We're outta there!!!!

Okay we made it! That's the bottom line. We got out, but not without a fight. He tried to stop us. He took the children's passports and I thought I was really, seriously stuck. He cried and sobbed. He feigned a heart attack. He told all of his friends and they thought he was going to have a breakdown. He begged and pleaded that things would be different. But he had the passports! Through several hours of convincing from his friends and myself by phone, he handed over the passports so that we could get back to our other home, and to what I knew to be safety. He said he was sure it was temporary, that we would work it out. I didn't feel safe until we were back in the States. For the next several days, he pleaded on the phone, texts and emails that things would be different. But I know they never would be. He tried to bribe me, sending emails asking about the Ph.D program that I wanted to take, suddenly, when he never had any interest before. Meanwhile my friends and family have rallied around us, helping us to get our lives stablized. It's not easy, and I want to tell you more over the next week about the torrent of conflicting emotions that ensue when you actually do leave, but I keep telling myself, as I really do know, that this is the only way to protect me and my children from further damage and harm. Regardless of whatever challenges lay before me, never again will he call me, "moron," "stupid," "idiot," "selfish," "a liar," "a dumb redneck," and "a cheap whore" for living off of his money. Never again will he knock me in the head, scream at the top of his lungs at me, throw things at me, ignore me, threaten to leave me on the street with no money, and control every aspect of my life, including who I see and when. And especially, never, never again will he kick Dillon, pinch him, slap him, keep him confined to his room like a prisoner, call him degrading names like, "sissy," "faggot," and, "lazy bum," to name a few. Never again will he jerk his little body around, never again will he scream at him or hurt him, mentally, physically, or otherwise. And the same goes for little Ella, who he was just starting to treat like that. So yes, we are out of there. Yes I'm glad and relieved. But I'm also sad, and I know there are many challenges and unanswered questions about our lives now. I'm afraid -- afraid that I won't be able to do this on my own, even though a small voice inside of me says I know better. I'm concerned about money, of course. I have no job, even though I have abilities and experience. I guess I have to take it one step at a time. First, and foremost, we are safe. But the fight is not over yet. We're not divorced. So breathe, I tell myself. Childcare is horribly expensive, so breathe. I don't have all the answers, but just breathe. It's not easy, but I'm trying to stay positive. I AM so relieved to be out of that toxic environment. On a happy note, I would love to tell you some of the things that we've already enjoyed as soon as we were free to be "normal:" Dillon and Ella play with their toys on the living room floor, and it's great. Both of them help set the breakfast table; we talk while we're eating together, and I love it. Dillon hugs Ella, and takes such good care of her, we sing songs whenever we feel like it and we're not worried that we'll be yelled at, and the other night when Ella was in bed, Dillon came into my room and watched a movie in my big bed while I unpacked. It was SO NICE to just be. To just walk around the house and not worry that we've moved a pillow, or talked above a whisper. Since we got here, we leave our bedroom doors open, something that Dillon asked if we could do. I know that speaks volumes because he was always made to stay in his room with the door closed, "all by myself," as he used to say. Now he goes where he wants. We are relaxed in our own home, and that's the biggest difference. I know that's a blessing that I could never put a price on. So there it is -- we're free! More to come, though, dear friend, if you're still around to listen, I'll keep checking in to tell you how we're getting on. The job for me is just beginning, and I want to share it with you. You're so encouraging, and keep me strong, and yes, I'm afraid of the future right now. Happy and afraid at the same time. But you help me to stay focused and not give in to fear. Thank you for that. So until next time, dear friend...