"Your deeds speak so much louder than another's words."
I hope this holds true even when the words are spoken by a charming and convincing sociopath who showers you with gifts and lets you do things your other parent always says "NO WAY" to.....
Showing posts with label domestic violence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label domestic violence. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
My Fortune....
Went to my favorite Chinese restaurant with my most cherished companion the other night, this was my fortune...
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Now Is Greater Than The Whole Of The Past???
This is really hard for me to put out, for just anyone to possibly see.... but I will do it anyway in hopes that someone stumbles upon it and relates....
I was looking through my old photo discs. Dozens and dozens of client shoots trying to pick out my favorites for an ad or website or something…. And of course there were old family photos mixed in on the discs. And of course after about an hour of seeing shots of my babies when they were babies and we were a real family, I started thinking. And of course, I ended up in tears despite desperately wanting NOT to cry like a twelve year old.... 
About a year into my 'escape,' a friend was flipping through old photo albums. As he came to the older ones, he flipped the pages slower, he studied each one. He was quiet for a bit, but was curious, you could tell. Curious about the man he had heard such awful things about. Obviously deep in thought, he remained silent as he turned each page until coming to the end. In a very matter of fact manner says “wow, you're good, you even made AD look like a good dad.” 
So today, looking through the hundreds of photos, I thought back to that comment. Part of me wants to say “yeah, I have an eye for touching moments; so good that I made him look better than he was.” 
But then there is the part of me that thinks maybe he was okay – to the boys. When he was sober, not hung-over, and present- he was a decent father. Maybe even a -gasp- good one?
So, which one is it? Are my compositions that good, or was he a loving father? Am I just bitter and not wanting to give him his due credit? If I say he was a good father then does that mean I made a mistake by leaving him? Of course that then leads me to wonder “could I have made it work?”
We had it all, we really did. He had a great job, money was never a worry (not until the last year anyway, when his gambling, drinking and drug habits picked up.) He had a nice home that I kept immaculate – garage and basement excluded. But most of all, he had two beautiful and healthy boys and a wife that could not have been any more committed or loyal. He came home (granted not until 10pm, sometimes 6am the next morning, or….ok sometimes not at all but he always was sure to point out that he did indeed come home) to a clean house, happy healthy children, a supportive wife, and every piece of his life in order. He didn’t have to lift a finger and it was obvious he didn’t want to…. I made sure all the bills were paid, the cars were maintained, the maintenance on the house was covered, his traffic violations were addressed, everyone had clean clothes to wear, the boys were nurtured and cared for, school applications were completed, doctor appointments weren’t missed and on and on…… everything was held together for him. All he had to do was go to work and show up to play with his kids. However I did request he stay clean, or at the very least, not to drink and drive..... Was his life at home really so bad that he had to consume mass amounts of alcohol and drugs just to spice things up, just to tolerate?
I can’t help but wonder “where did I fail him? What did I do wrong? Why wasn’t it enough? Why did he have to find solace in her (ok hers- plural) what did she (they) have that I didn’t?” I remember right after I found out about his ‘other’ life and he failed his first drug test we had an argument about trust. I still hadn’t decided if I was ‘in’ or not, if I could ever trust him again, or if I even wanted to…. He was trying to win me back so to speak, and he looked at me and blurted out “I was just thinking the other day driving to work, how boring my life is.” Almost immediately he regretted letting those words out of his mouth, the look on his face, startled and confused, almost surprised he had just spoken them.......Any explanation he tried to muster after that fell on deaf ears. 
That, that one sentence- hurt me more than any physical harm he could or would eventually inflict upon me through the coming years. And I would have to say that overall, it was his words that were most painful and left me with the deepest, most significant scars. His statement was an honest one. He exposed a vulnerable side of himself, opened up, and told me how he truly felt …. And it hurt. It hurt like hell. Of course there were plenty of devastating words spoken after that, but that one statement sticks with me. It wasn’t the most hurtful thing he ever said to me by any means, but I believe it was one of the most pure and honest feelings he ever expressed….. at least to me. 
After the secret of the abuse was out, and the questions of “why don’t you just leave?’ started, I remember confidently explaining that I would outlast him. Yes, he could inflict physical harm, but I would heal. The bruises would fade and the cuts would scab over. But I - I - was going to show him that no matter what, I was going to be there. No matter what he dished out, I would stand by him; I was the rock he could lean on. I would outlast this fucking addiction and the sleazy coke whores. I was his safe haven - I was his family- I was his wife and I always would be. No one else – just me. I would be his one sure thing. The one person he could be himself with –good-bad- and super fucking ugly…. We would get through anything and we would be stronger for it. I knew the man he could be and I wanted to be the one with him when he grew into his potential. I saw the goodness he buried deep inside of him. I saw through his façade, I recognized his weaknesses, I felt his insecurities and I loved him anyway. I knew he was worthy of being loved the way I loved him, and I believed with everything inside of me that someday he would realize it too….
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not seeing him in the photos that upset me. It was seeing what he represented. It was being privy to the amount of effort, commitment and loyalty invested that would never be sufficient. It was remembering that we were a family, the four of us. We had it all, we were together and that was what should have mattered- that’s what was important to me, but not important enough to him I guess. Being a family, that is what I miss, that is the loss I mourn- not AD the person. I miss having someone to gush over the perfect little devils - I mean creations – we made together. I don’t miss AD or the drama he reveled in, especially the drama; I feel the absence of being in a traditional family. I miss seeing my boys with the only other person in this world who will ever have any chance at all of feeling a connection as strong as the one I have with them.
I tried so hard to outlast him. I tried so fucking hard to save our family, I really did. I put in the time as well as my whole heart - going to therapy and a priest- to try to improve myself. After all, I believed if I bettered myself, if I made a change for the better – he was bound to follow. That’s what all the relationship self help books said, even Dr. Phil said it. But that back fired on me. The more forgiving I became, the more mistakes he seemed to make. The more understanding I tried to be, the more extreme and irrational behaviors he indulged in. The more supportive I was, the more distance he created between us. The more of my faults I pointed out, the more he blamed me. The more I gave, the more he took - because he could. Had I finally proven to him that I wasn’t going anywhere?
I will never forget the last time he hit me. Usually I fought back. Usually I smarted off, threatened to leave. But not that time. “This time,” I thought as he grabbed me and threw me down, “this time I am going to show him nothing but love.” And that is exactly what I did. I tried to see him as he was - a scared, desperate, and tortured soul. I quietly begged him to stop as he pressed his knees into my chest. I cried as he slammed my head against the bathroom floor. I said as loudly as I could, “It’s okay Adam, it’s okay, I love you,” coming out instead in a raspy whisper, being all I could muster as I gasped for breath underneath the weight of his body on my stomach and the pressure of his knees on my chest. I tried to cover my face using my hands or arms or elbows… but he squeezed my wrists and pushed them towards the floor. “Please stop, “ I cried softly. The more I tried to raise my arms or turn my head in an attempt to escape inevitable blows, the more he used his elbows to contain me. That’s how I ended up with the fat lip, a mouth full of blood, bruised and swollen cheeks, and the infamous black eye- all from his fucking elbows.
That night on the bathroom floor was different. I didn’t resist and displayed nothing but love and reassurance. That time was different and I knew it. I knew after it was over and he descended to the kitchen to fetch me a couple of ice packs, that unless he got help – serious help- it was over, it had to be. I knew that night I had reached my limit – he had gone too far, taken it to a whole new level – he had left marks on my face. There’s no going back after you reach that point. You can predict someone’s future behavior by examining their past actions. He had reached the point of no return? More importantly how would the pattern of escalation proceed now? Would he put me in the hospital, kill me, or even worse – turn on the boys? I knew him; I knew that once he crossed a line, he would only take it farther the next time, there was no going back- he would and could not retreat, that would mean failure –or worse still- that he was wrong.
About a year into my 'escape,' a friend was flipping through old photo albums. As he came to the older ones, he flipped the pages slower, he studied each one. He was quiet for a bit, but was curious, you could tell. Curious about the man he had heard such awful things about. Obviously deep in thought, he remained silent as he turned each page until coming to the end. In a very matter of fact manner says “wow, you're good, you even made AD look like a good dad.” So today, looking through the hundreds of photos, I thought back to that comment. Part of me wants to say “yeah, I have an eye for touching moments; so good that I made him look better than he was.” But then there is the part of me that thinks maybe he was okay – to the boys. When he was sober, not hung-over, and present- he was a decent father. Maybe even a -gasp- good one? So, which one is it? Are my compositions that good, or was he a loving father? Am I just bitter and not wanting to give him his due credit? If I say he was a good father then does that mean I made a mistake by leaving him? Of course that then leads me to wonder “could I have made it work?”We had it all, we really did. He had a great job, money was never a worry (not until the last year anyway, when his gambling, drinking and drug habits picked up.) He had a nice home that I kept immaculate – garage and basement excluded. But most of all, he had two beautiful and healthy boys and a wife that could not have been any more committed or loyal. He came home (granted not until 10pm, sometimes 6am the next morning, or….ok sometimes not at all but he always was sure to point out that he did indeed come home) to a clean house, happy healthy children, a supportive wife, and every piece of his life in order. He didn’t have to lift a finger and it was obvious he didn’t want to…. I made sure all the bills were paid, the cars were maintained, the maintenance on the house was covered, his traffic violations were addressed, everyone had clean clothes to wear, the boys were nurtured and cared for, school applications were completed, doctor appointments weren’t missed and on and on…… everything was held together for him. All he had to do was go to work and show up to play with his kids. However I did request he stay clean, or at the very least, not to drink and drive..... Was his life at home really so bad that he had to consume mass amounts of alcohol and drugs just to spice things up, just to tolerate?I can’t help but wonder “where did I fail him? What did I do wrong? Why wasn’t it enough? Why did he have to find solace in her (ok hers- plural) what did she (they) have that I didn’t?” I remember right after I found out about his ‘other’ life and he failed his first drug test we had an argument about trust. I still hadn’t decided if I was ‘in’ or not, if I could ever trust him again, or if I even wanted to…. He was trying to win me back so to speak, and he looked at me and blurted out “I was just thinking the other day driving to work, how boring my life is.” Almost immediately he regretted letting those words out of his mouth, the look on his face, startled and confused, almost surprised he had just spoken them.......Any explanation he tried to muster after that fell on deaf ears. That, that one sentence- hurt me more than any physical harm he could or would eventually inflict upon me through the coming years. And I would have to say that overall, it was his words that were most painful and left me with the deepest, most significant scars. His statement was an honest one. He exposed a vulnerable side of himself, opened up, and told me how he truly felt …. And it hurt. It hurt like hell. Of course there were plenty of devastating words spoken after that, but that one statement sticks with me. It wasn’t the most hurtful thing he ever said to me by any means, but I believe it was one of the most pure and honest feelings he ever expressed….. at least to me. After the secret of the abuse was out, and the questions of “why don’t you just leave?’ started, I remember confidently explaining that I would outlast him. Yes, he could inflict physical harm, but I would heal. The bruises would fade and the cuts would scab over. But I - I - was going to show him that no matter what, I was going to be there. No matter what he dished out, I would stand by him; I was the rock he could lean on. I would outlast this fucking addiction and the sleazy coke whores. I was his safe haven - I was his family- I was his wife and I always would be. No one else – just me. I would be his one sure thing. The one person he could be himself with –good-bad- and super fucking ugly…. We would get through anything and we would be stronger for it. I knew the man he could be and I wanted to be the one with him when he grew into his potential. I saw the goodness he buried deep inside of him. I saw through his façade, I recognized his weaknesses, I felt his insecurities and I loved him anyway. I knew he was worthy of being loved the way I loved him, and I believed with everything inside of me that someday he would realize it too…. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not seeing him in the photos that upset me. It was seeing what he represented. It was being privy to the amount of effort, commitment and loyalty invested that would never be sufficient. It was remembering that we were a family, the four of us. We had it all, we were together and that was what should have mattered- that’s what was important to me, but not important enough to him I guess. Being a family, that is what I miss, that is the loss I mourn- not AD the person. I miss having someone to gush over the perfect little devils - I mean creations – we made together. I don’t miss AD or the drama he reveled in, especially the drama; I feel the absence of being in a traditional family. I miss seeing my boys with the only other person in this world who will ever have any chance at all of feeling a connection as strong as the one I have with them.I tried so hard to outlast him. I tried so fucking hard to save our family, I really did. I put in the time as well as my whole heart - going to therapy and a priest- to try to improve myself. After all, I believed if I bettered myself, if I made a change for the better – he was bound to follow. That’s what all the relationship self help books said, even Dr. Phil said it. But that back fired on me. The more forgiving I became, the more mistakes he seemed to make. The more understanding I tried to be, the more extreme and irrational behaviors he indulged in. The more supportive I was, the more distance he created between us. The more of my faults I pointed out, the more he blamed me. The more I gave, the more he took - because he could. Had I finally proven to him that I wasn’t going anywhere?
I will never forget the last time he hit me. Usually I fought back. Usually I smarted off, threatened to leave. But not that time. “This time,” I thought as he grabbed me and threw me down, “this time I am going to show him nothing but love.” And that is exactly what I did. I tried to see him as he was - a scared, desperate, and tortured soul. I quietly begged him to stop as he pressed his knees into my chest. I cried as he slammed my head against the bathroom floor. I said as loudly as I could, “It’s okay Adam, it’s okay, I love you,” coming out instead in a raspy whisper, being all I could muster as I gasped for breath underneath the weight of his body on my stomach and the pressure of his knees on my chest. I tried to cover my face using my hands or arms or elbows… but he squeezed my wrists and pushed them towards the floor. “Please stop, “ I cried softly. The more I tried to raise my arms or turn my head in an attempt to escape inevitable blows, the more he used his elbows to contain me. That’s how I ended up with the fat lip, a mouth full of blood, bruised and swollen cheeks, and the infamous black eye- all from his fucking elbows.
That night on the bathroom floor was different. I didn’t resist and displayed nothing but love and reassurance. That time was different and I knew it. I knew after it was over and he descended to the kitchen to fetch me a couple of ice packs, that unless he got help – serious help- it was over, it had to be. I knew that night I had reached my limit – he had gone too far, taken it to a whole new level – he had left marks on my face. There’s no going back after you reach that point. You can predict someone’s future behavior by examining their past actions. He had reached the point of no return? More importantly how would the pattern of escalation proceed now? Would he put me in the hospital, kill me, or even worse – turn on the boys? I knew him; I knew that once he crossed a line, he would only take it farther the next time, there was no going back- he would and could not retreat, that would mean failure –or worse still- that he was wrong.
But I knew that you don’t just stop patterns of abuse, you have to acknowledge it and figure out why you turn to violence/drugs to deal in the first place. There was never any acknowledgement of a problem on his side. And of course Adam, he had figured it all out on his own. After a week, he claimed to know his problem and how to stop it. He had sold himself on the idea that he was in total control; I on the other hand, was not buying it- not anymore anyway.
I wonder if he knew how easy it could have been. If he just would have said ‘yes’ when I calmly asked him to get help. I wonder if he knew the future of our marriage –our family- was balanced so delicately on his answer. I wonder what else I could have done, what it was that he needed from me – from his life - that I had not provided to him. I don’t regret leaving – not in any way. I may question if it was the best decision for the boys – however I don’t regret the decision. I felt as sure about leaving as I had felt about staying all those months as everyone begged me to leave. Just as I don’t regret leaving – I don’t regret staying as long as I did either. Sure, looking back I feel foolish and gullible and naïve and stupid and….. But I don’t regret my decisions.
I do however, wonder what it would have taken and how close – or far away – we actually were to saving our family….. I also wonder if he ever wonders these same things.
I wonder if he knew how easy it could have been. If he just would have said ‘yes’ when I calmly asked him to get help. I wonder if he knew the future of our marriage –our family- was balanced so delicately on his answer. I wonder what else I could have done, what it was that he needed from me – from his life - that I had not provided to him. I don’t regret leaving – not in any way. I may question if it was the best decision for the boys – however I don’t regret the decision. I felt as sure about leaving as I had felt about staying all those months as everyone begged me to leave. Just as I don’t regret leaving – I don’t regret staying as long as I did either. Sure, looking back I feel foolish and gullible and naïve and stupid and….. But I don’t regret my decisions.
I do however, wonder what it would have taken and how close – or far away – we actually were to saving our family….. I also wonder if he ever wonders these same things.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Scars
Last night 10YR and I were talking. He is in therapy and had an appointment yesterday. He asked if he could talk to me about it and here is part of the conversation:
10YO: We wrote out some of my worries and put them in the Worry Doll.
Me: Hmmm, only some?
10YO: Yeah, but I only have four big worries.
Me: Like your brother will play your DS games or I will embarrass you in front of your friends?
10YO: No Mom, those are stupid things. Those things don't matter. My worries are big ones.
Me: Well we can talk about it when you want.
10YO: You already know them, I've told you before. The ones I put in the worry doll today were that Dad will get drunk and hurt me or Luke. And that Dad will get drunk and hurt you.
Me: Really, you still worry about that?
10YO: Next week I am going to put in that I am afraid Dad will hurt Margo (new girlfriend) and that Dad will go back to jail.
The conversation went on, but his four worries were the eye opening and surprising part for me. I would think that after moving 9 hours away from my ex three years ago combined with the passage of time those worries would have subsided. And I am kind of surprised that the last two worries are still a concern for him after all of this time.
I can't figure out if it will always be a fear for him because he saw some of the abuse and lived through the absences caused by his fathers' incarceration or if during visits with his father he still sees the old frightening qualities. Is it the memories causing the concern or his fathers' present actions? Does he see that his father hasn't changed or is he just haunted by the past?
I can't figure it out. And the worst part is that I can't even promise him that I won't let his father hurt him. I can assure him that as long as he is with me, he will not get hurt- but I can not promise him that he and his brother will be safe no matter what. That is the most difficult part of the whole thing, I can not ensure him that his father will never hurt him or his brother. I can not promise him that he will always be safe.
Not being able to promise my children safety has got to be the worst feeling of helplessness I have - or could - ever feel.
10YO: We wrote out some of my worries and put them in the Worry Doll.
Me: Hmmm, only some?
10YO: Yeah, but I only have four big worries.
Me: Like your brother will play your DS games or I will embarrass you in front of your friends?
10YO: No Mom, those are stupid things. Those things don't matter. My worries are big ones.
Me: Well we can talk about it when you want.
10YO: You already know them, I've told you before. The ones I put in the worry doll today were that Dad will get drunk and hurt me or Luke. And that Dad will get drunk and hurt you.
Me: Really, you still worry about that?
10YO: Next week I am going to put in that I am afraid Dad will hurt Margo (new girlfriend) and that Dad will go back to jail.
The conversation went on, but his four worries were the eye opening and surprising part for me. I would think that after moving 9 hours away from my ex three years ago combined with the passage of time those worries would have subsided. And I am kind of surprised that the last two worries are still a concern for him after all of this time.
I can't figure out if it will always be a fear for him because he saw some of the abuse and lived through the absences caused by his fathers' incarceration or if during visits with his father he still sees the old frightening qualities. Is it the memories causing the concern or his fathers' present actions? Does he see that his father hasn't changed or is he just haunted by the past?
I can't figure it out. And the worst part is that I can't even promise him that I won't let his father hurt him. I can assure him that as long as he is with me, he will not get hurt- but I can not promise him that he and his brother will be safe no matter what. That is the most difficult part of the whole thing, I can not ensure him that his father will never hurt him or his brother. I can not promise him that he will always be safe.
Not being able to promise my children safety has got to be the worst feeling of helplessness I have - or could - ever feel.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Taking Care
I went to the doctor today. The first time since the divorce..... First time since 2006. It's strange how I just stopped taking care of myself. I used to have my annual exams and never hesitated to check in with the doctor if my headaches or stomach issues escalated. But the last few years, I have just 'let it go.'
It really blows my mind especially since I am here with the boys by myself. No back-up, no family 15 minutes or even two hours away anymore. Here I am in the middle of rural Massachusetts where not too many people can get to me and I am taking my chances with my health.
I was thinking back to 2005 when I had that ruptured cyst and was in the hospital for 4 days. My mom and my sister were able to come help with the kids even though AD was there, I had back up. I was out of commission, but I knew the boys would be covered.
What would happen if something happened to me here, now? I have friends that could watch the boys temporarily, but no one I would feel comfortable with for any length of time.... Not to mention the worst case scenario, if I let something go long enough - like four years- and it turned into something major, and I wasn't around, what would happen to the boys? Would they go with AD? Ughh I can't stomach that thought. All of the healing that would be undone, the fear and instability they would have to live with. It breaks my heart to even think in that direction.
It's in looking at the boys to really see how far we have come since living in fear with an abusive addict. After the divorce, the boys were so angry and hesitant. 6YO and the night terrors that used to keep me up hours on end trying to console and wake him. 10YO old and the nightmares of trying to hide from his father who was trying to kill him, while I watched without attempting a rescue. Then there was 6YO's defiant behavior and 10YO's constant worrying. They have come so far and have really adjusted well to their 'new life.' To think all of this could be undone by carelessness with my health.
I gotta get my shit together and take care of myself for the boys sake if not my own. I need a kick in the ass, I gotta keep my perspective and stop thinking of taking care of myself as a luxury, otherwise all this was for nothing. We have worked too hard and come too far to let an oversight derail us now!
Monday, March 9, 2009
Reflections
- Photo- Baby and me three months pre-divorce, taken by ADAhhh here we go again. I started going through my old CD's of photos today. I have been really trying to get moving on a photography blog to try to supplement things financially so I figured I would pull out some old photos to post. I discovered two things:
1) I took some really good photos
2) I miss my 'old' life....
I know, I know, I must be crazy to miss it. But the photos make all of it look so good. The photos of the family trip to the pumpkin patch. AD holding up the baby to pet the different farm animals. AD and AX relaxing in the hay during the hay ride. The boys and I sitting on our great pumpkin selections...... The well kept and neatly trimmed hair cuts the boys were sporting because, back then, I had the time (think- SAHM) and money to take them for their haircuts without worrying it would cut into the grocery budget. I look at the photos of the perfectly polished floors, all done by hand (mine of course, no one else would get it quite right!) The neatly vacuumed carpets and the sparkling clean kitchen in the backgrounds.... The smiles on the boys faces, the laughter, the intact family in the burbs.
Here is a picture of 'the baby' two weeks ago, bad hair and all.... it's even worse now!
Is it just me or do the boys look a little sad in photographs these days? The house, is definitely a disaster compared to 'the old days' and of course their hair..... that's a whole crisis in itself!They have the 'shaggy dog' do goin on ..... My how things change!
It all appears so perfect in the photos of 'our old life.' As long as you don't know that the hole in the knee of my jeans was from the time AD drug me across the driveway after pulling me out of the truck and taking my purse/car keys to keep me from leaving. Or the oddly placed painting in the hallway that was actually covering five holes that AD punched in the wall -instead of me (should I have thanked him?) This also was a night I told him I had to leave unless he got help.
I miss the smiles on the faces of the boys when they were still innocent. Before AX had to call 911 because his dad was hurting his mom. Before Luke put his boots on over his PJ's in the middle of a snow storm to go "wook for daddy" two weeks after I had gotten a protection order to insure our safety when he was finally served with the divorce papers.
I miss my family, my friends, my gym, my trainer (motivator,) my church, my CHRP sisters, my dog, my photo clients, my neighbors, my home, the burbs, and Father Dan.
Believe it or not, I still really miss my old life.
I miss the smiles on the faces of the boys when they were still innocent. Before AX had to call 911 because his dad was hurting his mom. Before Luke put his boots on over his PJ's in the middle of a snow storm to go "wook for daddy" two weeks after I had gotten a protection order to insure our safety when he was finally served with the divorce papers.
I miss my family, my friends, my gym, my trainer (motivator,) my church, my CHRP sisters, my dog, my photo clients, my neighbors, my home, the burbs, and Father Dan.
Believe it or not, I still really miss my old life.
Pathetic, I know.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Better Today
It's so funny how the emotions come and go. There is a power struggle raging inside of me. A power struggle between victim and survivor.
The post from the other day encompasses so many fears and insecurities that I have today, however the concerns I listed seem so minor compared to what they were four years ago. Four years ago, I was sitting at home with two young boys wondering when or even if my husband would be coming home, and if he did, would he be looking for a fight?
Sometimes I loose sight of the progress I have made the last five years. The daily myriad of unhealthy emotions that ruled every breathe of my being, everyday. I was so unhealthy, physically and emotionally. My "normal" was so frightening, demeaning, and painful. My body and soul were beaten down, destroyed and I lived with it day in and day out.
I was committed to staying with a man who lied, cheated, and hit me; all in the name of marriage. I had more respect for the sacrament than I did for myself. I allowed him the security of a faithful wife because of the fear I carried with me over my children growing up without a father.
I believed he wanted to change. I believed he could change. I believed if I stood by him, he would have the strength to change. Instead, my commitment to him enabled him to continue his lifestyle and everything that went with it.
With the help of so many precious souls surrounding me during this time, I gradually woke up. I may get down and discouraged now, but look at where I am.... look at where we are. We are in a safe home. We have food, shelter,and most importantly, each other. I don't sit in bed on pins and needles listening for the growl of his car pulling down the court. I don't hide cash or car keys anymore, I leave them in my truck! I don't keep my "eyes open" for drugs when cleaning nooks and crannies. I don't pretend I am asleep when I hear the front door open. I don't keep a bag packed with clothes for the boys and I in the back of the truck. I don't worry where my guy is or who he's with when I call him and his phone rings and rings.... I don't wonder if his hands have touched anyone else today, or if he's sincere with his words. I don't hesitate to leave him with Alex while I run out for groceries, nor do I dread running out for groceries because of the likely interrogation to follow.
I may not be where I hoped I would be at this point in my life, but you know what? Five years ago, I couldn't even imagine a situation like what I am in today... Five years ago, I couldn't even imagine being as lucky as I am today, to have the people I have had touch my spirit along the way. This kind of life was that of others, it was a kind of life that I knew nothing about in my reality. It was the kind of life that other people had, the kind of security I did not know with AD.
I have much work to do. I am not where I could be, but I am where I need to be right now.
I am truly blessed.
And..... W is the one that reminded me of all this. She is the one that brought these thoughts back into conscienceness. Her slight nudge to get me to lighten up on myself and step back to really see.... I love W.
The post from the other day encompasses so many fears and insecurities that I have today, however the concerns I listed seem so minor compared to what they were four years ago. Four years ago, I was sitting at home with two young boys wondering when or even if my husband would be coming home, and if he did, would he be looking for a fight?
Sometimes I loose sight of the progress I have made the last five years. The daily myriad of unhealthy emotions that ruled every breathe of my being, everyday. I was so unhealthy, physically and emotionally. My "normal" was so frightening, demeaning, and painful. My body and soul were beaten down, destroyed and I lived with it day in and day out.
I was committed to staying with a man who lied, cheated, and hit me; all in the name of marriage. I had more respect for the sacrament than I did for myself. I allowed him the security of a faithful wife because of the fear I carried with me over my children growing up without a father.
I believed he wanted to change. I believed he could change. I believed if I stood by him, he would have the strength to change. Instead, my commitment to him enabled him to continue his lifestyle and everything that went with it.
With the help of so many precious souls surrounding me during this time, I gradually woke up. I may get down and discouraged now, but look at where I am.... look at where we are. We are in a safe home. We have food, shelter,and most importantly, each other. I don't sit in bed on pins and needles listening for the growl of his car pulling down the court. I don't hide cash or car keys anymore, I leave them in my truck! I don't keep my "eyes open" for drugs when cleaning nooks and crannies. I don't pretend I am asleep when I hear the front door open. I don't keep a bag packed with clothes for the boys and I in the back of the truck. I don't worry where my guy is or who he's with when I call him and his phone rings and rings.... I don't wonder if his hands have touched anyone else today, or if he's sincere with his words. I don't hesitate to leave him with Alex while I run out for groceries, nor do I dread running out for groceries because of the likely interrogation to follow.
I may not be where I hoped I would be at this point in my life, but you know what? Five years ago, I couldn't even imagine a situation like what I am in today... Five years ago, I couldn't even imagine being as lucky as I am today, to have the people I have had touch my spirit along the way. This kind of life was that of others, it was a kind of life that I knew nothing about in my reality. It was the kind of life that other people had, the kind of security I did not know with AD.
I have much work to do. I am not where I could be, but I am where I need to be right now.
I am truly blessed.
And..... W is the one that reminded me of all this. She is the one that brought these thoughts back into conscienceness. Her slight nudge to get me to lighten up on myself and step back to really see.... I love W.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Procrastination and Change
Hmmmmm… I was in the shower wondering why I am procrastinating with EVERYTHING. Working out, pictures, writing, working on the house…… What was it that I had before that allowed me to take such pride in my physical health and wellbeing? Was I more confident?- maybe. I stopped being really dedicated after I found out about NK in 03. Maybe it was that blow to my ego that made me feel I wasn’t worth it. Maybe D was right that day that he said “everything changed when you found out AD cheated on you. You stopped caring about you. Almost as if to say “why bother, it’s not enough anyway.”
Am I lazy now? Have I really turned into one of those people I used to hate? The one that complains about things, but can’t seem to do anything to change it? I always thought that they were full of excuses, that they were just lazy or lacked motivation. I am that person now, looking for every excuse in the book everything - from time to money.
Am I so afraid to fail that I don’t even try? Am I so afraid that if I try and fail then everything AD said will be true, that I can’t make it on my own? Am I afraid of what AD told me becoming a reality, or do I already believe it? By not doing anything, aren’t I simply living up to his expectations? Am I allowing him to shape my thinking even now? Am I still stuck in the oppressive mind frame?
So what does that all mean? I just sit here and stop trying to move forward just to sit and wait for someone or something to move forward with me, for me? Is that what I am doing? Where is my passion, my spark? When did I become one of those people content on just getting by?
Is what I’m telling AX hypocritical? When I tell him to just go out and try, not to be afraid of failing, all the clichés that I spew at him and I can’t even lead by example? What the heck am I teaching him, that it’s ok to be paralyzed by what others say or think? That it’s ok to not try, to be limited by your fears? I truly believe and always have that you teach best what you most need to learn…….
Could I be overwhelmed? Is it a legitimate thing, to just be so overwhelmed that your become hopeless? Am I hopeless? Am I just hoping that somehow things will just happen? That photo clients will just start rolling in, that my body will simply morph back into being hard? Am I waiting for the confidence to just magically re-appear?
I can do all the things I have been putting off…..
I can get into incredible shape and be healthy
I can take great photos
I can care for my boys
I can make friends
I can make this town our home
I can write
I can give my heart completely
I can risk it all
And- I can heal.
……I have done all of these things in the past, I am capable of doing them all again. I deserve to do them all, to live them all again.
What am I doing? What am I waiting for? What am I so scared of?
I know I am deserving, I know I am, but maybe it is just more if I stand up, brush myself off and then move on, then what? Am I afraid of not being held down, of not being the victim anymore? Is that it? Is it that I have been a victim for so long, and had that mentality, that if I move past it, beyond it, then what do I become? What will my role be then? I know I am a “good” victim. I have mastered this role, what if I am not as good at the next one? Is that my problem? Is this my hang up? Have I become content with this role from my past?
Oh my god, what is the big deal? I can do this, I can do all these things, I have done and dealt with so much worse. Am I just going to allow myself to stay stuck? I have to do for myself, I have to do for the boys. I have to rise above my past and become better for it, not paralyzed in it.
Am I lazy now? Have I really turned into one of those people I used to hate? The one that complains about things, but can’t seem to do anything to change it? I always thought that they were full of excuses, that they were just lazy or lacked motivation. I am that person now, looking for every excuse in the book everything - from time to money.
Am I so afraid to fail that I don’t even try? Am I so afraid that if I try and fail then everything AD said will be true, that I can’t make it on my own? Am I afraid of what AD told me becoming a reality, or do I already believe it? By not doing anything, aren’t I simply living up to his expectations? Am I allowing him to shape my thinking even now? Am I still stuck in the oppressive mind frame?
So what does that all mean? I just sit here and stop trying to move forward just to sit and wait for someone or something to move forward with me, for me? Is that what I am doing? Where is my passion, my spark? When did I become one of those people content on just getting by?
Is what I’m telling AX hypocritical? When I tell him to just go out and try, not to be afraid of failing, all the clichés that I spew at him and I can’t even lead by example? What the heck am I teaching him, that it’s ok to be paralyzed by what others say or think? That it’s ok to not try, to be limited by your fears? I truly believe and always have that you teach best what you most need to learn…….
Could I be overwhelmed? Is it a legitimate thing, to just be so overwhelmed that your become hopeless? Am I hopeless? Am I just hoping that somehow things will just happen? That photo clients will just start rolling in, that my body will simply morph back into being hard? Am I waiting for the confidence to just magically re-appear?
I can do all the things I have been putting off…..
I can get into incredible shape and be healthy
I can take great photos
I can care for my boys
I can make friends
I can make this town our home
I can write
I can give my heart completely
I can risk it all
And- I can heal.
……I have done all of these things in the past, I am capable of doing them all again. I deserve to do them all, to live them all again.
What am I doing? What am I waiting for? What am I so scared of?
I know I am deserving, I know I am, but maybe it is just more if I stand up, brush myself off and then move on, then what? Am I afraid of not being held down, of not being the victim anymore? Is that it? Is it that I have been a victim for so long, and had that mentality, that if I move past it, beyond it, then what do I become? What will my role be then? I know I am a “good” victim. I have mastered this role, what if I am not as good at the next one? Is that my problem? Is this my hang up? Have I become content with this role from my past?
Oh my god, what is the big deal? I can do this, I can do all these things, I have done and dealt with so much worse. Am I just going to allow myself to stay stuck? I have to do for myself, I have to do for the boys. I have to rise above my past and become better for it, not paralyzed in it.
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