Time

I was the mother of two young boys living in an abusive relationship. I had two sweet, adorable, smart and funny boys and I knew...every day, in the deepest part of my soul, that we had to get out...or their destiny would be determined by this simple fact. The boys were (and are) magically fantastic. They have different Dads because...well, because they were supposed to have different Dads. For many years, I would make up some other reason. Timing, bad judgment, whatever. But, the fact remains. They have different Dads and are half brothers. People used to stop me and ask if they were twins. I always thought it would be funny to tell some sweet old lady at the bank, "No. They aren't twins. They have different Dads." I never really got the courage...but kept it in my mind if I did ever get the nerve.
So, I was living this life that was wrong for everyone involved. Violence, cruelty, shame...so much shame. I made excuses and accommodations. I tried to be better. Do better. Make it stop. Change this or that. To not make him mad. To be good enough. To not cry-that made it much worse. It was out of my hands. I can see now that it didn't matter what I did....I would never be right in this relationship. It wasn't me. Well, it was me because I chose it. But the wrongness was much bigger than me. The damage was deep and profound and nothing I could do would change any of it. But, at the time...I worked tirelessly to try to make it right.
There were so many cruel things said and done. But the last line..the one that was truly like a light switch turning off was really quite simple.
I worked nights and he worked days. We were living paycheck to paycheck. I didn't want to work nights...but it meant that I could be at home with the boys during the day and we didn't pay for daycare. What I didn't know until much later was that the anger at my being gone at night was not just directed at me. I thought it was just me that had to bear it. It wasn't. The pain of this discovery will never go away. In fact, this many years later, it hasn't lessened even one bit.
Holiday weekend.
"Don't go to work," he says.
"I have to go to work," I respond.
I don't want to go to work.
It is a holiday weekend.
But we need my paycheck.
Fight ensues.
Mean words are thrown.
I go out to my car to go to work. Leaving two sweet, little boys with an angry man. We rented in a really nice part of town. Great neighborhoods, great schools. It is a nice day. People are outside. He follows me out to my car and tries to get in. I lock the door. He sits on the hood. I am afraid and embarrassed. This is being seen by our neighbors. My dirty laundry is out for all to examine. He tries to convince me to not go to work. My mind is spinning. I don't want to go to work....but you don't want me here? You don't even like me? He stays on the hood of my car....kicking his feet into the metal. Now it is just awful. I am sad. Embarrassed. Afraid. Much more for those boys then for me.
I reach for the cell phone in the glove compartment. (Which at the time was like the size of a man's shoe.)
"Who are you calling?" he yells. "Your Dad or the cops? Call them both and I will kick your Dad's ass in front of the cops."

The situation is ugly. And way, way, way out of control. I am a prisoner in my own car, in my own life, in my own terrible choices. I look over and there-sitting on the front stoop-is my sweet little two year old. Chubby. Scared. Confused. Chin in hands. Sad.

I crack the window. "Is this what you want him to see that marriage is about?" I plead.

He looks at our son. Looks back at me with hatred in his eyes and says, "I just want him to find a better woman than you."

It was a split second. Certainly not the meanest thing that he had said. But...it was enough. It was over. We were getting out. No matter what it took. Those two perfect boys would not see another encounter like this again. It didn't matter who I had to bribe or beg for help. The moment snapped something inside of me. And, once it did, along with relief was the desperate hope that it happened soon enough. That I got out in time. That neither one of those perfect souls would ever say something or do something to or take something from that could never be given back to the person they claimed to "love." It is many years later and it is still the stuff of my nightmares.

I don't want pity. I want you to know that my really bad initial choices gave me two people that I cannot imagine living without. Well...more than two. The two are my sons. (There is nothing in the whole big Universe I would trade to have exactly what I have right now.) The rest are the ones that picked up the pieces and helped me to rebuild. That decided that judging me was not in the cards. Loving me was. Loving my boys was, too.
And, as I type it today. It burns a little...OK, alot... in my gut. The road was bumpy as Hell...and I wouldn't change a thing. The two little boys are now two amazing young men. A man who was my friend and watched it all happen and didn't give up on me is now my husband. And, my best friend. He saved me. He saved us. And, every single day is a reminder that love is what matters. Kindness changes lives. Patience, understanding, pure and true goodness....means that it will be alright. That the path is filled with all kinds of obstacles...but just stay on it. Even when your mind is shrieking that you have to find another....slow your step, trust you heart, Lean against the ones who love you, and know that it will all be OK.
And, on the days it feels like this advice is utter bullshit? Read it again. I have been there. I promise...the ones that are supposed to be there to take care are there.


TeeDubya....out.