floor. I am raw....my emotions have rushed to the surface. I am vulnerable. I am weak. I cry out in heartache and despair. I am angry at myself for letting something that happened so very long ago sneak up and haunt me again. 

"They" say that time heals all wounds. I think I've been misinterpreting that wrong for many years. I don't think all wounds can heal. I think that some wounds will continue to haunt us until the day we day. Yet, I believe that one day, my wounds will heal. Not only will they heal, all scars will disappear and there will be no memory of the shoes I was forced to wear. I'll look in that room and see happy shoes. There will be only light filled corners and no darkness at all. 

 I look forward to that day. For now, I'm going to sit in my dark corner, surrounded by my shoes, and cry out for comfort and mercy. 

Violence Unsilenced

A small part of my story will be told at Violence UnSilenced. Although I've spoke often to others, and at public speaking events, about my story, there is something different about it being in print. Permanent. For all to see. 

It wasn't easy deciding which moment to take out of my life to share. There are so many.....to many that I could have chosen. Yet, after months of writing and rewriting, this particular instance came to my mind. For me it signifies how different the world is for someone being abused. How the important things aren't so important, how the insignificant suddenly has great weight.

Survivors of abuse leave the abusive situation with a warped view of the world. They've learned survival skills in a setting that is the farthest from how God intended it to be. The world has become a very dark and scary place. A place where those that professed love destroyed all hope. A place where trust equals pain and heartache. A place where shadows lurk and it doesn't take much to rip off the scabs that have only started to heal. A place where your scars shine bright within you, yet no one else notices or cares.

Please, take a moment to go to Violence UnSilenced. Read not only my post, but those of the other survivors of violence. Show your support to them as they are reaching out to share their stories with others. We don't share our stories for pity.....we share our stories so that you might be able to help your sister, your daughter, your son, your friend.  We all know someone who has or is being abused. It's up to you to become aware of the signs and reach out to that person. You could make the difference......you could save a life.