Can I just say that there needs to be a law against HOW many Mondays can be in a single week?
I mean, seriously.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
Vulnerability
After the Flight for Freedom, I began to notice a change. They say it takes time to undo the effects of long-term abuse, and they aren't kidding. You question everything you do, every decision you make, every emotion. You question your worth, and ultimately, your right to just BE. For me, it made me very snippy and short, and I compensated for the lack of confidence with being overly lenient with my children. To me, they had suffered and immeasurable loss and hardship. Their mother left their father, because he had abused her. The children knew why I had left through listening to my end of phone conversations with my support network in LA. Though far away, they are still family, and were crucial in my leaving their dad.
There's a learning curve to independence. I thought, initially that I couldn't do it, period. Then I thought I could do it with help. Lots of help. Then I questioned whether THAT was right. Eventually I realized I hadn't burned the children down or totally ruined the house. I am far from perfect, but I could be doing much, MUCH worse. Learning to be more forgiving with myself is something I struggle with daily. I try not to let the insecurity creep in, but from time to time, it happens, especially when it's something that matters to me.
I care very much about how I do in my new job. I love the work, it's challenging and interesting, which are two things I NEED, I have come to realize. I enjoy working with people, and my job allows this. It's also intellectually stimulating, so I get to feel smart regularly. Yay! :) I care about my children. While they drive me up one wall and down another, they are important to me. When I think about screwing up with them, it brings the cold sweats, the insecurities pop out, and I react instead of think. I think it is with them that I have THE MOST insecurity. I can get another job, but I cannot get another chance to raise my children.
In thinking about that, it makes me mindful that I have a temper, and lose it more often than I would like to admit to, even on here. I yelled at my daughter on Friday, and when I had a chance to get away from the situation, I felt bad, guilty that I had lost my temper and felt like it was OKAY to have done so. I came to a realization then. It wasn't okay to lose my temper, and it never IS okay to lose my temper. Getting mad is okay, natural, and human, but when you lose control of that, when you're screaming at your kid about another lost ID, and then things come out that you didn't intend on yelling at them about, you realize that not only have you lost your temper, you have gone pretty close to, if not in the middle of abuse.
Now, I have been reassured that it will be okay.. The child will NOT die, or suffer, but I can't help but think "Gosh, didn't I leave their father for similar reasons?" I certainly wouldn't like to be spoken to that way, so what gives ME the right to speak to HER, to THEM, to ANYONE that way? AHA! Growth. First you question the behavior, then you can change it. Heh There is vulnerability in being wrong. It isn't the end of the world to be wrong, to make mistakes, but damned if it doesn't make you question your worth as a person.
I got upset with my Good Friend this weekend over a misunderstanding. I thought he had blown me off, when he actually called me the day before I had my minor meltdown. Ah, nothing is quite so refreshing as feeling like an ass. But, that brings me back to vulnerability. I have feelings for this friend of mine, and in having them, I have insecurity and vulnerability. I care for him, muchly. I would love to be his sweetie, and the miles and miles of distance amplifies the neurosis. :) Being an awesome guy (very), he put up with it, but I felt bad for being an ass. I guess if I didn't act like one from time to time, I'd have to be some kind of saint.
What kind of fun would THAT be?
There's a learning curve to independence. I thought, initially that I couldn't do it, period. Then I thought I could do it with help. Lots of help. Then I questioned whether THAT was right. Eventually I realized I hadn't burned the children down or totally ruined the house. I am far from perfect, but I could be doing much, MUCH worse. Learning to be more forgiving with myself is something I struggle with daily. I try not to let the insecurity creep in, but from time to time, it happens, especially when it's something that matters to me.
I care very much about how I do in my new job. I love the work, it's challenging and interesting, which are two things I NEED, I have come to realize. I enjoy working with people, and my job allows this. It's also intellectually stimulating, so I get to feel smart regularly. Yay! :) I care about my children. While they drive me up one wall and down another, they are important to me. When I think about screwing up with them, it brings the cold sweats, the insecurities pop out, and I react instead of think. I think it is with them that I have THE MOST insecurity. I can get another job, but I cannot get another chance to raise my children.
In thinking about that, it makes me mindful that I have a temper, and lose it more often than I would like to admit to, even on here. I yelled at my daughter on Friday, and when I had a chance to get away from the situation, I felt bad, guilty that I had lost my temper and felt like it was OKAY to have done so. I came to a realization then. It wasn't okay to lose my temper, and it never IS okay to lose my temper. Getting mad is okay, natural, and human, but when you lose control of that, when you're screaming at your kid about another lost ID, and then things come out that you didn't intend on yelling at them about, you realize that not only have you lost your temper, you have gone pretty close to, if not in the middle of abuse.
Now, I have been reassured that it will be okay.. The child will NOT die, or suffer, but I can't help but think "Gosh, didn't I leave their father for similar reasons?" I certainly wouldn't like to be spoken to that way, so what gives ME the right to speak to HER, to THEM, to ANYONE that way? AHA! Growth. First you question the behavior, then you can change it. Heh There is vulnerability in being wrong. It isn't the end of the world to be wrong, to make mistakes, but damned if it doesn't make you question your worth as a person.
I got upset with my Good Friend this weekend over a misunderstanding. I thought he had blown me off, when he actually called me the day before I had my minor meltdown. Ah, nothing is quite so refreshing as feeling like an ass. But, that brings me back to vulnerability. I have feelings for this friend of mine, and in having them, I have insecurity and vulnerability. I care for him, muchly. I would love to be his sweetie, and the miles and miles of distance amplifies the neurosis. :) Being an awesome guy (very), he put up with it, but I felt bad for being an ass. I guess if I didn't act like one from time to time, I'd have to be some kind of saint.
What kind of fun would THAT be?
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Unexpected
Okay, so I hinted that a long detailed post chronicling the Journey to Freedom would come, and when my Independence Day came, I couldn't find the gumption to do it. In thinking about how I wanted to convey the terror and tumult of that night, of that week, I realized something. Something HUGE. I have begun healing. That is significant. In trying to recapture how hard that night was, I realized I could no longer conjure the emotion attached to it.
For me, that is massive. I am an emotional person. I form attachments to events, people, places, memories, THINGS. I will remember a smell, how the light looked in the instance, the background noise, the positioning of the people, their expressions and body language, and it will trigger an emotional response. When I look back at that night, I can remember how things happened, the phone call from Janet, her urging me to leave Anthony. The call to the women's shelter to ASK THEM if I had "been abused" by describing my life to them. Them telling me that YES, I had..
The terror at the realization that I HAD a way out, and the knowledge that I didn't know what time He would come home from class, and that the intake over the phone would take an hour. KNOWING I would run out of time before he came home, and that I'd be stuck. Then the call from Lorenzo and Lien, urging, begging, pleading with me to leave. Then, most bizarrely, my rush to clean the house before he came home.
Yes, I had been told "you have suffered abuse, and we will take you here" I had been told by my friends, ANTHONY'S friend from before the marriage that what was happening was inexcusable and WRONG, and I vacuumed and was washing dishes before I packed everyone up and flew. I was terrified, I was shaking and on the verge of tears as I told everyone to get shoes and socks on, grab their blankets and we were going.
I didn't leave a note. I grabbed the CD of family photos, hoping to get one with Tatiana in our house, to PROVE he had been committing adultery. Then we flew to the police station, I called Liz when we got there to tell her where we were, I called work to tell them I couldn't come in, didn't KNOW when I WOULD come in. Then I waited for the people from the women's shelter to come and meet with me. Liz came with toys and color books for the kids. She gave me her cel phone so I could keep in touch.
I have never done anything SO bold, so brave in my entire life. It took every ounce of strength and courage I have in me to do it, and I am glad for the impetus of my friends behind me. The terror I experienced that night is unlike anything else I have ever known.
We arrived at the shelter about 10 at night. They situated us in a multi-family room, so all the kids and I could sleep together. They didn't go to school the next day, or the day after, as we tried to situate ourselves and recover from the shock. No one wanted to call dad. No one wanted to go home, OR to school. Then, 3 days later, he found the house, took the car, and we were forced to move to another shelter to protect the anonymity of the women there. We moved to Santa Barbara.
The shelter there was larger, a converted motel. It had less of a 'safe" feel to it, and it was there that I was informed that I had made a mistake. See, in all the rush, I had asked "DO I need to do anything? I don't want him to say I kidnapped the kids" They informed me I hadn't. I found out in Santa Barbara I was supposed to have called the DA and filed "good cause" so that they COULDN'T say I kidnapped them. I immediately did, and she thanked me for calling, but that I SHOULD have called the night I left. I told her I was informed I didn't need to call anyone, and she was miffed, but excused it.
That's significant, because the next day, Anthony filed a motion with the court to get the kids returned to him under an emergency custody order. He claimed I was mentally ill (I was in therapy) and that I had 'real issues coping with the children by herself'. YOU Try taking care of 5 children, cleaning a house, sleeping 4 hours a day AND putting up with your husband bringing a woman into your home, and tell ME how you do? Mmmkay? Because I had called the DA, because I was at the police station that night, because I went to a domestic violence shelter, criminal charges weren't filed (he did try to get me for kidnapping), but the children WERE remanded into his care. I found out about that at 10am, by the DA herself, who called my cel (thank you, that was more than you HAD to do), and told me that I had to contact A's attorney.
I did, and returned them THAT night. I went to live with Liz and her family for 3 weeks, where I did much crying, raging, and began to heal.
I got the kids back.
I am on my own now, with a better paying job, and I have healed significantly.
And I wouldn't change ANY of that. ANY of it. I needed to go through that hell before I could sit here today and tell my story. I have left out details, and the journey AFTER freedom has been equally as hard as the breaking free was. There's responsibility in freedom that you have to learn. Especially when your freedom impacts 5 people. The gratitude and love I feel for 'my people' is tremendous. I am blessed AND loved.
Ultimately, though, I am free. This post is more than a week late, but it's still timely and significant. That I can't recall the emotions readily is important to me. I am over Anthony. I am. He irks me, because he's just an ass, but I don't feel loss toward him. I don't miss him. I don't even miss the marriage anymore. :D
THAT is wondrous.
SHINY!!!!
For me, that is massive. I am an emotional person. I form attachments to events, people, places, memories, THINGS. I will remember a smell, how the light looked in the instance, the background noise, the positioning of the people, their expressions and body language, and it will trigger an emotional response. When I look back at that night, I can remember how things happened, the phone call from Janet, her urging me to leave Anthony. The call to the women's shelter to ASK THEM if I had "been abused" by describing my life to them. Them telling me that YES, I had..
The terror at the realization that I HAD a way out, and the knowledge that I didn't know what time He would come home from class, and that the intake over the phone would take an hour. KNOWING I would run out of time before he came home, and that I'd be stuck. Then the call from Lorenzo and Lien, urging, begging, pleading with me to leave. Then, most bizarrely, my rush to clean the house before he came home.
Yes, I had been told "you have suffered abuse, and we will take you here" I had been told by my friends, ANTHONY'S friend from before the marriage that what was happening was inexcusable and WRONG, and I vacuumed and was washing dishes before I packed everyone up and flew. I was terrified, I was shaking and on the verge of tears as I told everyone to get shoes and socks on, grab their blankets and we were going.
I didn't leave a note. I grabbed the CD of family photos, hoping to get one with Tatiana in our house, to PROVE he had been committing adultery. Then we flew to the police station, I called Liz when we got there to tell her where we were, I called work to tell them I couldn't come in, didn't KNOW when I WOULD come in. Then I waited for the people from the women's shelter to come and meet with me. Liz came with toys and color books for the kids. She gave me her cel phone so I could keep in touch.
I have never done anything SO bold, so brave in my entire life. It took every ounce of strength and courage I have in me to do it, and I am glad for the impetus of my friends behind me. The terror I experienced that night is unlike anything else I have ever known.
We arrived at the shelter about 10 at night. They situated us in a multi-family room, so all the kids and I could sleep together. They didn't go to school the next day, or the day after, as we tried to situate ourselves and recover from the shock. No one wanted to call dad. No one wanted to go home, OR to school. Then, 3 days later, he found the house, took the car, and we were forced to move to another shelter to protect the anonymity of the women there. We moved to Santa Barbara.
The shelter there was larger, a converted motel. It had less of a 'safe" feel to it, and it was there that I was informed that I had made a mistake. See, in all the rush, I had asked "DO I need to do anything? I don't want him to say I kidnapped the kids" They informed me I hadn't. I found out in Santa Barbara I was supposed to have called the DA and filed "good cause" so that they COULDN'T say I kidnapped them. I immediately did, and she thanked me for calling, but that I SHOULD have called the night I left. I told her I was informed I didn't need to call anyone, and she was miffed, but excused it.
That's significant, because the next day, Anthony filed a motion with the court to get the kids returned to him under an emergency custody order. He claimed I was mentally ill (I was in therapy) and that I had 'real issues coping with the children by herself'. YOU Try taking care of 5 children, cleaning a house, sleeping 4 hours a day AND putting up with your husband bringing a woman into your home, and tell ME how you do? Mmmkay? Because I had called the DA, because I was at the police station that night, because I went to a domestic violence shelter, criminal charges weren't filed (he did try to get me for kidnapping), but the children WERE remanded into his care. I found out about that at 10am, by the DA herself, who called my cel (thank you, that was more than you HAD to do), and told me that I had to contact A's attorney.
I did, and returned them THAT night. I went to live with Liz and her family for 3 weeks, where I did much crying, raging, and began to heal.
I got the kids back.
I am on my own now, with a better paying job, and I have healed significantly.
And I wouldn't change ANY of that. ANY of it. I needed to go through that hell before I could sit here today and tell my story. I have left out details, and the journey AFTER freedom has been equally as hard as the breaking free was. There's responsibility in freedom that you have to learn. Especially when your freedom impacts 5 people. The gratitude and love I feel for 'my people' is tremendous. I am blessed AND loved.
Ultimately, though, I am free. This post is more than a week late, but it's still timely and significant. That I can't recall the emotions readily is important to me. I am over Anthony. I am. He irks me, because he's just an ass, but I don't feel loss toward him. I don't miss him. I don't even miss the marriage anymore. :D
THAT is wondrous.
SHINY!!!!
Friday, February 8, 2008
A Link to the Past
I was reading archived posts from my friend Krista's website.. I feel this is significantly important enough to repost, even 2-3 years after she originaly posted this on her site.
I DO agree. It IS that important.
A lot has been said about how to prevent rape.
Women should learn self-defense. Women should lock themselves in their houses after dark. Women shouldn't have long hair and women shouldn't wear short skirts. Women shouldn't leave drinks unattended. Fuck, they shouldn't dare to get drunk at all.
instead of that bullshit, how about:
if a woman is drunk, don't rape her.
if a woman is walking alone at night, don't rape her.
if a women is drugged and unconscious, don't rape her.
if a woman is wearing a short skirt, don't rape her.
if a woman is jogging in a park at 5 am, don't rape her.
if a woman looks like your ex-girlfriend you're still hung up on, don't rape her.
if a woman is asleep in her bed, don't rape her.
if a woman is asleep in your bed, don't rape her.
if a woman is doing her laundry, don't rape her.
if a woman is in a coma, don't rape her.
if a woman changes her mind in the middle of or about a particular activity, don't rape her.
if a woman has repeatedly refused a certain activity, don't rape her.
if a woman is not yet a woman, but a child, don't rape her.
if your girlfriend or wife is not in the mood, don't rape her.
if your step-daughter is watching tv, don't rape her.
if you break into a house and find a woman there, don't rape her.
if your friend thinks it's okay to rape someone, tell him it's not, and that he's not your friend.
if your "friend" tells you he raped someone, report him to the police.
if your frat-brother or another guy at the party tells you there's an unconscious woman upstairs and it's your turn, don't rape her, call the police and tell the guy he's a rapist.
tell your sons, god-sons, nephews, grandsons, sons of friends, daughters - tell everyone it's not okay to rape someone.
don't tell your women friends how to be safe and avoid rape.
don't imply that she could have avoided it if she'd only done/not done x.
don't imply that it's in any way her fault.
don't let silence imply agreement when someone tells you he "got some" with the drunk girl.
don't perpetuate a culture that tells you that you have no control over or responsibility for your actions. You can, too, help yourself.
If you agree, repost it. It's that important.
I DO agree. It IS that important.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Perspective
"DANG, He's NICE!" quoth Isabella. Why did she say that, you ask? Because I was describing an exchange between myself and a really good friend of mine. The exact story is mine, not even the kids know about what it was, but I was intimating how he had the oportunity to be angry and say mean things, and it didn't happen.
Why am I relating this? Not because I want to share HOW cool he is (Very.), but because I want to make a point. My children have learned that losing your temper and being verbally abusive is "normal" and acceptable. What have I done to these people? IN all the years of staying with my Ex Asshole, I was thinking it was better for them, being raised in an "unbroken home" when in reality, it had never been whole.
"It's kind of entertaining to watch you two fight" (Mystique, listening to my end of an argument about the station wagon, and how I have to find a place for it, or have it towed. "It's not entertaining!" I snap back. Because, it isn't. I hung up on him, because I didn't feel like I should have to listen to him tell me about how awful I am.
The car has been ticketed. I have to move it or it's gonna get towed and trashed. I asked him if he wanted it and this is the conversation : (A)"I CANT TOUCH THE CAR! IT SAID SO IN THE COURT PAPERS!" (S)"I know what it said, but I'm asking you, do you want it? You never signed it over to me, so it's still in your name. I couldn't afford to fix it." (A)"I want it in the condition you got it in - running" (S)"It needs the starter replaced" (A)"They're not that expensive" (S)"I couldn't fix it.." (A)"-You'd have to pay a mechanic to fix it." (S)"I'm asking you if you want it, we can work something out with the court to give it to you." (A)"I can't have it, the court said so!" (A)"YOU HAVE A DRIVEWAY, A GARAGE." (S)"If you don't want it, I am going to have to wrecked." (A)"I don't consent to that" (S)"So, do you want it or not?"
He started to repeat himself about how the court said he couldn't have it, that they gave me SOLE use of it. Well, the sole use part is true, because it was the family vehicle. I had been granted physical custody of the kids (we share joint physical and legal, but they live here primarily.
The car is a piece of junk. The front passenger door doesn't open from the inside. The left rear driver side seatbelt doesn't work. NOne of the windows roll down. The radio drops signal, and you have to bang on the dashboard to make it work. The steering wheel is loose and wobbly, The gear indicator is busted, you never know what gear you're in unless you count from park. The driver's seat is loose and rocks (it's not supposed to). The ceiling liner is torn out. It leaks radiator fluid AND oil. Oh, and let's not forget that it overheats in 80 degree weather. It's stalled on the freeway to LA more than once.
Now, bear in mind this was "my car" I drove the kids to and from school, to and from the store, to and from Drs appts. I took them down south to visit our friends, and we drove it for "family" stuff, if it ever came up. The car has over 200K miles on it. She was good to me, and took care of me and my needs. I loved her, and I will miss her, but She's not worth pumping hundreds, THOUSANDS of dollars into.
SO we arrive, yet again to control. Ahhh... Control. What did I do when he kept steering the conversation back to how "the court gave it to him, and he couldn't touch it? I told him I wasn't arguing with him anymore. And hung up.
Then the comment of "that was entertaning" from Mystique, because if you can't change a situation, you gotta laugh at it.
My children don't know what NORMAL is. That is a frightening thought. Hell, *I* don't know what normal is. But I am learning to spot abuse...
And this will serve as a prelude to a long post that I have been trying to map out in my head. I am fast approaching my Independance Day - Feb 14th, the day I left him and fled with the kids to a women's shelter. I have never documented that frightening journey, and I feel like I owe it to myself, to what I have surmounted to THIS point to get where I am today.. I am a long way from the summit of hardships, but I am climbing the hill, and not being knocked down so much. THAT deserves a cookie.
WOOT! COOKIE!
Why am I relating this? Not because I want to share HOW cool he is (Very.), but because I want to make a point. My children have learned that losing your temper and being verbally abusive is "normal" and acceptable. What have I done to these people? IN all the years of staying with my Ex Asshole, I was thinking it was better for them, being raised in an "unbroken home" when in reality, it had never been whole.
"It's kind of entertaining to watch you two fight" (Mystique, listening to my end of an argument about the station wagon, and how I have to find a place for it, or have it towed. "It's not entertaining!" I snap back. Because, it isn't. I hung up on him, because I didn't feel like I should have to listen to him tell me about how awful I am.
The car has been ticketed. I have to move it or it's gonna get towed and trashed. I asked him if he wanted it and this is the conversation : (A)"I CANT TOUCH THE CAR! IT SAID SO IN THE COURT PAPERS!" (S)"I know what it said, but I'm asking you, do you want it? You never signed it over to me, so it's still in your name. I couldn't afford to fix it." (A)"I want it in the condition you got it in - running" (S)"It needs the starter replaced" (A)"They're not that expensive" (S)"I couldn't fix it.." (A)"-You'd have to pay a mechanic to fix it." (S)"I'm asking you if you want it, we can work something out with the court to give it to you." (A)"I can't have it, the court said so!" (A)"YOU HAVE A DRIVEWAY, A GARAGE." (S)"If you don't want it, I am going to have to wrecked." (A)"I don't consent to that" (S)"So, do you want it or not?"
He started to repeat himself about how the court said he couldn't have it, that they gave me SOLE use of it. Well, the sole use part is true, because it was the family vehicle. I had been granted physical custody of the kids (we share joint physical and legal, but they live here primarily.
The car is a piece of junk. The front passenger door doesn't open from the inside. The left rear driver side seatbelt doesn't work. NOne of the windows roll down. The radio drops signal, and you have to bang on the dashboard to make it work. The steering wheel is loose and wobbly, The gear indicator is busted, you never know what gear you're in unless you count from park. The driver's seat is loose and rocks (it's not supposed to). The ceiling liner is torn out. It leaks radiator fluid AND oil. Oh, and let's not forget that it overheats in 80 degree weather. It's stalled on the freeway to LA more than once.
Now, bear in mind this was "my car" I drove the kids to and from school, to and from the store, to and from Drs appts. I took them down south to visit our friends, and we drove it for "family" stuff, if it ever came up. The car has over 200K miles on it. She was good to me, and took care of me and my needs. I loved her, and I will miss her, but She's not worth pumping hundreds, THOUSANDS of dollars into.
SO we arrive, yet again to control. Ahhh... Control. What did I do when he kept steering the conversation back to how "the court gave it to him, and he couldn't touch it? I told him I wasn't arguing with him anymore. And hung up.
Then the comment of "that was entertaning" from Mystique, because if you can't change a situation, you gotta laugh at it.
My children don't know what NORMAL is. That is a frightening thought. Hell, *I* don't know what normal is. But I am learning to spot abuse...
And this will serve as a prelude to a long post that I have been trying to map out in my head. I am fast approaching my Independance Day - Feb 14th, the day I left him and fled with the kids to a women's shelter. I have never documented that frightening journey, and I feel like I owe it to myself, to what I have surmounted to THIS point to get where I am today.. I am a long way from the summit of hardships, but I am climbing the hill, and not being knocked down so much. THAT deserves a cookie.
WOOT! COOKIE!
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