I
packed and unpacked my belongings several times that month. I periodically sat
in the living room amidst my boxes of personal things and sobbed. There was an
outline of my body embedded into the wall. It was evidence of where I landed
when he picked me up and threw me… that night I stood up to him.
He
was the textbook example of an abuser. But I had not read the book.
During
those last few months, he cheated on me over and over again, treated me as a
prisoner, and took everything I had. Yet, I had been afraid to be alone, and I stayed
with him for several years because I thought he might change. I hoped he would,
but I found only God can change the hearts of people. No matter how much love I
showed, the forgiveness I attempted to give when I learned of his
unfaithfulness… nothing would ever change his real feelings towards me.
That
summer, not many days after the hole in the wall was carved, I went home on my
lunch hour because I felt like something was wrong. I was also very close to
moving out, even though my possessions had been unpacked again. He wasn’t there
when I arrived that afternoon, which was a relief, but also nerve-wracking. He
had a habit of disappearing without calling when he was involved in questionable
activities.
I
walked into my bathroom, only to find someone else’s hairspray. I stood there
and stared at that bottle for a few minutes while my mind was processing this
betrayal. The bottle was the “final straw.”
After
my decision had been made, the afternoon was a whirlwind. I called and talked
to my boss and took the rest of the day off work. My parents loaned me the
money for a deposit on the apartment I’d already looked at the week before. Mom
picked up my dogs and laundry. Dad paid for a moving service and a security
guard. And we packed it all.
The
next thing I knew, I was sitting in a beautiful apartment not far from my
office. It was really perfect.
Except
my heart was breaking.
No
one quite understood the agony and grief I suffered for many months after
leaving my abusive husband that day.
I
think women who are mistreated by the men they love have difficulty putting
into words the depth of their heartache. And there are those who judge women harshly
when they go back to abusive men. I wonder if it’s because they don’t truly
understand the courage it takes to walk away from someone they love. They had
hopes and dreams for their marriage, just like other girls whose marriages
aren’t abusive. They try to see beyond the hard exterior and violent and cruel
actions into the heart of a hurting soul. Unfortunately, they can get pulled into
the relationship again if they are too compassionate.
That
happened to me. I was drawn back in several times before I was able to
emotionally let it go. Guilt, shock, concern for him… it almost destroyed my
life. He could have killed me more than once.
I
am so grateful he didn’t!
You
see, when I became involved with him at age 18, I had given up on my belief
that God had a plan for my life. I wanted to be married and have kids and a
good life. And I didn’t want to wait. That seems foolish now.
Almost
a year after I moved out, I stopped going out to bars with my friends. I
realized I was looking for happiness in things that were fleeting, and I needed
to get my life in order.
So,
I went back to church. I also began attending college, speculating and dreaming
about the future. And I started believing again.
I
met my husband in April of the next year, and we were married four months
later. We have been married for 22 years now. We have a beautiful life, were
blessed with five sons and too many blessings to count. We have had our share
of problems, like all married couples do, but no matter what has happened, he
has never raised a hand to me.
If
I could go back and give my younger self some advice, it would be this: Try not
to be impatient, keep praying, don’t stop believing in God’s plan for your
life, and don’t ever give up on your dreams.
