Never Give Up

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.