The shotgun

The domestic violence order of protection  (dvop) was clear.  KR was to turn in all his firearms while the dvop was in effect.  I returned to our home to try to recover my children and my things (that story of destruction another time) with a judges order for KR to be gone from the home. What I found when I arrived, was a shotgun laying out in plain sight.  It scared me, and I immediately called the police. (Our home was 3 hours away from where I had fled too). They came and took custody of the gun and wrote a report. But like most violations of dvops, no arrest was made.  My mom's cousin was with me, and she is my mothers age. Several hours later, when I returned to my parents home, the local police showed up at their door. They said that KR had called and made a report that an older woman who had been with me, called him and told him that I had taken his shotgun, loaded it and was going to kill my 3 children and myself.  I explained to the officer what had gone on that day, the name of the officer/city where I had been, and he went off to make some calls. Obviously,  KR had at some point, seen who was with me, but had not seen the police arrive and remove the gun. After the officer confirmed my story, he left. A few days later,  I ordered a copy of the report from the initial officer, who took custody of the weapon. The report stated that the shotgun was loaded with 4 shells. KR had loaded the weapon, and then hoped I would panic and take it, attempting to set me up as homicidal and suicidal.  This is one way a narcissitic batterer attempts revenge, when their victim leaves.

Broken phone

KR had lost his job (the first of many times, I will tell those stories another time) and we had temporarily moved in with his parents. I was selling the house I owned prior to meeting him, and planned on moving two states away. We weren't married yet, I was pregnant with our first child, had already moved my two oldest children from my first marriage to our (hopefully)  new city (they were with my parents) and my 2.5 year old stayed with me. I had no idea what was in store for me when we moved in with his parents. KR's dad was verbally and physically abusive to his mom. I witnessed him calling her every name in the book, and one day, watched him chase her out of the house, threatening her. I couldn't stand being there,  or having my daughter witnessing this either. I told KR we needed to stay somewhere else, a motel even, until we could get to our new city. KR was furious. He called me a liar, said I wasn't seeing what I saw ( even though he was there when it was occurring) and was outraged that I would speak poorly about his parents after they had "taken us in".  I told him I was going to stay somewhere else and tried to leave.  He got even angrier. He grabbed my purse and took my atm card away. My van was on empty, I was an hour away from my job and co-workers, and had no one local to give me money gas. I begged him to give me my card back and let me and my daughter leave. If he didn't want to go with us, he didn't have to, but he had no right to steal my card and prevent me from leaving. He laughed and yelled at me at the same time. He called me every name you could imagine. Crying, I grabbed my daughter and my cell phone and walked into another room. I called the ER I worked at. A charge nurse I worked with frequently answered. I started to tell her what was going on, but within seconds,  KR grabbed the phone from me (he had follwed me) and smashed it to the ground, and it broke. He didnt know the connection wasn't lost immediately, and the charge nurse could hear him continue to yell at me, threaten me and tell me I couldn't leave for several minutes before the phone died.  She called the local police, but she didn't know where I was and she anxiously waited to hear if I was safe. It took about 10 minutes for me to be able to make my way outside with my daughter who by this time was crying hysterically too. I didn't know what I was going to do. At this point, KR's dad pulled up. I told him that KR had taken my atm card, broken my phone and refused to let me leave. KR denied everything, acted calm and like nothing had just happened.  He said I was crazy and out of control. His dad said he would give me ten dollars for my tank ( to this day, I think he only did this because of his sons recent brushes with the law and him not wanting me to go to a neighbors to call the police). That ten dollars got me to the ER where I worked, and I was able to call the bank, cancel and replace my card, and get set up with a friend for a few days. After that, I got a motel room. Within a week, KR was calling saying he was sorry. His excuse was that he was stressed about not having a job, a baby on the way, our plans on moving away from his family and his recent troubles with the law...and of course....me not understanding and getting along with his family and not being understanding of HIS feelings and needs. Pretty soon, he had ME feeling guilty about the whole situation. I was so conditioned and manipulated that I believed I was the problem. Looking back, and after years of counseling, I can't believe I was so under his thumb. I went from being a strong, independent woman, to a controlled, abused woman. It can happen to anyone.

The night shift

I had only worked a few hours that night when he called. The shift started at 7pm and ended at 7am. I was new to the department, just barely off orientation.  But lets back up..

I had 5 kids,  (the older 3 were at their dads, so only the 2 younger boys were home that night) , the youngest was just over a year old. My husband at the time ( I will call him KR) said he had a headache before I left for work and wanted me to call in sick, but he was playing video games and wasn't really sick.  He just wanted to keep playing World of Warcraft without interruption. I couldn't call in sick to my new job, and told him to take a motrin and he would feel better.  That did not make him happy.  I got my stuff, said goodbye to the kids and went to work.

Around 9:30 I got the phone call.  It was KR.  He was slurring his speech and was angry.  He told me that I had to come home right now. He said he couldn't handle the kids anymore, and that I had to do it.  I asked why he was slurring.  He told me he had taken some of my phenergan.  He had stolen pills from me before, so this didn't surprise me, but it worried me.  He could get out of control angry on phenergan.  I told him to just put the kids in bed and to go to bed himself.  (I was the only one making any real money at this point, and I couldn't afford for us to lose my job and then lose our home).

And then it happened.  He told me if I didn't come home right now, I would come home to dead children. So I went home.

The next day he told me he didn't mean it and he was sorry, he was just mad and wanted me to come home because he didn't feel good and I wasn't listening to him.

That is just one of many days of my life at the hands of an abuser.  This was several years into the manipulation, the loss of self worth and when I actually believed him when he apologized or was able to talk his way out of things.

This is the face of domestic violence.  And I want to bring that face out of the shadows, and into the light.

The night

The night is cold, the breeze slight. I am sitting in my room with the warmth of the heater around me. I am listening to the children laugh, as they watch a funny cartoon, and hear the baby's quiet breathing, asleep, snuggled in her crib. My heart is joyful, my spirit content. My faith strong, my hopes high. My children safe, my family held up in prayer. I am a blessed daughter of God, there is nothing more I could ask for.

5 months

In 50 minutes, it will be 5 months to the day I left my marriage. I thought the divorce would be final, and the drama lessened. I was wrong. But, God continues to bless me, hold me up and provide for all my needs. I will have faith, and continue to trust him in all things. I will look to him when I need strength, hope and encouragement. His word, is the answer to all things. Regardless of my failures, wrongs and sins, God loves me, loves my children and forgives.

Your heart is spoken for

Alone, the endless beating of a drum
Louder than the sobbing of a soul.

Life, a desolate place of waste
Hungry for destruction and decay

Sorrow, a parasitic leech
That drains joy irreplaceable

Hope, a mocking laughter
Taunting endlessly, unreachable

Time, a steep icy path
Slipping away, not caring it was wasted


I have been positive and encouraging. I have been strong and had faith. I have trusted my God and he has delivered. But, that doesn't mean I too have days where I question, regret, feel sad or angry. Or days where I wish I could go back many years and start all over. God does not promise that we will never feel pain, or grief, or sorrow. He does not promise we will never cry, or scream, or be angry. He does not promise it will be easy, or that we will not stumble and maybe even fall at some point. He only promises that during all these things, he has us in his arms, gently holding our hearts while sharing our pain. No matter how secluded we feel, no matter how much loneliness settles upon us, God is with us, in us, carrying us, loving us, wiping our tears, and whispering "your heart is spoken for, you are mine, you are never alone".

119

I have survived. 119 days done and gone. I will survive the rest of the days yet to be counted too.