steadfast

i've spent my whole life hating myself.

there's these horrible, destructive voices stuck in my head that are so loud it's hard to hear anything else.

i've taken on blame and hate and negativity from other people for SO LONG, that it just...it became who i was. i believed them. in my journals, as far back as you look, there's been the common theme: "what's wrong with me?" and "why am i so broken?" i believed i deserved to be treated terribly. OF COURSE i was sexually assaulted as a teenager. OF COURSE i was raped as an adult. OF COURSE i was in a domestic violence marriage. OF COURSE i can't find a relationship. i deserved it all. i'm this horrible piece of trash, broken person. i was born a mistake and deserve every terrible thing since then.

BUT. HERE'S THE THING: THAT'S NOT TRUE.

i'm not a horrible person. i'm not a piece of trash. i'm not broken.

i AM a little weird. i'll own that one.

it's taken YEARS, to start to shift that conversation in my mind and stop listening to those voices. i'm still working on it EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. 

it's fucking hard work. really, really hard work.

but here's the bitch of it all: because i've thought of myself that way for so long, because i've believed the crap, because i believed all the HORRIBLE things, i kept allowing new people to treat me that way. why wouldn't they? and i've learned to distrust people that DON'T treat me that way. if anyone actually liked me, treated me kindly, maybe even loved me...there must be something wrong with them.

here's the really big bitch of all that: because i thought about myself that way, i let my kids think about me that way. I TAUGHT THEM to think of me that way. it's ok to make fun of mom being single. it's ok to say horrible things about mom. it's ok to yell insults and abuse. other people do, and she doesn't stop them. it's ok to just walk all over her, she won't stand up against it.

I TAUGHT MY KIDS TO HATE ME.

because i hated myself for so long.

that's a hard fucking pill to swallow.

and i'm not saying this out of self pity. i'm not saying this as yet another way to hate and blame myself. i'm saying this because if you want to change where you are, you have to acknowledge how you got there.

and i want to change. i NEED to change. 

especially when i'm staring at the results of all the hate every. single. day.

last year when i quit my job i started working on myself.

i left that job because i was tired of listening to people talk trash about me. i was tired of being groped while i sat at my desk. i was tired of listening to people openly bash everything about me: single parents, LGBT, tattoos, educated, nothing was off limits.

i started realizing i'm worth something. i'm worth standing up for. i'm worth liking.

in a strange way, i realized how insulting it was to people that i love and trust that i INSISTED on hating myself. how little do i think of my friends? do i really think they would keep a piece of trash friend around? a few of them even said as much to me: "it's really insulting that you believe i have such poor taste in people."

yes, i know that's a backwards way of looking at things, but hey, it got my attention.

and so i started changing. i started working on it. i started allowing myself a little more space to be MYSELF. to LIKE myself. i started just BEING. and, oddly, no one really seemed to care. they didn't leave in droves. i wasn't burned at the stake. if anything, the more real i allow myself to be with other people, the more real they become with me, and the deeper and truer the connections.

it's pretty sad that it took me 38 years to really, truly grasp this concept. BUT I'M WORKING ON IT. i've tried over the years. i've flirted with the idea of changing my mindset. i've worked on it over and over. i've taken classes, i've read countless books, i've tried so many different things. but when you're just dealing with symptoms instead of getting to the CORE of the issue, it never sticks.

here's the core: I'M A GOOD PERSON. i finally believe that.

i like me. i help others as much as i can. i will do everything in my power to help a friend that asks. i want to leave this world a better place than i came into it. i'm self aware. i'm intelligent. i'm thoughtful. i'm learning to ask for help. i have a decent sense of humor, maybe a little dark at times, but there it is. i have a lovely, comfortable home that's open to anyone. i've always been able to make home wherever we were. i'm a hard worker. i'm a good employee. i'm good at my jobs. i'm analytical and thorough. i'm willing to admit when i'm wrong and always looking for ways to be better. i'm careful and intentional about the choices i make. i'm dependable. i'm responsible. i'm honest, maybe a little too much.

BUT.

that's all new. being able to write that paragraph AND BELIEVE IT is completely new to me.

it still feels like bragging. it still feels like pride. it still feels conceited and wrong.

and it's still hard to believe it all the time.

so.

as hard as it is for me to change and believe it...as a person that ACTIVELY, PASSIONATELY wants to believe it and change...

how much harder is it for a fifteen year old kid that just wants things to be the way they've always been?

i'm sure there's other things going on- hormones, self discovery, struggle to become an adult, friends, girls, school, peer pressure...all the teenage things.

but at the core, at the true core of this issue is a fifteen year old kid that learned hate. he learned abuse. he learned to be mean and insulting and bully and take what he wants. I TAUGHT HIM THAT. and now i'm trying to change it and he has no stake or interest in that change.

so it's HARD.

suddenly mom isn't a push over any more.

no one wants to hear no. especially a teenager.

he's been saying for months: "i just want things back the way they were," and "it's so toxic around here and i hate it."

he doesn't realize the toxic atmosphere is because i've stopped absorbing all the toxicity. i've stopped taking on all the insults and the hate, so they just....hang there. they've run into a wall of: YOU CAN'T TALK TO ME THAT WAY.

that's new. that's different. so. YEAH, it feels crappy around the house when what always worked doesn't work anymore.

and then you have to try something bigger.

oh, just being mean and saying horrible things doesn't work anymore. let's try getting in her face and pushing. ok. that didn't work. let's try threats. oh, that didn't work, let's try skipping school. oh, that didn't work, let's try self harm and accusations. oh, that didn't work, let's try drugs and alcohol. that didn't work. let's try calling the cops...

and on and on it's gone. the escalation just keeps jumping and jumping because he's not getting his way. i'm not giving in. i'm not letting him walk all over me any more. and it's turned into a MASSIVE crisis. it's ugly and hard and scary and i don't know what's going to happen. i don't know where he slept last night. i don't know if he's safe or has clean underwear. i don't know if he's scared or hurt.

but i DO know he's still angry. i DO know he still thinks he can bully everyone into getting his way.

he thinks he can snap his fingers and the police will do as he commands. he thinks he can lie and get away with things. he thinks he can push around commissioners, lawyers, teachers, counselors. he thinks he can do what he wants, all day, every day, with no consequences. if anyone stands up to him, he will hurl all the abuse and hate at them he can. he will threaten others and even himself.

but if you want to live in my house, you need to treat people with respect. you need to contribute to the house. you need to contribute to your future. go to school. come home at the end of the day. be respectful of friends, ESPECIALLY GIRLS. don't steal. don't lie. don't threaten.

DON'T ABUSE.

i'm standing up and saying _I_ don't deserve to be treated this way. NO ONE does. and that's a fucking HARD, HARD change.

but it's necessary.

a friend just posted an article about a man that killed his wife and then took his own life just days after being arrested for assaulting a female taxi driver.

he thought he could just take what he wanted. when someone stood up to him, when someone called him on his terrible behavior, it escalated.

i don't know the full story, i didn't live his life. but i can bet that this wasn't the first time he treated someone this way. i can bet that if he was bold enough to treat a perfect stranger the way he did, his wife was getting 100 times worse at home. i can bet that there's a LIST of people that saw his behavior. i can bet that there's old girlfriends that aren't shocked by this news.

because i've been there.

i'm there now.

it has to change.

 

since this all started with the teenager, several months ago, there's been one word that comes to mind over and over and over and over: steadfast.

it's a calm word. it's a fierce word. determined. strong.



it's not an active word. i'm not flying into battle. i'm not raging.

i'm standing my ground. calmly. patiently.

i'm saying THIS NEEDS TO CHANGE.

i'm saying THIS IS NO LONGER THE WAY IT WILL BE.

i have to stand my ground.

i have to teach my son.

i have to teach him that he can't bully and hate his way into what he wants. i have to teach him behaviors and actions have consequences. if i let him treat me this way, the cycle will continue. there will be another person out there thinking about themselves the way i've been thinking about myself, and i wouldn't wish that on ANYONE. my heart breaks at the idea of another young woman facing YEARS of thinking she deserves to be treated this way. i know the dark, destructive, terrible self hate. i know it well. i don't want anyone else to feel this. ever. it absolutely guts me to think of him being mean and hurtful to a partner, a spouse, maybe his own children in the future. it crushes me to think he'll treat a boss, a roommate, a coworker the way he's been treating people now. i hate seeing how hard it is on his friends, his grandparents, all the people trying to help him now.

I HAVE TO BREAK THE CYCLE.

i have to.

i can't let this continue for generations to come.

I HAVE TO STOP THE HATE.

i have to.

i didn't teach him hate in a day.

it may take a long time to teach him a new way.

but i am to the task.

i will break this cycle. i will stop the hate. i will stop the hurt. i will teach him a better way.

what if it's true?

know how some weeks it just seems like the universe is bound and determined to get your attention about something but you don't know WHY?

that's this week for me.

the what? domestic violence.

the why? fuck if i know.

i am a survivor of domestic violence. i left 12/13/2003 and never went back.

i have been away for a LONG time. and my...i don't know what to call it...scars? doesn't seem right because a scar indicates something that is completely healed and can't be opened back up again. but these wounds have sure as fuck been opened back up again.

i have a child support hearing next week. the case hasn't been touched since it was initially finalized as part of the divorce in 7/2004. there's a change in amounts around age 13, so i figured, why not, see if maybe there's a chance at getting some extra support to cover sports, clothes, school, all the things. especially since the teenager outgrows everything the minute the tag is off.

i'm terrified of the support hearing. i know that there's a VERY slim chance he'll fly up from whatever state he's in for the hearing. but i HATE going to court. it's like going to the principals office- even if I did nothing wrong it's still nerve wracking as fuck. and what if he does fly in? and what if he brings the wife with him? she's a hard core mean girl. i'm sure she's pissed as fuck that i filed. i'm sure she's shared it all over her social network what a money hungry bitch i am- she had ENDLESS things to say after the divorce about me. hell, she even SCREAMED at me once over the phone for talking to him every day and trying to get him back and spending all sorts of time with him. her screaming quieted down a bit i told her i didn't know who he was talking to on the phone or seeing, but i hadn't seen or hear from him in months.

i'm terrified of having to face either of them again. it's been 13 years and i'm still sick when i think about having to face his lies and truth twisting- ESPECIALLY in court where judges really don't care what's true (or at least they didn't in stevens county) and just want to get through all the cases for the day.

earlier this week on twitter there was a hashtag #MaybeHeDoesntHitYou about non-violent domestic violence. reading through all the different responses was HARD. so hard. it brought back way too much baggage and way too much pain that i thought i was over.

maybe he doesn't hit you but he isolates you from all your friends and family.
maybe he doesn't hit you but he destroys your credit
maybe he doesn't hit you but he shames every part of who you are
maybe he doesn't hit you but he tells you every day that he hates you and wants you gone
maybe he doesn't hit you but you wish he would because bruises heal faster than words
maybe he doesn't hit you but he constantly criticizes your clothes and make up
maybe he doesn't hit you but he reduces you to tears every change he gets
maybe he doesn't hit you but even the kids know to be quiet to not set him off
maybe he doesn't hit you when you try to talk about your feelings you end up crying and apologizing for being wrong
maybe he doesn't hit you...

the list goes on and on.

i remember being SCREAMED at for hours because i put green beans in the tater tot casserole.

i asked him to go play cards with friends one thanksgiving and he threatened to have the sheriff arrest me for kidnapping if i made him go.

i remember him calling me every. single. day. at work to make sure i was where i said i was.

i remember him checking the caller ID every night when he got home to see who i'd been talking to.

i remember him intentionally draining the bank account so i couldn't buy groceries.

i remember him opening credit cards in my name without my permission and racking up THOUSANDS of dollars.

i remember forcing myself to write in my journal on the bad days so that on the good days i wouldn't trick myself into thinking i'd made it all up.

i remember sleeping on the couch for 6 months because breastfeeding was disgusting and he didn't want it anywhere near him.

i wasn't allowed to ever have pineapple in the house because it was disgusting.


one little hashtag and i was right back in the house we lived in, back in the emotions, back in the fear.

the same day i was at my kiddos baseball game, minding my own business, and one of the other parents started to talk to me. i'm not social by nature, but she started a conversation and i won't be rude, so i chatted with her while the game drug on.

she told me about her abusive ex. and becoming a domestic violence lawyer. and i talked about my history. and again, i was right back there.

and for the last few days i've been stuck there. because that sound track is hard as fuck to turn off once it starts.

especially.

especially when it's true.

all those things he said to me? he wasn't wrong.

he told me no one else would want me.

13 years later i can't even get a date.

and he's still married to the second mistress.

he told me i was worthless.

13 years later he's making $140K a year without even a high school diploma and i'm having to ask the court (him) for more money to help make ends meet.

he told me no one would want to be around me.

i'm completely and totally alone. all the time.

how do you turn off the sound track? how do you convince yourself he's wrong when he wasn't?

and i don't know why this is all coming up. i don't know why this is the theme of the week. i don't know what i'm missing. i don't know what lesson i haven't learned yet. i don't know why i have to think about all this all over again.

there's something i need to see. there's something i need to figure out. but fuck if it isn't hard not to just wallow and be in pain. again. and i know i'm better than that. and i want to believe he was wrong, but i'm having a hard time convincing myself otherwise.

i'll keep looking. i'll keep sorting. i'll keep working through it. but what if at the end, it's just true?

Femme Writes- Abuse: Getting Out

On the 5th of every month, bloggers from around the world are open to write about rights and issues concerning women. First started by Shine and Marie, we’re hoping to bring a variety of women’s issues to the forefront to make people aware of what’s going on. For the month of August, we’ve chosen to write about Physical and Mental Abuse. Please join us in telling us your stories, thoughts, and ideas on a monthly basis. To read previous installments, click here.

violence. abuse. shame. emotional scars. i’ve written about it all before in my blogs. it’s no secret that i’m a domestic violence SURVIVOR. hell, i have it tattooed on my leg. i’ll talk to anyone about what i’ve been through. i’ll try my damndest to help anyone get out of their own situation. talking to a friend the other day, long term goals came up and mine will always be that some day, when i’m all growed up, i want to own a piece of land outside of town with two houses on it- one for my little family, and one fully furnished, stocked to the gills, and ready to go for families needed a place to get away and start over from domestic violence. i want to have a place that won’t say no to people really, honestly looking for a way to get out. it will have long gated driveway that goes DIRECTLY past my house so no assholes can try to sneak in and do what assholes do best: convince the woman that just one more time…it will be different this time, really…

FUCK THAT NOISE. it’s never different. only worse. hellz no…my place is going to be a safe place. a place to start over, get your feet on fresh, solid ground, and go on to be another SURVIVOR like me. i want to turn victims into strong, outspoken survivors that go on to help more women and maybe eventually we’ll all be strong enough and outspoken enough that we’ll run out of victims to help. wouldn’t that be the perfect world? if this didn’t have to do posts on this topic? ever?

but, in the mean time, what is the point of this post? i’m not going to hash over my story again- if you want to read it there’s a few posts about it throughout my blog. i’ve never written about it from start to end…one of these days ill get around to that. but. suffice to say: shitty abusive marriage, and _I_GOT_OUT_.

and that’s what i want to talk about here- GETTING OUT. how i got out, the hope that others can get out, and the best advice i was ever given.

when i finally decided to leave i was 23, had a 5 year old and a 9 month baby, and was only working part time. not exactly the best conditions. but i knew, come hell or high water, it was time. i lived in a VERY small community at the time and i had grown up there so everyone knew me, and, by extension, knew my husband. if you’ve never been to a small town…people TALK. A. LOT. and i knew that if people found out what i was doing and started talking…there would be no way in hell i would ever get out.

so. what do you do?

you get as sneaky and subversive as your abuser, but in a GOOD way. i found people that could help and wouldn’t talk. i found a domestic violence counselor that KNEW how scary it was and how dangerous it was and was just as determined as i was to make a SAFE get away. i learned that when you call about apartment you don’t give out your name until you’re handing in the application. i learned that even in a community awash with “no room for domestic violence” posters and propaganda there are really few people willing to help when the problem is on their own doorstep. you see businesses or apartment owners with the signs in their window and think it’s a safe place to go only to be turned away or hung up on when you dare to utter the words “domestic violence victim”. i don’t know how many apartments i called where they literally hung up on me when i asked if i could quietly move in and not have people know because i was trying to get away from an abusive marriage.

and i get it- i understand…domestic violence is hard on landlords…property destruction, noise, police, disturbing other tenants…i get it. but some of us are really trying to get away…we’re not going back again, we’re not going to have the cops at our house every night to referee the screaming, we just need a little help and a safe harbor.

thanks to the good will of the universe, the hard work of both myself and my DV counselor, and a great landlord i was finally able to find a home and make my get away. my counselor helped me find a brand new (at the time) grant in our state called T.H.O.R. and i was the very first recipient- it was housing assistance specifically for domestic violence victims. sadly, the grant has since gone away- from my understanding there were only a few of us ever able to be part of the program.

i let the new landlord know what was going on and he not only made it okay, he let me know that if there was ever anything else i needed, any other way he could help, just let him know.

and: the most important thing, quite possibly the reason i’m alive today, and THE BEST advice i EVER received, my domestic violence counselor told me: “once he knows you’re leaving, never go anywhere with him alone. ever. he has nothing left to lose at that point.”

i thought she was being overly dramatic. i thought she wasn’t talking about my situation. i thought she was just doing her training. but she’s been trained that way for a reason. she knew to say that FOR A REASON.

sure enough, the day i was packing and leaving, he came home to the uhaul in the driveway and the first thing he said was: can we go somewhere to talk? just the two of us? do you want to guess what i heard in my head? the voice of my counselor: don’t go. don’t go anywhere with him. he has nothing left to lose. DON’T GO. STAND YOUR GROUND. STAND. YOUR. GROUND. and i did. that little voice kept me still. i stood there, in my front yard, in plain sight of the friend that had come to help me, and i didn’t budge an inch. i told him there was nothing left to say. he had told me hundreds of times that he hated me and wanted me gone, so i was leaving. that’s all there is, there is no more. so he left. and i packed, then i left. i wish i could say i never looked back…but there were a few moments of questioning myself. there always are. there’s a few moments of being so completely broke financially, emotionally, everything that i thought maybe…BUT I NEVER WENT BACK. thankfully all i ever did was THINK about it and write about it in my journal, i never actually went back. once i was out I. WAS. OUT. and even after i was out, i kept hearing her words- my counselor, the strong woman who made me strong by example: never be alone with him.

so…what am i trying to say? all in all, i hope i made a few points…YOU CAN GET OUT. there are people who will help. sometimes you really have to dig to find them, and that SUCKS. but you can do it. you can come through the other side and be stronger. you can learn and teach and become ok again. hell…email me, leave an anonymous comment, I WILL FIND A WAY TO HELP YOU. if you know someone that needs help, PLEASE be the one to reach out. and i know it’s hard. i know that many women say they want help only to go back to the same mess over and over again. it can be draining. it can be frustrating. but i believe it can be worth it all if it’s the ONE TIME that she actually breaks free and stays away.

and please, always remember, for yourself, for friends, for stranger, for anyone in this situation: NEVER GO ANYWHERE ALONE WITH THEM ONCE THEY KNOW YOU’RE LEAVING. there are too TOO many news stories about women who went back just one more time…they thought they were just going to have a quiet talk…it’ll be okay…it’s just one last conversation…and you never see them again. i won’t say i was lucky, because it was a damn lot of hard work, but i WAS lucky that i had excellent people that knew what to say and found paths for me to walk…but i still had to walk them.

some day kids…some day we will look back with a sad smile. we will remember what we’ve gone through. we will remember the words we wrote to help others. we will be sad that such a time ever existed. and then we will rejoice that through our words, through our help, others have been spared. other women won’t have a story to tell. AND THAT WILL BE A VERY GOOD DAY.

can you see the "what if" monster under my bed?

today all the local news stations are awash with a horrifying story of a local business woman and her son who were killed in an act of domestic violence. please know that i have no information on this besides what’s in the news- but from what i’ve read in the reports this woman had been on her own for the last 6 months (at least) trying to get away from the situation. she was smart. she had support. she had the right tools. and it still didn’t end well.

a year or more ago there was a similar story about a woman whose body was found in a warehouse days after disappearing when she told friends she was going to talk to her abuser “just one last time…”

just one last time…

i hate domestic violence. i loathe the cowards (men and women) who abuse the person they are supposed to love and support. i abhor the behavior and the way society acts and thinks there’s some reason or excuse or something that the VICTIM should have done different.

i am a domestic violence survivor. i’ve talked about it before. it was bad. he never hit me. he never threw things or broke things. you’d be surprised how many people think that it wasn’t “real” domestic violence.

i’ve told pieces of my story. there’s some (oddly) funny thing that make me laugh now. there’s some things that still terrify me. there’s more than a few things that still make me ask questions. and there’s days like today, reading different news reports, seeing other stories played out in the headlines when i wonder…why me? i’ve never been a big believer in the question “why me” i’m more of the school of “why NOT me? why would i be exempt?” but for this i wonder “why me?” why did _I_ make it out safe? why do i keep defying the statistics? why am i the one that refuses to conform?

and then there’s the even more terrifying questions: what if i’m not safe? what if i’m not exempt? what’s to keep my ex from snapping about owing back child support and coming after me? what makes me so sure that i’m out and away from it and protected? i mean…realistically my divorce has been finalized for…damn…just at 6 years now (some day in july, 2004…not sure the exact date). so i’m a ways out. but so much has changed in that time. he’s currently 5k+ behind in support…people have done freaky things about way less money. he knows people are looking for him, yet no one can find him. what’s to keep something from happening and no one STILL being able to find him?

is domestic violence ever over?

i still find myself doing things only because i still think that’s what i’m “supposed” to do. i put my purse in the grocery cart instead of keeping it on my shoulder because it “looks like a white trash whore” when i keep it on my shoulder. i’m still leery about leaving the house without make up. i still tense up when i hear trucks pull up outside my house at night even though i haven’t had to worry about what kind of mood he would be in when he got home from work in over 6 years. there are still memories attached to everything- i can’t help but think about the fight over green beans when i make tater tot casserole. i always hesitate when i invite people to events because i remember being accused of attempting to kidnap him when i invited him to thanksgiving at a friends house. i remember…god…i remember too much for being away from it 3 times longer than i was in it.

it’s obviously still not over for me. what if it’s not over for him? what if he comes back? the woman in the news today was a damn strong woman. she fought for women’s rights and children’s rights. and it still happened to her. i like to think of myself as a strong woman. a fighter…

years ago when i moved out i had been talking to a domestic violence counselor to try to get things in order and figure out all the how’s and when’s. to this day, there is one thing she said that STILL plays over and over in my mind: once he knows you’re leaving, NEVER, EVER, under any circumstances go anywhere alone with him. at that point he has nothing left to lose.

sure enough, the minute he found out i was leaving he wanted to go somewhere and talk. just inside, away from the people (a friend came to help me move). just for a minute, one last talk…

over and over in the back of my head i kept hearing the voice: never, ever go anywhere with him alone. maybe i was going to be one of the statistics. maybe there was a different ending that day. but i listened to that voice. how many women have never heard that voice? how many women did have a friend there? how many women thought “just one last time…it’ll be ok…”.

maybe you can hear the voice. maybe you can have the support. maybe sometimes there’s just nothing left that you can do. maybe some people are just hell bent on destruction no matter what safe guards are in place.

i’ve spent today sad and scared and angry and confused. sad for the loss of a beautiful woman i never knew, scared that it could be me, angry that these things keep happening, confused how people can still blame the victims. there was no reason at all for all this loss. there is no excuse. there is no explanation. there is tragedy. there is sadness. there is monumental loss. there is a gaping hole left even between people who never met.

i’m sad that so many people are hurting because of one act of cowardice. i’m angry that this many years later i’m still scared. i’m confused why people want to blame rather than support or fix.

most of all i’m scared.

one small step

i took one small step today. no literally...small steps. i'm in 4" heels here people. they're ALL small steps!

so. i took one LARGE step today. the safety event today at work was about domestic violence and how it affects the work place.

and i went.

i wasn't sure i wanted to go. it's like (i would think) willingly going to watch an IED be detonated after having one blow up your bradley. sure, part of it might be healing in a way, but there's huge potential that it will just freak you the fuck out.

if you haven't seen my tattoo before, there SHOULD be a picture of it. notice the purple flower? that one is for _my_ battle with domestic violence. if you didn't know, all the colors are for different things that have impacted my family/me. they're things we've had to grow through...thus the growing up the calf...the gladiolas are strength of character...how much can you pack into one tattoo? you'd be surprised.

but today i went to the domestic violence presentation. turned out to be completely lame. a 20 minute video about how it affects the workplace and things we can do. and by completely lame i mean really good information, but it wasn't a personal speaker or a live re-enactment or something that would have really had explosive potential. so lame is good in this case.

but you know...i took that risk. i went, not knowing what it would be. i faced it. and came out the other side. so there is that.

seven years people. that's how long i've been away. and although i'm 98% healed it's surprising what the at final 2% can hold and when it can pop up again.

but the good news is i'm 98% better. and stronger. and braver. and less willing to take shit off someone. and more willing to stand up for myself. and 100% sure that i don't have to take it, ever again. and 100% sure that i WON'T take it ever again.

slightly ironic point: i'm wearing 4" heels today. and i went to a domestic violence presentation. one of the first things i had to do when i was married was get rid of all my heels because he didn't like me being taller than him. FUCK THAT. today...well, today i can tell you EXACTLY what i'd do with this 4" heel if anyone complained about it....and it wouldn't be throwing it away...

i am not afraid

i'm still afraid. that's not entirely true. i'm still terrified. to the point of shaking and feeling sick to my stomach when i think about it. to the point where it derails my day, i become focused and my already high-gear mind goes into super overdrive. i instantly want to hide, to cry. i feel instantly defenseless, weak, stupid, small, insignificant. it's been five years. FIVE YEARS and i still feel this way. after not even two years. it took me about 2 hours to decide to send an email today, and then when a response came in i was instantly sick and almost started crying.

who is this person? who is this weak, scared girl? where is the super woman that isn't afraid of anyone? where's the person that chews out teachers when they insult my kids? where's the woman that calls people on their crap and doesn't take shit from anyone? where is the super mom that can handle anything on any day (as long as there's mascara and chapstick in the utility belt)? where is the woman that doesn't walk anywhere...she struts...hell, POWER STRUTS.

for the people that say domestic violence is only the type that leaves physical bruises...BULLSHIT. there are things worse than bruises. way worse. fuck...i would rather deal with a bruise any day of the week than this.

i suppose an explanation would be helpful about now: child support stopped coming in a few weeks ago for smaller child. this means that ex has either a) moved again, b) lost his job, or c) both. myspace has been great for tracking him in the past...it's how i found out he moved to arizona last year, and found out where he was working and was able to get support started again after the same thing happened last august. well, myspace isn't giving up any information this go round...EXCEPT for the new "whole family" picture he posted with new wife and new kids. i was about 10% offended for my son that he isn't part of "the whole family" but 90% relieved that he isn't part of that "whole family" and is 100% a part of my whole family instead. so, in search of more information, i checked to see if he had a facebook page started, and sure enough he does...and he's listed as living in spokane now. it seriously took me several hours to decide to email him because that means he can find me (yes, i know he could have found me anyway, but i don't like to think of that). and i'm still so terrified of him...i'm terrified of what his response will be. i'm terrified that he'll want to see my son (which would be the most horrible thing ever). i'm terrified that he'll start yelling and screaming at me again reducing me to the sad, ever apologizing, half of a person that i was 5 years ago when i was married. and the sad, defenseless person i was two years ago when i had to face him in court for a child support revision. i'm still terrified of him.

and i'm still terrified of who i was when i was with him. and i'm terrified of becoming that person again with anyone else...which is the main reason why there hasn't been anyone else. i don't get close to people. i try like hell not to care about or get attached to people (guys) because in my twisted mind they're all like him. and in my twisted mind if they're all like him, then i'll become like her again. that sad girl who was afraid to use the phone. the girl who wouldn't leave the house without makeup because he would be mad. the girl who could only wear certain clothes or talk to certain people. the girl who was scared to make dinner because if he didn't like it there would be hell to pay (and a never touched tater tot casserole in the fridge for a month). i don't want to be the girl who won't eat pineapple again. the girl who waited by the phone all night because if i missed any of his calls from work i would be in trouble. i don't want to be the girl that spent $30,000 on things to try to keep him happy and only realized too late that there would never ever be enough things to accomplish that.

five years and i still haven't figured out how NOT to be terrified. i've moved on for the most part. i'm back to who i was before any of that happened. i'm a strong, independent, successful, amazing person...until i have to deal with the past. a huge part of me wants to just say FUCK YOU ASSHOLE, knock his lights out and be over it. maybe that's it. maybe i've never had a chance to show him the strong person i am and let him know he can't bully me any more...mostly because any time i have to be near him i panic (ok...that's not fair...the only time i've seen him was in court which was stressful and panic inducing, not necessarily because of him...). maybe that's it. i know i'm not that person any more. and i can't be that person ever again. and i just have to be me. all the time. he can't hurt me ever again. he can't hurt my family. i can't be scared of him. there's nothing to be scared of. he's just a sad bully. he has to make other people feel weak and small because he knows he's weak and small.

i will not be afraid. i will not be bullied. i am not scared. FUCK YOU ASSHOLE.