It's worth the trouble to get out of trouble

As the New Year begins, a lot of people are making resolutions to lose weight, find a job, spend more time with their kids, finally clean the dust-bunnies from under the bed, or whatever. Some people will keep those promises to themselves, but most probably won't for one reason or another, which is really just another word for excuse. In the midst of all these new promises, there are some who are like I was a year ago. I promised myself that I would get myself and my two young children out of the destructive cycle of verbal abuse. In some ways it's more dangerous than a swift kick in the stomach or a slap on the face because maybe that would be enough to sound the alarm bells. Verbal abuse is a slow killer, that creeps into your soul one episode at a time, until one day you look in the mirror and realize that you've changed. You've lost your will to fight, you've lost your energy and you've lost your sparkle. And for anyone currently going through it, please, please, PLEASE believe that all abusers are the same. They work from the same playbook, rationalizing every single act. Either saying that you made them do it, saying your too sensitive, or just denying it all together. A year ago I was there. And I did something that now as I look back, I can’t believe I had the guts, but I did it. And nothing can take that away. Today, my 2 and 4 year old are not living in fear, not living with screaming, not living with oppression and unbearable control. We laugh, and tickle each other, and make tents in the living room and sometimes we even eat in bed just because we can. I can’t say that leaving is easy, it takes serious guts to plan, and you probably can’t do it alone. You’ll be afraid: afraid of what he might do, afraid that it won’t work and you’ll somehow be “sent” back there, and even afraid of the unknown. BUT DO IT ANYWAY. If you’re married, and especially if you have kids, you might not be completely rid of the abuser, but you’ll be out of his house and out of his grasp, and YOU take charge. Arm yourself with the law, get protection, surround yourself with friends or family, and don’t back down on what you demand for yourself. A year ago I was miserable and my son was on a very dim path. Today we’re happy. It’s not always easy, but we’re happy. And I have my own sense of self back. That’s so important. Be your own best friend and fight for yourself. It’s a lot of trouble, but it’s so worth it. When I started this blog I found friends “out there” who supported me more than I ever expected. And now I want to find friends out there who need support. Whatever you’re going through, I’ve gone through. I can relate. But hey, I did it, and so can you, somehow. So, new friends, wherever you are, I’m wishing for you a New Year’s resolution that you keep for yourself. I’m here. And I’m thinking of you. Until next time, dear friends…

Pushing past the fear...

I read my old blogs today; the early ones, the raw ones. And all through it, tears spilled down my face. I felt strangely disconnected and yet completely affected; I felt as though I was reading about a priceless friend whom I had let down by exposing her to such harm. I felt like I was out of my body, dealing with this on a spiritual level, and that this spirit had been hurt, more than was evident on her physical exterior. It reminded me of a story where someone had fallen and hit their head, and thought they were alright, when actually they were bleeding profusely from the forehead. But in spite of the damage, they couldn’t feel it, and it wasn’t until the blood was running down their face that they realized, “Oh my gosh, I’m bleeding – a lot – I guess I’m really injured!” Well that’s exactly how I feel. I’m bleeding – or I was – but I couldn’t entirely feel it. It’s only been since we’ve escaped that the numbness is beginning to wear off. I know that’s a good thing; we have feelings and senses for a reason; partially to tell us when something is harming us. But it also hurts, and numbness can be useful, too. It gives us the ability to push through the pain and do what we have to do. When we were still with Derek and I knew I had to find a way to leave, I got busy, and so much of the time I felt like a robot, just going through the motions, and I wondered how it was that I wasn’t crying constantly or feeling afraid. Now I know it was because my body instinctively knew to shield me, to make me numb, in order to do what otherwise would have been far too scary to do. Now that we’re away from him, the feeling is coming back. At first I was so relieved, I felt like I was breathing for the first time, and the fresh air was exhilarating. Now, we’re so much happier, and I embrace everything with an inflated sense of gratitude to the Universe. Now, I’m embroiled in the fight to completely sever our lives from this person: getting divorced, keeping the kids from being alone with Derek, trying to find work, and basically establishing all of those legal frameworks that will keep my children and me safe, secure and happy. This Monday is a pivotal day in court. Since Derek was finally served with the Order of Protection, the judge will hear the case and decide if he will make it permanent or not. I don’t think Derek will show up, but I do think his attorney will. He will cross examine me, and try his best to twist my words into something wrong. And in between now and then, Derek will send me nasty emails, threatening that I will lose everything if I don’t change my attitude – it’s so funny how even from thousands of miles away, he can’t let go the reigns of control. Initially, he told his attorney that he wanted to reach an agreement. So I tried. For a week, we emailed back and forth, discussing what we each want. And to my shock, Derek is so far out of the realm of reality that even after all of this, he doesn’t want to get divorced! And of course, he still doesn’t see that he’s an abusive, angry person. He denies it. At first it was very frustrating, and he succeeded in getting me to tangle myself back into a dialogue with him, as I tried to convince him that he was sick and needed help of some kind, and as I tried to justify my actions to him. But finally I realized, there’s not going to be any agreement with this man, because he doesn’t want to agree. He just wants to fight, and control, and keep the wheel spinning. The thing he hates the most is when I don’t respond at all. And that’s where we are now. I’m resolved to go through the attorneys and the courts, and yes, spend more money that I probably can, but it’s the only way to protect my little family. So Monday is the first of those battles, to prove that what I’m saying is true. And as that day approaches, I’ve had an increasing sense of foreboding: I look out the window a lot, and check the front door; I check on the kids more often while they’re sleeping; I walk around with a tightness in my chest over something, but nothing. Most of the time , I don’t even know what specifically I’m hurting about, I just feel the pain in an overall kind of way, letting me know that something bad happened to me, and there’s going to be some residual burning. I think it’s all m body’s way of saying, “You’re walking back into danger, you’re going too close to that bad fire, and it will surround you again. Be ware, danger, danger, be on alert!” So that’s this week. That’s part of what you have to go through to get to the other side. It’s a complex ride, this one, and I don’t know all the outcomes. In some ways, I’m in complete control like I never was with Derek. And in other ways, I have no control, and have to deal with it. Until next time, dear friend…

Being strong...

Thanks, everyone for your spirited thoughts, but please be assured I have an attorney whom I pay very well to offer legal advice in all matters. I just wanted the unofficial opinion as to how perhaps other mothers would feel in such a circumstance, having to weigh financial needs over your wishes for your children. At the end of the day, Derek is their father, and like it or not, even convicted murderers in prison are given the right to visitation with their children; that's just the reality of the matter. Since Derek seeing the children is a real possibility, I'm going to try to have it on my terms, and I think that the legal cards are stacked in my favor. Derek deals from his raw emotions, and even now doesn't acknowlege that he has an anger problem. The very fact that, even now, he envisions the children flying on a plane out of the United States to see him in a foreign country shows that he's not recognizing his own public record in domestic violence. He even wrote in a note to me the other day that he's not mad at me, in fact, he "forgives" me, and that as long as we both drop all "legal things" that we can come to an agreement. That clearly demonstrates how illogical he is. When I left Derek, I wasn't responding to the emotional side of the issue, although that was certainly there. I left him because I had to acknowledge, through crystal clear eyes, that the way he treated me and my son was NOT normal, was NOT okay, and had to be stopped or we would be further and probably irrevocably hurt. Luckily the facts are on my side. So I'm still looking for work, writing my book about this lovely experience, and addressing what comes with strength and assurance. Even if I have to RE-assure myself every day that I can do it! Moms can do anything for their babies, I've learned that. But it's still so helpful to know that you're out there, listening and supporting. Thank you so, so much! Until next time, dear friends...

What do you think...

I may not be able to see you, but where ever you are, you've been a true friend at times when I've really needed one. Now I'd like to take an unofficial poll. Derek has sent a "proposal" to his attorney. Not in writing, but he's suggesting that he will drop that ridiculous child abduction law suit if I will agree to some form of visitation with the children -- in another country, the country where he's living now. Now don't worry, there is no way on God's green earth that I would let my children out of this country to be with that man, believe me! And actually, I would prefer that he have no influence at all on them. However, my attorney is telling me that because he is the children's father, at the end of this whole thing the judge will almost certainly give him some form of visitation, at the very least, supervised and in our jurisdiction. So he's suggesting that I put together a proposal of my own of conditions I would agree to, in the hopes of avoiding a big, expensive court battle. Well I can tell you now, I don't like it. Although I recognize what he's saying and that in the end Derek may get supervised visits, I can't escape the feeling that this giving him that now is not being true to the very real feelings I have regarding his anger issues and abuse. I think that to agree to him being in our lives at all means that I'm negating all that I've said. I stand by my statement that he's a dangerous and unstable person, who's attempted suicide twice, once with the knife. I also know that he is a con artist, and that he doesn't think for a second that he has an anger problem, and therefore he has no intention of improving himself. He's told me this many times. So to send my children into the presence of this man feels like sending them into the wolf's lair, court supervised or not. On the other hand, if it's absolutely gong to happen regardless, is it perhaps better to have it happen on my terms, with me sending forth a proposal that I can somehow live with, rather than waiting for a judge to do it long after both sides are financially ruined? Additionally, if we come to an agreement now, I can try to negotiate some support from him, after all, if he can see his children, he also must support them. Don't forget he's living in another country so I would never be able to collect court-ordered child support unless he voluntarily gives it, and he would only be motivated to do that if he can see his children. But even this bothers me. I feel like I'm bartering my children somehow. I don't like it. I'm conflicted. What to do... Until next time, dear friends...

Crazy or just clueless??

If you've been following my blog for the last several months, you already know that my two beautiful children and I were living in an abusive situation (see my older posts), in which my husband screamed at us, kicked my son, jerked him around, called me an idiot, moron, and other choice names on a daily basis, and he also, over time, usurped all of my freedom and independence, until I had no bank card, no money, no friends, no freedom to buy anything without his approval, including my own clothes, and I had to be home by 5:30 or I was in big trouble. That's just a quick recap, and is not at all comprehensive, but it gives us all a moment to remember just how charming this guy was (and is). So here we are, a few months after my big escape, breathing a certain sigh of relief that although the battles aren't yet completed, the damaging cancer (him) has been excised from our daily lives, and I'm doing all that I can legally to ensure that it remains that way. To have come this far, surely is worth a toast. HOWEVER -- as I proceed through my own involuntary social experiment in leaving this jerk, I have learned one thing is for sure: these abusive types will try ANYTHING and EVERYTHING to suck you back into their lair and under their control where they think you belong. My own jerk has succeeded in keeping me continually surprised at the schizophrenic and contradictory combination of carrots and sticks that he regularly dangles to try and get a response from me. Mind you, I have had almost no contact with him (ah, so refreshing), as there is an Order of Protection for us in the court, and also because getting into a dialogue would serve no productive purpose whatsoever. Even so, he fairly regularly sends me messages and texts and even gifts in the mail. As to his arsenal of strategies, he seems to be trying out different ones to see what will stick and get a response from me. Here is a sample of some of them: He's sent me flowers three times, each with a note professing his love for me. After 4 1/2 years of not caring about my personal goals, he sent an email quite suddenly asking for information on the Ph.D. program I'm interested in. Then he tried a different approach, and sent a string of emails stating that I could not just ignore him and that if I did, I: wouldn't be able to stay in our house, would spend all of my money on lawyers in court, and would receive a slew of lawsuits and even criminal charges (?!). When that didn't get the response he wanted, he went back to the sweet approach. So in the middle of his emails about how much he still loves me and how we can work it out, I received a lovely package at my door, which was a lawsuit accusing me of abducting the children. (This couldn't be further from the truth, because in reality although I did flee a domestic violence situation, he had taken the passports before I could do that, and it was only after he gave them back to me with full knowledge of the flight we were on and that we were returning to our home that the children and I finally left). At any rate, there it was, this horrible lawsuit. I mention this because I want to fully show the context in which this next little item came. This monster, who just filed this horrible thing against me (luckily there is no merit to it), sent me a message last night stating that he only filed it because I filed for the Order of Protection, and that he would drop it if I accepted one condition. Are you ready for the condition? Are you REALLY ready? Here it comes: I have to agree to what he described as, "one final date with me." !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Are you as gobsmacked as I was???? A date? Is he completely insane? And a "final" date, what's that? It was very creepy, in a, pervert/stalker/serial killer kind of way. I suddenly had visions of me, sitting in a chair all tied up and a gag in my mouth on our "date," as he beams and coos about our undying love and how happy we'll be. It's utterly astonishing how clueless some people can be. He really seems to be so twisted that he has no idea how horrible his behavior is. And there's more: the morning after receiving that creepy note, I found an email from his long-lost, grown up son whom I've never met nor even EVER seen a picture of. Suddenly this son, who just by the way had never met his father until he was 13, was verbally attacking me for having the gaul to leave his "dad." This arrogant and totally clueless person tried for two pages to accuse ME of having done a terrible thing, so much so that he and his lovely fiance' (also whom I've never met nor heard of), were considering post-poning their wedding plans because I've so affected their suddenly close-knit family. Again, I was gobsmacked. Speechless. I sat there for quite some time just staring at his letter, wondering how on earth he could presume to know anything about what life with Derek is like. I'll admit that I felt indignant; I wanted to immediately reply with all the reasons that he was presumptuous and wrong, and defend myself for my actions. But I didn't. In spite of my emotions, I knew that, for whatever motivation he had, I didn't need to justify myself to him, nor would it bring anything to rail against his father just to prove a point. So I let it go. (Well sort of, I'm venting about it here). So that was yesterday. Flowers. Lawsuit. Threats. Creepy date invitation. Letter from long-lost son. Oh and let's not forget that cow on tv who wrote all of those books and made me feel inadequate! Humph. Maybe I should lay off the caffeine for awhile. Until next time, dear, dear friends...

On the flipside...

This morning as I put on my makeup, there was a woman on Fox News spouting off about the mosque at ground zero. She looked scholarly and professional and exuded confidence as she sat there, waxing lyrical about this and that, and everyone was mesmerized by her jewel-like tones. And that was fine. Then suddenly they flashed a shot of her latest book -- some fat, six hundred-page soliloquy on the state of modern America. And that did it. I just snapped. In the 3.5 seconds I saw that book flash across the screen, a heat swelled up inside of me like a snarling bull. That Bitch didn't look a day over 28 -- if that -- and there she was on tv, sharing her opinions as if they somehow mattered more than mine, AND she had somehow managed to have a book published, too? All probably before her 30th birthday?! And it was one of many, I would soon learn. Great. Good for her, miss young and successful -- hooray! It was too much. It was just too, damn much. Why? How? WHY??!! I was incredulous. For what seemed like forever I just stood there, motionless in front of the bathroom mirror, my mascara wand drying up in my hand. For a long time I didn't know what this empty feeling was that this complete stranger had obviously touched. What was this really about? And then it finally hit me. Failure. This is what it felt like. And it SUCKED. Why was she up there on the tv screen, the literal picture of success, and I was down here, still in my bathroom at 8:30 on a Wednesday morning still trying to get the cowlick out of my bangs? What other amazing things would she do today as I barely managed to get my kids to school and apply for more menial jobs online that someone obviously posted and yet that no one seemed to ever fill? I was supposed to be her. And I think I was for awhile, a long time ago. What the hell happened? With a sigh I finished my eyelashes while making a mental note that I needed to buy more lotion and toothpaste, and briefly contemplated whether I wanted the Crest Whitening again or the Colgate that had those fancy "whitening strips" in it. Ahhhh. Time to begin another day. and even in my funk, I knew that I was the only one who could make it count for anything. But would I... I should. I could. I even knew that. So what was my problem? I wanted to slap myself in the face and say, "Whatever it is, get over it! Stop being such a baby! You've done fine in life, but right now you've got to fight to get to the next thing, just do it, already!" But I didn't. Where was the fire that got me over that huge mountain just a few short months ago? We are all creatures of light. But light moves. I can feel mine, burning hot or fading, depending upon my strength at any given moment. Sometimes it takes a great deal of energy to keep its intensity, but when you can, great victories are won. Today I seem to be a little on the wimpy side. And so I said to myself, "I know that light is all around you. And that no one else can step into it for you. Step into the light where you belong. What are you waiting for?" Christ is often depicted as being surrounded by light; bathed in it. so radiant was his energy that it literally overflowed out of him; his God essence seeping from every pore and bursting through in shards of blazing light. Many ethereal creatures are shown with this light. And I believe in each of us, there is such a thing. Light is inside of you; you are light. Perhaps this morning I lost my light, a little bit. Tomorrow will be better. In the meantime, keep pushing forward until next time, dear friend...

Dinner for Schmucks

What a fantastic weekend I had with my kids. We went to the beach where I attended an old high school get together. All of my old chums from school brought their kids, and it was just a fun atmosphere where everyone pitched in and watched the little ones, helped with sunblock and snacks, and just laid back. It was great to see familiar faces and catch up, and also interesting to hear who was married, who was not, and why. My kids didn't want to leave and were utterly exhausted when we did, falling asleep with mouths hanging open in mid-sentence before I could fasten their car seats. Of course in the midst of all the fun, I had some fun of my own trying to imagine what this day would have been like if Derek had come with us. It's a fun game because I know that first of all, this day would never have happened. For him to lower himself to spend time with my old friends and (gasp!) some old boyfriends, too -- would have brought pain and suffering down upon everyone within a three-mile radius, and the number of times I would have heard about his sacrifice afterwards wouldn't make it onto just one calendar. But okay, I realize that's a typical marital problem: lots of spouses dread going to old-friend and relative functions. Fair enough. With Derek however the misery and yes, anger over an experience like that would not have been mainly about my friends, it's just the way he chooses to process most happy get-togethers, regardless of the crowd's make-up. Christmas dinner, New Years dancing, Easter brunch, birthdays and even our anniversary are all opportunities for him to criticize, complain, and, oh yes, blame me. Yaaay. Nowhere is there a bigger wet blanket than Derek. Even when we used to go to dinner at a fabulous steak house with great atmosphere and a flurry of eager staff just waiting on our every need, if we saw a party nearby where people were laughing and smiling amongst each other, Derek would scowl and glare disapprovingly at them: "My god," he would hiss, "What horrible people. Unbelievable how ridiculous some people can act. They have no manners at all, just a bunch of pigs..." and on and on he would go with his critical commentary, never forgetting to add that these laughing people were ruining his good time, as if we were ever having one in the first place, ugh! Exasperating. "But they're just happy," I would say rather half-heartedly, my head cocked to the side like a confused puppy. That happened so many times and each time I sat at a table with Derek and experienced this episode I thought to myself, "Yeah, they're laughing alright, and they're loud, and they're smiling at each other, and I want to be at their table, my table sucks!" Well now I'm at their table. Metophorically speaking. This weekend was my time to be "at their table." And guess what -- it's a lot more fun over there! After the beach festivities a friend of mine sent me a note and said, "You should email so-and-so, she couldn't make it this weekend but she was married to a schmuck too, so many of our friends were it seems; you guys all belong to the strangest club!" I thought that was so funny; there's this movie out right now -- "Dinner for Schmucks." It's about something having nothing to do with abusers, but the title is still spot on for many, MANY of the dinners I've had. I guess the only question is who was the schmuck at my dinners: my husband, or me for being there in the first place. It doesn't even matter. I've canceled that reservation. Bye bye, Schmuckie. Until next time, dear friends...

Dear friends you're so right...

You pals of mine "out there" are right on the money when you say that Derek will resort to any tactic to get to me, or get me back, I guess is what it is, even though to me the idea of going back to a life with him is more horrifying than having a bikini wax, a mammogram and a pap smear all at the same time (is that too much information?) Ugh..........but it's true, as INSANE as this sounds -- because it is -- I have to tell you that while this lovely man was filing claims against me alleging child abduction and abuse and many other baseless lies that he can never substantiate, he actually had the big brass ones to send me roses -- twice -- the first one with a card that simply had a date on it: 7-10-05. For five days I racked my brain as to what that date could mean, and then I remembered, of course, we met in a foreign place, we had a holiday, and that was the day of our first kiss. Awwwww.....I'll bet you're just tearing up right now. The second dozen came a week later and had a card that said, "I will always love you." That was last week. This week, I've received two emails. In the first one, he tried a scare tactic: "Listen, Stacey, you can't just ignore me...we can still work this out but now it will be with some conditions...this can get very expensive and I will spend my last dime but I don't know if that's an option for you...in spite of what you think I still love you and always will...blah blah..." You can be assured that I did not respond. In the second email, he didn't write anything, but instead creatively cut and pasted a several years old email that I had written to him about how much I loved him and what a great couple we were, as if to remind me of my own words. Thanks so much. Yes, I said those things -- YEARS AGO -- and guess what? None of it happened! You didn't turn out to be a great team member, you didn't turn out to be my best friend whom I can turn to in good and bad times, you didn't even turn out to be an okay friend who I can just sit in the living room with and watch tv. You turned out to be a controlling, mean, nasty, abusive jerk. So null and void that note, Derek. That's what I could say, want to say, but don't worry, to that, too, I did not respond. Nor will I. It just does my brain in sometimes however that he could be so crazy, I guess is the operative word, to follow through with very serious legal allegations that demand full custody of the children and their immediate return to him, and yet while that's going on, unspoken, he sends flowers and tells me how much he loves me. Is there even a drug out there to combat something like that? He's nuts. Simply put. I hope I never see him again, although that is at this point a just a hope. I saw a picture of him flash across my computer screen yesterday and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I instantly felt a flush of panic to see him looking right at me, even through a photo, as if he can somehow see me and will come to life at any second. Just from one picture, everything in me said, "Panic, he's here!" I can't look at anything he owns or has touched a lot in this house, it sends shivers down my spine. And now he's playing this...GAME. It's creepy, and horrifying, and at the same time just plain stupid and annoying. If that makes any sense. I think all of these abusers are just alike, working from the same script. They all play these games and resort to desperate tactics, and yet none of them come with warning labels: "Please be advised that prolonged exposure to this person can cause damage to your heart, upset brain function, drain your wallet, and crush your self-esteem. Do not attempt to operate machinery, set personal goals or offer your opinion when operating around this individual. Do not leave unattended. Do not use near open flame, as this individual may self-combust. This individual is "as is," and is not transferable or returnable. Do not attempt to leave this individual, or severe financial, physical and mental damage may occur, maybe even death. Enjoy your new relationship." No, they just don't make them with warning labels. If only. But they do come with warning signs for those who care to take them seriously. I sure do now. Until next time, dear friends....

A new kick in the stomach...

Wow, how I could ever, still feel even the tiniest bit of sadness for him has really got me mad at myself. When you're up against an abuser, you can't let your guard down for one, single second or they will see that hole in your shield and send the arrows flying. Here I sit, trying like an idiot to file for divorce and serve him with the order of protection, with no success because he avoids the service, so in the meantime he's been at work in another country doing virtually the same thing! This afternoon I was greeted at my door by a process server who handed me papers in which Derek is claiming that I am the abuser, that I left without his knowledge, which isn't true because he gave me back the passports to leave, and he's claiming that he's the fit parent and that I should be immediately ordered to return the children to him and that he should have sole custody! Horror of horrors, NEVER! NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, under any court, anywhere would I leave my children alone with that man for lunch, much less to live without me in the picture, no way! Then he had the nerve to send me an email tonight asking to please let him say goodnight to the kids before they go to bed! I wanted to jump right through the computer and scream at him for what he's trying to do, but I didn't respond at all; no good can come of that. Oh, this is upsetting, but I'm trying to see it logically: surely his public record of domestic violence as filed right here in our county will serve to corroborate my claims, plus since my order of protection was filed, my son was interviewed by a children's advocacy service and he actually conveyed some of the abuse by his father to the authorities himself, which surely should count for something. He's more vile than I ever thought, truly. Tomorrow my whole agenda is off the plate. I'm going straight to my attorney's office to address this fully. There are dozens of witnesses and character witnesses who could attest to what a controlling and abusive man Derek is, but of course these are people who are all afraid to come forward; afraid to get involved because many of them live close to him. In any case, just before my doorbell rang I was feeding the kids and heating up some spaghetti for myself. As soon as I read what the summons was about, my appetite took a holiday and my stomach was quivering as if someone had kicked me with a steel boot. I wanted to grab my babies and hold them to me as tightly as I could; I wanted to squeeze them so hard that they would just melt back into me and be safe. And yet they had no idea, as they sat there, eating their chicken nuggets and apples. For a moment I just stood in the kitchen with the papers dangling from my hand, not sure what to do: what was I doing, again? Getting milk? No, laundry. No, was I eating? Oh, I don't know. But soon, if I don't get it together pretty fast, my kids will start to worry. "What is it, mommy?" Dillon will ask. And then, "What, mommy?" Ella will echo in the wake of her big brother. I couldn't have that. So even though I wanted to panic, to cry and scream, to rock in a corner holding my knees, I didn't do any of that. Instead, I went to the living room with my kids, and tickled them. And hugged them. And spun them around. And just tried to keep myself together even though my mind was in a completely different place. So now I'm telling you because I want to tell someone but I also don't want to get on the phone and panic everyone tonight. I just want to say here, the one time. And then I'll go sit down on the couch, and feel a bit numb until it's time to go to bed. And if I can sleep, that will be mercy. And when tomorrow comes, I'll go to the fight, all claws fully out. Wednesday is the next court hearing about the Order of Protection. Since Derek hasn't been served, I don't think he'll be there, but given his latest scheme of lies, maybe he will be. Who knows. All I know is that tomorrow I have a new mission. Protecting my kids. Again. And just when I was about to relax a little. Shame on me. Until next time, I'll keep you posted, dear friend...

Settling in...

Well my babies and I have been "free" for over a month, and I guess we should be settled by now. And in many respects we are: we have a home, food, clothes, a school, and we've done the round of meeting up with old friends and loved ones and sharing the good, if not tumultuous, news. Even so, I'm still looking for work and also trying to get my husband served with papers, both for the order of protection and for the divorce, but he's deliberately avoiding this process. He doesn't show up to court, which doesn't surprise me, but I know him: he checks public records regularly, and I'm sure he knows full well what the court dates are and exactly what I've done with regards to filing for divorce. If I can't get him served, it makes divorcing much more difficult, so that's a bit of a bur in my side at the moment. He's stayed scarce, though. He hasn't rushed over and camped outside of the house, or left creepy letters in my mailbox or anything, but he did send me roses twice. The first time the card simply had a mysterious date on it, which after much thought I realized was the date of our first kiss. The second time, the card said, "I will always love you." I can see what's happening here, and anyone about to leave an abuser should be prepared -- he's trying the lovey-dovey route to get me to re-think my actions and start up a dialogue. I haven't responded at all, nor will I. But here's the rub -- I know how this works, because I know how HE works -- if I don't respond to this soft sell, then his sentimentality will turn to anger and he will distort his sadness into rage and convince himself that I'm the monster and he's the victim. He'll turn me into a bitch who deserves only badness, and that's when the months of venom stretch into years of bitterness, and he will vow to himself to get me one way or the other. I know, because he's gone through this with his ex-girlfriend, and has said to me over the years all of the things he thinks she deserves for taking his daughter away from him. I used to say, "But you wouldn't really want any harm to come to her, would you, because she's your daughter's mother." That never seemed to phase him. This weekend I watched several shows on MSNBC about murders committed by spouses or children who were abused -- some "only" verbally and mentally -- until one day they snapped and killed the abuser. Now they sit in prison, guilty of a sin that is so tragic, and that somehow gave the abuser the final point, since the victim has lost their lives as well. As I watched each one, I'm serious when I say that I really and truly believe that I've saved my children from a devistating path, where something like that could one day have happened, and even if it never did, the sadness and anger that these people felt because of the years of abuse they endured had overtaken their lives like a cancer until there was nothing left for them but anger, resentment and frustration. I feel certain that my son, at the very least, would have either gotten so down on himself that he could have one day been suicidal, or he would have become so filled with repressed anger that he would have one day retaliated against his father, and that's when violence really gets out of hand. I know these are all hyptheticals, but as I watched these shows, I could just see my life and my kids lives ten years down the road, and I was SO grateful that we're out of that man's grip, I just can't express it. I guess the message here is to anyone who has children in this situation and is hesitating to leave. Even without knowing your specific situation, I can say that no one can benefit or even really exist with a controlling, abusive person lording over them. It will take its toll on your children, and on you. There's no easy way to leave, but there's no easy way to stay, either. You only get one life, and that's not a life, is it. Even with my unknown income and job status, my children and I are so happy to spend time together at home, because for the first time, we can relax. At mealtimes, my son used to literally look over his shoulder several times while eating, and ask me, "Is daddy here?" And I did the same thing -- I used to constantly get up and look out the window toward the gate to see if he was coming because I was always so on edge. How crazy is that! Of course I don't miss it. When my husband tries this sad, pathetic tactic of missing me, etc., yes, somehow it makes me sad, too, but not because I miss him. Just because I don't like being attached to any action that makes someone else so devistated, even him. And I know that as necessary as it was, our leaving did devistate him. Let's face it, if he had known how horrible he really was, he surely wouldn't have done it?? But in the end it doesn't matter. You have to leave, it's the only way to breath. And we're breathing fresh air for the first time. Until next time, dear friend...

My own Independence Day

This weekend our country celebrates its independence, but as the fireworks crackle and ribbons of red, white and blue splash across the tv screen, I'm giving thanks to my own new-found independence. I left Derek on June 8. Now June is over, and am I completely on my feet? No, not really. It looks like it on the surface: we're in our own condo with our own things, I have a car, and the kids are in a good school. But I still don't have a job, and the weekdays are spent between my attorney's office filing divorce papers and the court, sending yet another set of protection order papers through the mail in the vain hope of getting Derek served with what is now the second court date. It's not done; there are a lot of details still waiting to be resolved. Derek may not just fade into the past like I would wish him to; he might just show up in court and fight me. I don't like it, but the truth is on my side and I'll be ready. Since we left Derek, I've been both in crisis mode and in holiday mode, coping with some serious stress and yet rejoicing at the same time. It's a strange feeling, but you learn to live with it. I've been eating way too much of all the things I could never eat with Derek, and I've been visiting with old friends, all of whom were off limits to me in the old life. Now that July is here though I really have to face the future head on, and start getting onto my own two feet. As I embark on a new life, I'm bathed in the comfort of how happy it is just to be home with my children. I know I've said it before, but weekends used to be the long, dreaded stretch of time that I had to somehow fill with the kids outside of the house, because Derek was home resting and absolute silence was required at all times. Weekends used to be a nightmare, and now they're so relaxing. Now, Saturdays are what they should be, what they used to be for me as a kid. My son watches his favorite cartoons on the couch, whereas before he was confined strictly to his room with the door closed, he and Ella play and wrestle and laugh and chase each other. We all did a Billy Blanks workout video in the living room, again, something that we NEVER could have done before. The kids drew pictures and colored, also a new thing for us. And breakfast, or any other meal, is so nice. They help me set the table and unload the dishwasher, and we all sit together and actually TALK with each other, imagine that! Before the kids weren't allowed to speak at the table, and meals were a time when Derek just screamed at us for a hundred small infractions. Now, yes, we are FREE from that oppressive, chest-tightening life. Dillon is so much more relaxed too -- he no longer has the aggression that was beginning to fester within him. Yesterday I took Dillon to his first live show, Curious George. We had such a great time, and I guess it's just another example of how in some ways -- the most important ways -- how quickly life can stabilize if you never forget who you are inside. Then when you finally do leave -- and it's very hard to leave -- but when you finally do, you know who you are and what you want your life to be like. And it comes almost immediately. There are so many moments when I'll be doing something and I can still hear the echoes of Derek's voice screaming at me for it, but that voice will fade. Even if I have to face him in court, the horrible memory of living beneath him will fade. So happy Independence Day to me, Dillon and Ella. Until next time, dear friend...

Old fears, new fears

Well for that brief moment this week that I felt guilty over hurting Derek, he just eased my pain a bit. After all of his initial crying, sobbing, begging, pleading and beseeching me to come back to him, now that the protection order is in effect and he knows that I'm not going to be dissuaded, his true colors are coming back out. He sent me an email saying that everything I said are lies, that I won't be able to remain in our home, that it won't be as easy as I think, and that he will fight me this time (it's the second time I've left him, but the last time was years ago and I still loved him then). So my court date regarding the protection order is soon, and I have to wait on pins and needles to see if he turns up in court. I really hope he doesn't, but if he does, I'm ready to face him and whatever fire I have to run through to emerge from this victorious. When I was with Derek, I feared leaving, and I did it. Now I fear his retaliation, but I'll face it. He's a bully, and most bullies are really cowards when you put them to the test. My old fears have been replaced by new ones, some real and others imagined. I fear that I won't find a job that I like (I've been trying for over a year, so my fears are really founded!) I fear that no one will hire me and I'll go broke and my children will suffer; I fear that he will get visitation, I fear, I fear...and yet the kids and I are so much happier in our daily lives; we laugh together, and play, and Dillon is so much calmer, as am I. In only two weeks, Dillon has stopped being whiny and crying at the drop of a hat, he listens better, he's overly helpful around the house, and he's just a happier little boy all around. It's incredible. Children are wonderful at getting you to live in the moment, and that's been a great therapy for me, keeping me from brooding or wallowing. Both Dillon and little Ella keep me real. Today they spent twenty minutes walking around in my shoes, and I loved it. They got spanked for that before, and screamed at. Derek was always looking for that confrontation, he was always looking for a fight. Now we have pillow fights, and tickle fights, and fights over who gets to lick the yogurt lid. Before, when Dillon wasn't allowed to hug his sister goodnight or even say goodnight and wave to her without Derek getting angry, now we all go into Ella's room and read a story, and then Dillon hugs her and tells her to have a nice sleep. He's part of the family now, imagine that. It's just the three of us, without the bitter, venomous dark cloud that hung over us before. It's sad that it was that way, but it's wonderful that it's not that way anymore. So I still have fears. The sad Derek has gone away and the angry Derek has promised me a fight. I stress about not having a job and not finding one. I don't know what's going to happen about a great many things. But I do know one thing: when we're in our home now, we're in the moment and we're happy. My children are truly happy. For whatever it means, Dillon hasn't asked about his father once. That's speaks volumes. Until next time, dear friend...

Bittersweet victories...

Well it's true that since we've left and we're on our own, our home life is really quite wonderful. Tonight before Ella's bedtime, we all piled into her bed and tickled each other, we took turns making "razberries" on each other's tummies, and then we read a bedtime story. It was so wonderful, and it was something we could never, never do before. Dillon is so caring, and he's been proud to be able to help around the house, to show Ella how to brush her teeth, and how to fold her little shirts. Even after just one week, we've all relaxed and now when I pick him up from school and I say we're going home, instead of crying he says, "Yaaay, home!" Seriously! So that's all fantastic, and I give thanks every single day, sometimes hourly for it. It was a long time coming, but I went to battle and I won. Not only are we out of a home with Derek's oppressive and controlling iron hand, but we are somewhere safe, happy, and we can build a life. Today I had a first step victory in that a judge granted my request for an order of protection, meaning that Derek can't have any contact with me or the children and he can't come back to our home. It's temporary until the hearing, but it's in place, and so it's a victory for us, to be sure. One step at a time. I'm doing it. It took four hours to get it done today, spending the day at the court house, filling out paper work, writing a statment and then going through a lengthy interview process. I kept it together and I did it. FOR THE SECOND TIME. And I never want to do it again. Never. I kept it together, and I did it. But as I was leaving to begin the wait until the afternoon to hear whether or not the judge granted it, the weight of it all overtook me and I started to cry like a little girl, walking down the street, sniffling and swiping at my nose with my sleeve as though my ice cream had just fallen into the gutter. But it wasn't my ice cream, it was my life. My life was down there in that gutter, and I had just thrown it there, purposefully and irrevocably. At least that's how it felt. Oh I knew the whole time that it was what I had to do, but what was hurting me so much, what was causing my chest to heave with a painful heaviness was the realization that I had just hurt someone else unbearably. It was Derek, I know, but however horrible he was to us, I know he was and is so sick that he will still feel the full brunt of the pain of our leaving, however cruel he was, however spiteful, however badly his words stung, for whatever he did, I realized, all in a moment walking down that sidewalk to my car, that it never feels good to hurt someone else LIKE THAT. Even Derek. Today, I broke him. Today I won. And it was as awful and empty a victory as you could imagine, even though it was just. For the rest of the day, I vacillated from feeling strong, optimistic, brave and grateful one minute to feeling SO sad, despondent even, and so very mean and empty. I feel for anyone, even Derek, who will go through the pain that I know he will go through, and it doesn't feel good to know that I made it happen. On the other hand, I really didn't make it happen. He did. He made it happen with every spiteful, venemous word he spat at me, with every nasty, angry insult he slung, with every harsh hand he raised to me or my son, with every slam of a door, with every scream, with every nightmarish, controlling, ritual, with all of it, HE -- and not I -- MADE it happen. Today is my victory, although I'm not fully there yet. The order is temporary. But it's a small victory, nonetheless. Even so, I don't feel proud, I don't feel boastful, or joyous, I feel somber, like a part of me has died. The old part, that had to hear she was stupid, selfish, dumb, a liar, an idiot, and all the rest of it. And something else. The part of me that might have been, if Derek could only have found the good that was in him. I guess today I mourn for all that should have been. But that never could be. So that's it. I'm okay. It's just strange. I'm overwhelmingly grateful that we are protected. And I never lose sight of that; I never lost sight of those things that I must do in order to keep myself focused on a good life for us. But today was bittersweet. I guess that's all I wanted to say. Until next time, dear friend...

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...

The countdown's on...

Holy crap I've never snuck around this much in my entire life; there's been so much preparing to do, knowing that I only get one chance to do it right and then we're outta here! Yesterday there was a birthday party for one of Dillon's little friends. I told Derek that we would be a bit later than usual, sometime after 6. He didn't seem to care, but of course, when we walked through the door at 6:35, he was insane with rage that I hadn't been home earlier to fix his dinner. He screamed for a good half hour as I got the kids showered, dressed and into bed. Thank God they'd already had dinner at the party. With each rant, scream, insult, curse and hurtful phrase, I secretly thanked him for making it easier; for confirming in every insult that I'm doing the right thing; for reminding me with every bellowing scream, of all the times in the last four years that I've prayed that we could leave. And now we really are. There's not much time left. I'm still nervous, but I'm very focused on what I need to do, and the countdown's on! Until next time, dear friend...

Steel Magnolia...

As you know the big day is coming, and the more I make a mad dash for the car in the morning carrying some secret stash to my friend's house, the more my nerves frazzle. As I mentioned before. Also as I mentioned, I have some (only some, mind you) guilt about how devastated he will be when we go; how for him his life will seem like it's over. So to cure myself, I just went back and read my very first blog, and then I read the second, and I kept reading, feeling so much pain for this person I was reading about, and so much contempt for this bastard who was mistreating her. It's amazing how quickly the heart can shroud itself and the mind can erase the details of painful events, so that we're able to move on, and as I read, it all came rushing back, just how abusive this guy is. Maybe that sounds crazy to you; that I could possibly "forget," but it's not really that. I know what he is, but some of the details, the exact phrases, or the reasons he went into a rage, fade with time. Particularly motivating is when I read anything about my children being affected by this man. It brought tears to my eyes. Then I went back and read all of the comments to those posts, and I feel overwhelmed with gratitude at the support, and especially to those of you who've shared your own stories with me of similar situations from which you've escaped. Very soon my children and I will join that group. But in these final days, your thoughts and comments are proving invaluable to me. Thank you, so much. Until next time, dear friend...

Naughty butterflies...

There are only a handful of days left now before we're on a plane. In preparation, I have to do a lot of sneaking around, pre-packing things that he won't notice, or that I hope he won't notice; copying documents that I will need later, documents that it would otherwise seem strange for me to be copying; rehearsing the day in my mind, exactly how it will go and the order of things; it's all making me so nervous. I can see that he suspects absolutely nothing, which is extremely good, but it also underscores just how absolutely shocked and utterly devastated he will be. Because I know that he doesn't know himself, and he won't understand, I know what this will do to him, and I hate doing that to anyone, least of all the father of my children. I do keep ever foremost in my mind, however, the venomous, degrading and hateful things he's said to me and my son, the horrible treatment and the spirit-crushing rules under which we are forced to live and I always conclude that I'm doing the right thing, believe me. That won't change. I'm moving forward every day. But it doesn't change the fact that I'm getting really f---ing nervous, about the day itself, and about what he will want to do to me afterwards. Yes, I know I have to just push through the pain, push through the nerves and get on with it, and I am. But it's here talking to you that I bare my weakness for a moment. I hope when I get out of this that it will have inspired someone else to do the same. Until next time, dear friend...

Mean makes it easier...

There's not much time left before we go, and since Derek is being true to his nature and back to having his daily tirades, as horrible as it is, it almost makes it easier to plan all the things I've planned in secret. Each time he calls me an idiot, a moron, a horrible person, and all the rest of it, I think, "Good, go ahead, you're just confirming and reaffirming for me that I'm so glad we're leaving!" Yesterday I met him for breakfast as usual, following a phone episode where he screamed at me for scheduling the housekeeper on a day that he claims I did not clear with him. He was irate, telling me I'm selfish, unorganized, don't have my shit together, I'm the most idiotic person he's ever met, and on and on. I got to hear this as I was driving to meet him for breakfast. Once I got there, I sat down and he was complaining about the service today; how he had no water yet, no toast, and how the staff moved like "dumb monkeys who should go back to the trees." "Should I get some toast?" I offered, since it's at a self-serve bar. "How dumb are you?" he snapped, "The toaster isn't working, you idiot. Do you see toast here? You think I'm so dumb I couldn't get it myself?" This is the kind of baiting that still stings horribly, but with only days to go I think, "Oh yeah, you're a real jerk, alright, I'm SO glad we're leaving!" Still, it's hard to remain silent and this time I couldn't. "No," I countered, "I was trying to be HELPFUL." I said with emphasis. "Someone is trying to be NICE to you. But I know you don't care about that." "No, I don't care. You know what -- get out of my sight. Sit somewhere else. You make sick." he said, waving his hand dismissively at me. I SO wanted to get up and leave, but I knew that would spark a firestorm of anger that could cause me problems during this last critical week, so I stayed put, just taking it. Somehow we got through breakfast and he moved on to other topics, some normal and others peppered with comments like, "What are you saying, who thinks like that, please, just stop talking." That night, when I was making dinner, Derek descended from his lair upstairs to come down and scream at the kids for a bit. They were both eating, and before he was even off of the stairs, he screamed across the entire room for Dillon to sit up straight. Then he screamed at Ella to stop making such a mess and that she's a pig (she's only 1 1/2). Then he screamed at me that I was just standing there doing nothing about all of these horrible infractions, that I'm clueless, useless, etc. etc. Whenever Dillon would turn his head around to look at him as he screamed, Derek would scream for him to turn around and mind his own business. He worked himself into such a frenzy of anger toward me over all of this that he said, "You can just stop what you're dong, I'm not eating any of it! Thank you, Stacey, I've completely lost my appetite!" I continued cooking his dinner anyway, and served it to him on the couch as usual. But he sat there like a two-year-old, refusing to even look at it. "I told you I'm not eating it. You can take it away." This, coming from someone who screams at me about being wasteful. Except for the screaming at me and the kids, I actually found his display ridiculous and exactly like a naughty child. He's so immature, it just mystified me. I left the plate of food on the coffee table all night, until he fell asleep and finally I decided that it was no good to actually waste it, so I put it away. At that point he awoke, still angry and not speaking to me, and I sat in silence on the couch (on my designated couch, that is), dutifully watching as he flipped the channels around at will. Finally he retreated back upstairs without a word to me. Later, when I went to bed, he was back to "normal," trying to tickle me and poke me, much like a schoolboy who has a crush but doesn't know how to tell the girl, so he pulls her hair and teases her. That's what Derek does. He tries to make up by being playful. Yuk. Earlier, as I was cleaning up the remains of his dinner, I tried to imagine the night very soon when it would be the very last dinner that I made him. I wonder then if he'll miss it. In the midst of his tirade last night, he had declared again, that I'm "no good" for him, that he doesn't need me, and that things had to change. Wish granted. Until next time, dear friend...

Bridges burned...

In spite of everything I know to be true about Derek being abusive, I also know that when we leave, he will feel absolutely betrayed, deceived and wronged in every way, and it will only serve to confirm for him that no one, women especially, can be trusted. When I think back on the last 4 years, I am reminded of the many relationships in Derek's life that have ended badly, and how many bridges have been burned. With each one, he felt horribly wronged, and viciously blamed the other party, when in truth I could see even then, that the only common denominator to all of it was Derek. At first I mentioned it to him: "You seem to make a lot of enemies in your life," I said, "and having these horrible blows with people should be the rare exception in your life, not the rule." "Life is hard," he countered, "and people can never be trusted. They'll all screw you in the end if you let them. You have to come on strong if you want respect." Of course he couldn't be more wrong. It's sad, really, how far off track he got in his life, but as with all of us, whatever you believe is what happens. And for Derek, everyone is an enemy sooner or later. He pushes people until they're up against a wall and there's no option but to respond in some way, and when they do, he points his finger: "Ah, ha, see! I was right about them! Look at how they act! Look at what they said! I knew it!" or similar. Anyway, here's the list of people, in four short years, that I have personally seen go from friends to bitter enemies (in Derek's world -- many of these people don't feel the same; they're just glad to have him gone): 1. His business partner in Germany; 2. His mother and father; 3. His only sibling, a brother; 4. His best friend and the friend's wife in Germany; 5. Our wedding coordinator; 6. My OB/GYN from my first pregnancy; 7. Our first landlord; 8. His ex-girlfriend and mother of a child with him; 9. A former employer; 10. A former realtor; 11. A former client; 12. A former office landlord; 13. Another former housing landlord; 14. The current landlord (that's a work in progress); 15. His project manager (another work in progress); 16. His banker; 17. Several of my relatives, although to their great credit, they are as cheery as ever toward him; 18. One of my highschool friends; 19. Our current (strike that, as of today our FORMER) housekeeper; 20. Our former next-door neighbor (the police even got involved in that one, as well as in others). That's all I can think of right now. But that's twenty people in just over four years, an average of five relationships gone wrong per year! Now I ask again, WHO is the common denominator here?? Well I think I've illustrated my point. Very soon, I will be added to this esteemed list of mostly all very nice people (at least I thought they were very nice). I will be added to this list of enemies and I guess I should be honored: after all I'm in good company. But still, I don't like making enemies. I don't like being out in the world knowing that someone else is out there wishing me ill. But it's unavoidable. So onward I shall go. Until next time, dear friend...

The mind of the abuser...

The time is coming near that I will remove my children and myself from this sad and horrible situation. The closer that day gets, the greater roller coaster of emotions I experience in the course of a day. My decision never changes, but it's still very hard to process all the feelings that bubble up from one's self conscious once you finally decide to leave. Any act of kindness that he does show, however minimal or small, swells me with guilt, however those small acts are always in the middle of a day that is also filled with nastiness, name-calling, and utter disrespect; I never lose sight of that fact. Yesterday he came home in the middle of the afternoon and demanded to know who had been sitting on the couch. I didn't answer, as we'd had this "Who sat on the couch" conversation before, which I think is utterly ridiculous since there are other people who live in this house besides Derek. At any rate, he was irate because one of the pillows wasn't put back properly and that's how he knew. He screamed at me and when I didn't engage him, he threw the pillow across the room into my face. Then he threw another one, that zoomed past my computer screen and knocked over some files. I got up and went to the kitchen. Not getting the results he was after, he followed me, screaming that if I wasn't going to give him an answer then he wasn't going to give me money any more, and I could just "rot." Then he yelled at me to pick up the mess (that he had made). Later that day, when dinner was over and the kids were in bed, he was dancing around the kitchen and trying to tickle me, like nothing had ever happened. A little later still, we were watching tv and I commented on the program, to which he gritted his teeth in anger, closed his eyes and in pure frustration said, "Do you ever shut up? Do you have to comment on everything? What you're saying isn't even relevant. My God are you an idiot." A few minutes later, he was talking about this big house we should move into and how great it would be. That's how he is all day. Well, on the good days, I mean. On the good days, he has these jovial moments interwoven into the abusive episodes. I mean my gosh, this man threw things at me, screaming at the top of his lungs, and for him it's all in the course of a normal day. He apparently doesn't give it another thought. Apparently that's just how his mind works. So in the course of any given day, I'm supposed to be -- what -- happy, then sad, then scared, then happy again, then guilty, then hate myself, then happy -- I guess. That's how it was for the longest time, until I couldn't be happy during the "happy" bits anymore, because I knew for certain that it was only a matter of time before the next bomb would explode. It always did. And it always would, I know that now. When you pick a person like this, it takes a little while to see the pattern, and not excuse the single act away for whatever reason. It takes a little time to realize that everything in the home revolves around his moods, and eggshells are the only foundation beneath your feet. The pillow out of place that triggered his recent rage was the catalyst he was looking for, never mind the fact that as soon as I saw his car coming through the gate, I scurried around like a scared rabbit, closing the drapes, checking that the counters were clean, putting my things away, turning everything off, and trying to find something "approved" to be doing, meaning housework. It's insanity. But once you see the patterns of how the abusive mind works, the light can break through. The time is drawing near now. I'm very nervous for our safety, but I'm trying to be brave. Until next time, dear friend...