In my shoes

        Blinking my eyes and rolling over to turn off the alarm, I realize another day has dawned.  I lay there listening to the sounds of the world outside the window and start going through the my to-do list; workout, pack lunches, make sure homework and permission slips are signed, find shoes, etc.  Moments later there are hugs, kisses, and goodbyes exchanged and the kids are off to school. 

       

It is now time to wake him up. Although I am enjoying the peaceful moment, I can’t let him sleep too long or it will not be a good day.  On goes the TV.  On goes the computer.  That ought to help ease him awake.  I guess it is working, so far so good.  I am not allowed to brief him on the events of the day; he has not had his breakfast and coffee yet.  He needs that time to wake up and enjoy the peace and quiet, he is however the only one with a job.   Now he is off to work, and I, well I am off to do whatever it is a freeloader does in her day.

Looking at the time, I cannot believe how fast today went.  There were so many things I did not get done.  I am so slow.  Hopefully the rain will hold off tomorrow and I can cut the grass first thing in the morning.  There is no time and now I will have to wait till Saturday to trim the hedges; maybe I can find time after the soccer game.  That means cleaning out the garage and making a trip to the Goodwill drop-off will have to wait another week.  I hope I won’t have to cancel my coffee date with my friend.  It is so good to be reminded of who I am, only if for an hour it would be worth it.  I haven’t seen her in a while. 

I’m so glad the kids and I are home and practice is done.  I’m so lazy.  This house is a wreck and it is time to start dinner and get everyone busy with their homework.   I will have to get up earlier tomorrow.  Oh, well I deserve it.  I should not have taken so long at the grocery store.  I feel bad for spending his money.  He will be so upset that I spent my allowance.  I will have to make things stretch this month.  I will have to cut back on my driving.  Gas is so expensive.  I hope he is in a good mood when he comes home.  I want to sleep tonight. 

Homework is done.  Food is put away.  Dishes are done.  Goodnights have been said.  I did not do anything today.  I should do some ironing.  It is starting to pile up and I am getting tired of walking around the ironing board.  I know he will need his work pants tomorrow anyway. 

I hear the truck pull in the driveway.  I get his plate ready to warm up his dinner.  I have to let him unwind before I can brief him on the events of the day.  He decides to watch a little TV and check his email while eating his dinner in the bedroom.  I’ll just wait and do it in the morning.  He must have had a rough day.  Besides I probably look terrible.  After he mentioned that beautiful woman that came in the store today, I realize that I should have dressed up today.  It is my fault.  I really should dress better. 

Finished ironing his pants, finished putting the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, check all the doors, check on the kids.  I’m so glad it is time for bed.  Maybe I can do some reading till I fall asleep.  He will be on the computer for a couple more hours.

Huh?  What time is it?  I’m confused.  Why is he yelling at me?  Why can’t I breathe?  Oh!  That!  I’m getting tired of resisting.  I have no more strength.  I cannot fight anymore.  He is right, I should submit to him.  I deserve it.   I’m lazy, slow, I look and act like an old woman, I’m stupid, worthless, just a free loader.  He wants my car keys so he can sell my car.  That is to be my punishment.  Like he said, he is the one paying for it.  I’m so ashamed.   He does a lot for this family and he is right; I could never find anyone else to love me.  No one would even want me.  I hope he does not wake up the kids.  Besides while laughing at me, he threw some money on the nightstand.  Now I won’t have to work so hard to make things stretch.   I can’t look at him.  He is a monster.   I will feel better in the morning……..

To whom it may concern,

Some of you may be shocked to know this is my story.  Well, an extremely condensed, G-rated version of my story.  It is hard to fit 21 years of violence and abuse in a few paragraphs.  I am part of the statistics.  I had remained silent, mostly because I was both emotionally shut down and in denial of the habitual abuse.  It was too painful to utter the words to anyone.  Where would I start?  And once I acknowledged it out loud, I could not take it back.  I was not able to leave.  It is never that simple.  He made sure of that.   

I was also so ashamed.  I felt it was my fault.  I was not good enough.  I should strive to be a better person.   Sick huh?  Well that is how a battered woman feels; so helpless, so worthless, and so powerless.  Survival mode is all she knows and all she has to hang on to, it is her friend.

         

It is really mocking how such horrid things can be going on in someone’s life and no one notice.  It amazes me how “easy” it was for me to hide it.  My hiding place was church.  Kind of ironic isn’t it?  Who is he (my abuser) to stop me from doing the Lord’s work?  I guess he had some of God in him, although what those at church saw were nothing but a front.  He made sure of that too.  Who would believe me if I did tell? 

So why tell now?  Because it is plaguing me.  I feel if I don’t, I will be destroyed from the inside out.  You see everything that I did not allow myself to feel is starting to surface.  I get it now.  That is why they call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder rather than Acute Stress.  It happens after the traumatic events, when survival mode can be put to rest and is no longer needed.  It’s kind of cruel if you ask me.  Surviving is all I knew.  It was my normal.  And because of this, I do not have a reset button.  I have no point of reference to go back to.  Nope, it is all uncharted waters from here on out.  Not to mention the weight of my kids depending on me to get it right. 

I am not feeling sorry for myself, nor do I want your pity.  It occurred to me the other day, that when it comes to sacrifices we should not keep a record of the losses, but a count of what is gained.  For that is the goal.  By telling my story I hope to gain healing and peace.  For it is no longer inside of me threatening to destroy me.   

I realize this is dark and for that reason I hesitate to even post or blog about it, but I also realize that no matter how ashamed or scared I feel, it is indeed my reality, my truth, and my story and I possess the courage to tell it.