I'm trying my hardest. It's been six months since I put Brian in jail. I keep thinking that I should be further than this, I should be stronger. People keep telling me that I'm a strong woman... I hate when they say that. I want to scream at them for paying me such a compliment. I'm not strong, I'm just alive. I was 25 when I met him. Now at 29, I've lost everything that was so dear to me.
I am a mother of five beautiful children, and I only see two of them everyday. I haven't seen Emma and Aiden for almost seven months, and it's been almost as long since I've seen Jack. My heart breaks for those children. Not only did they lose their mother because I was too afraid to walk away from the abuse, they also witnessed it on more occasions that I care to admit. I wasn't strong then because I didn't protect them.
I thought that I could hold our family together. I thought that maybe if I could change, that he would love me again... that he would love us, and get the help that he needed to become the man that I fell in love with. I wasn't strong then, and I'm sure as hell not any stronger now. I tried so hard these past six months, to let the anger go and not hold hate in my heart. I have failed miserably at that. It's so unfair that a man (or a person in general) can hurt a woman and children, and then go about living life carefree. I think about Jude, and how easily his life could have been ended when I was strangled. I think about Jack, having to see his mother brought to the floor in front of him, by the very hands that claimed to love him so much. Emma and Aiden still ask me if "Daddy Brian" is making mommy cry. I simply reply with "no, mommy is safe now"... but am I?
I never wanted to be a victim. I fought that title tooth and nail for a long time. I made excuses for his behavior because I didn't want people to know what he was doing to me.
In March 2009, he broke his hand on my body and as I drove him to the ER, I was conjuring up a string of lies in my head to tell the doctor. "He fell down the stairs carrying a laundry basket". That sounded like it could pass as a true story. In November, I had had enough. I was no longer going to be a punching bag... physically or emotionally.
Life now, is not a life at all. I look back and realize everything that I had taken for granted. I think about my kids and how much time I wasted, because I was so depressed. I think about the times that my then, 4 year old Emma, consoled her mother as I lay crumpled up on the floor in tears because I had found out about another woman. My sweet little Aiden tried to protect me at the tender age of 3. And then baby Jack was barely ever held by the father that told me to abort him when I was only a few months pregnant... because he was having an affair with both his ex-wife, and another woman named Kristin. I look at sweet Jude, and thank God that his life was spared, and that he will never have to know the pain that Emma, Aiden, and Jack will carry with them for the rest of their lives.
So what does life after abuse look like? I can't speak for others, I only know what I struggle with. For me, as time goes on, I miss him less (I finally now, don't miss him at all), but his words are still ringing loudly in my head. If I should feel accomplished about anything, it would be that I did finally end the abuse, and Jude and I are safe, but honestly, I am still very fearful. I have nightmares almost every night, where I'm being strangled. I have gotten used to them, but at times, it can get so intense that I wake up, gasping for air, and tears streaming down my face. I find it difficult to look in the mirror and smile at what I see. At times, I barely recognize the face that stares back at me. I miss my children so much that I can literally feel my heart break and my breath taken away. I struggle daily with depression and feelings of worthlessness because I was told for so long that I was in fact, worthless. I don't trust anyone but I'm working on that.
That's all just the beginning of what my life after abuse is like. Sometimes, I think that he was right, that I really AM crazy. I feel more like a burden to people than anything else. It's hard to be a good friend because more and more, I find that I'm turning inward, instead of reaching out to people and being able to talk to them. I feel that everyone has problems, and mine should be my own. I'm lucky to have a few good friends that I can somewhat let on to about how low I feel... but it's hard to muster up the courage to do so. I feel so ashamed that I live like this. I could have stopped it sooner, but I was afraid. I have found love again, with a wonderful man, but sometimes I think I'm pushing him away because I've been trained to think that I'm a waste of time, space, and energy. It's hard for me to understand why anyone would love me.
I promise that these blogs will become more positive over time... but tonight, I'm feeling down. I want to be happy, and maybe someday I will be. I have lost more than I will ever gain, but I am thankful for the few things that I still have. This is a place where I can vent, and not feel like a burden or like I'm being judged. I want to make it a point to list what I'm thankful for at the end of these blogs. Hopefully over time, the list will grow... but for now it's a rather small list...
1. My children
2. Travis
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