flashback

on december 13, 2003 i loaded up a uhaul truck and moved into apartment 13.

it was the first step in leaving a domestic violence marriage. 

it's been a lot of years and work and recovery since then.

remembering that i'm not required to wear make up to leave the house.

remembering that i'm not a piece of trash if i carry/wear my purse in a grocery store instead of putting it in the cart.

knowing that i'm not a stuck up whore for being proud that i graduated from college.

not being ashamed for having sexual desires.

not always being afraid of saying the wrong thing.

not trying to keep everything as perfect and smooth as possible because anything less would cause trouble.

not being on edge every time the phone rings and panicking if you don't answer fast enough because accusations will follow.

i've learned that i can talk about things that bother me in a relationship with out being berated and verbally descimated.

i've learned that i can stand up for myself without being threatened.

i was lucky in some ways. i was never hit. i was never put in the hospital. i never had to hide bruises or marks.

in other ways...bruises heal faster than the words in your head go away.

it's been nearly 15 years.

i've worked so hard to not let fear be my first instinct when things go wrong.

i've worked so hard to unlearn the words. to unlearn the reactions. to unlearn the cycle.

i've worked so hard to break the cycle. to not let myself get caught in it again.

i've stopped texting guys because the language and the tone was too familiar. i've broken off relationships because i heard phrases that triggered me. i've refused to shack up with anyone over the years to keep my family safe and keep my boys away from that lifestyle.

i didn't want them to learn abuse.

and yet, here we are.

things have been bad lately. they've actually been bad for a while. they've been really bad for the last few months.

i have a court appointment in the morning with juvenile court to try to get help for my son before things completely get out of control.

there's been lying, stealing, drug abuse, alcohol.

there's been run away reports and more calls to the local police department than i ever thought i'd have to make.

there's been threats, accusations, demands and verbal abuse.

at the lowest point, so far, my own son screamed at me as he was leaving that he was going to try to intentionally overdose that night as a final fuck you to me.

and then, a few days later, things are seemingly back to normal.

he came home, we went back to school shopping, did chores around the house, we even went to the theaters and watched a movie together.

but it's not normal.

and i know this feeling. it's been 15 years since i've felt this feeling, but i knew it instantly, intimately.

things are not normal. there is a storm back building. i'm not walking on egg shells, i'm walking on a field of land mines littered with razor blades and broken glass.

i know this part of the cycle.

it's the hardest part for me.

it's where the questioning comes in.

you're making too big of a deal of things. look how "normal" it is right now.

you're just being too sensitive.

you're reading into things too much.

they didn't really mean it, they were just mad.

you're just borrowing trouble.

you're going to make another blow up happen by expecting it.

you're just making things worse.

if you weren't so crazy this wouldn't be a problem.

why can't you just learn to not be so offended and stop taking everything so seriously?

it's scary how quickly the feelings take root. right back to where i was.

but how did my son learn this? he was 9 months old when we left.

is nature winning over nurture?

can i still correct this behavior?

i can't correct anything. can i show him a better way and help give him tools to make better choices?

i remember this feeling.

knowing that things aren't fine but not being able to put words to it so other people can understand.

you can feel the pressure of the storm coming but there's not a cloud in the sky.

it's looking at the calendar and trying to guess when/what will cause the next blow up.

is there a holiday coming up? an appointment? plans with people that you know will trigger resistance? things that need money? things that...

you try to become a fortune teller and a bomb diffusion expert at the same time.

i know we have court tomorrow. so maybe if i do this tonight...

maybe if...

what about...

you try to plan for all the contingencies. you try to prepare yourself. steel up your nerves and your resolve. try to stay calm even though all you want to do is throw up and cry and hide in a corner.

i have experience in my corner this time. i have survival. i have age and hard earned wisdom. i have friends. i have help.

i never expected myself to be here again.

and this time is different. this time i can't leave. this time i can't get a uhaul and a new apartment.

this time there is more at stake. this is my kid. this is his whole life ahead of him. this is every future relationship with a partner, with a boss, with a roommate. this is how he learns to interact with people for the rest of his life.

this is a hard battle. this is a continuing, learning, changing, shifting battle.

i'm terrified. i'm hurt. i'm worried.

but i'm not 23 this time. i have a lot of hard learned lessons under my belt. i'm stronger.

i can do this. there is no other option.

this is my kid.

i'll never quit fighting for him.