Heather
This was originally written on August 5, 2009. It was titled, “I Remember.”
***
Today my divorce was final. Today I close a chapter of my life that I wish I had closed years ago. Today I was set free in one way, but have never really been freed in another.
For many years, my life was dark and ugly and filled with negativity and fear. I was that woman you see on the lifetime movies who puts on the act for her family but lives her life in fear of her husband.
I was the woman who would do anything not to be alone. Put up with anything to be with this person I was “in love” with.
Until one day, several months ago, I just couldn’t do it any more.
We have a slogan in Al-anon: You are only as sick as the secrets you keep and I can’t keep these any more.
You see, I remember the arguments. I remember being thrown down. I vividly remember being picked up and thrown across his parents’ kitchen. Being picked up and thrown across our front lawn. Being shoved down in a struggle over car keys and drug paraphernalia. Being attacked while I slept in order to get access to those same car keys.
I remember being tackled to the ground while he told me that he would kill me before he would let me leave. I also remember staring down the barrel of a loaded shot gun and watching him pump it thinking he was going to make good on that threat.
I remember the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach every time he would peel out of the driveway, and I remember even more the panic attack I had every time I would race down the stairs out to my car and try to follow him. Chase him down. Make him stay where he clearly didn’t want to be.
I remember screaming into the phone at his father the night he ripped me from my car and tried to run me over. I can vividly remember the look in his eyes when he ripped the keys from the ignition and I can see him hitting my car, pushing the unlock button while I sat in the drivers seat frantically pushing the lock button until he stuck the key in the door and then ripped me from the car.
I remember his dad trying to hug me and my legs giving out, standing there in the parking lot trying to figure out what the hell had happened to my life.
I remember trying to make it less than it was. Lying to the police, lying to my parents, lying to everyone. Just wanting it all to go away so he wouldn’t leave. So I wouldn’t be alone, so my life could continue in this perfect little show I was putting on for everyone.
I remember being on my honeymoon and going flying down a hill because he didn’t get his way. I remember what it felt like to be on the other side of that door when he was pounding to ask me if I was ok. If I would just open up, if we could fix this… it was our honeymoon after all….
I also remember being on the other side of that door when it was broken down. I am on my second bedroom door. The first one was kicked in. I am on my third bathroom door. In my head I can still see his fist coming through the bathroom door. It was like a scene from a horror movie only it wasn’t a movie, it was my life.
I remember spending my entire pregnancy alone. Every belly picture taken with a timer, every doctor appointment (except two) attended alone. All the planning, all the happiness I was supposed to have, gone.
I remember being 7 months pregnant on Thanksgiving day trudging through a field in the snow, climbing barbed wire fences, all in an effort to find him and make him come just so no one would know what was going on.
I remember being alone in a hospital room with my son, only four hours old, not having any idea where my husband was and being angry that I had to stay there instead of being able to leave and chase him down. I remember lying to everyone; telling them he was out pushing snow, running errands, anything to never let them know the truth.
That I was alone.
.
.
.
Alone and scared.
I remember him being pulled from a hotel room with a prostitute on the night he was committed and me spending all of my time trying to justify to everyone that they were just doing drugs in the room. They didn’t sleep together… except for the part where they did.
I remember being head butted and backhanded. I remember him spitting in my face, calling me names, and the pure hatred that spewed from his mouth during every argument we got into. He may not have been violent sober but his mouth did all of the hurting during the last two years.
I remember there were moments when I just wished he would lash out because I thought that it might hurt less to have him hit me than it did to hear him call me names and tell me how much he hated me.
I remember every little bit of this and so much more and as much as he or his family would like to pretend it didn’t happen, it did. And as much as they would like me to keep quiet, I have taken a pledge to myself that if anything I say can help one other person, I am going to say it.
I am never going to just be quiet again.
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Heather blogs at Unwritten.
34 Responses to “Heather”
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I’m glad you’ve shared your story. I think you’re incredibly brave.
Bravo, Heather. So proud of you for ending the silence and speaking out. Your voice is loud and clear. I am sure many will be helped by your courage. Blessings to you, dear one.
Thank you for sharing your story. And I read a few of your blog entries, hope that you and your lil man find the peace you deserve.
Peace for you. I hope you finally get some peace.
I remember a lot of the same stuff. You are not alone. So much love to you for your bravery and for your safety.
Thank you for the commitment to never be silent. I am grateful that you are free.
Thank-you for being brave enough to not only tell your story but survive your story.
I applaud you for being honest in your attempts to chase after him, make things seem ok, even though some may wonder why you did those things (but those of us who have been there understand and I only hope this might help others realize that they not only have to break the physical cycle of abuse by the emotional cycle as well).
Thank you for sharing. I’m glad, for you and your son, that you were able to get out. That was a very brave thing to do.
Speaking out is strong. Thank you for sharing your story.
Thank you for letting us be a part of your story. Wishing you continued courage and strength and the knowledge that you are not alone.
It’s a powerful story you tell, and I can only begin to imagine how hard it is to tell it. But that “unflinching honesty” so highly regarded in 12-step programs sort of requires it. I hope you don’t still blame yourself. This was on him, not you. And I hope with all I am that you realize that now.
It’s a long, long road back and there will be times when it seems just too hard. When those times come, look back on the love you find here and let it carry you for a while. There is no shame in leaning on us, on your friends. It’s why we’re here.
Your story, even though it’s uniquely yours, is so tragically common it defies description. You represent a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand who have not yet found their voices. You speak for them, when they cannot speak for themselves. And because of that, some of them will recognize their lives in your words. Because of that some of them will see a future where before they saw only more of the same.
Because of that, some of them will be saved before it’s too late.
It is a good thing you’ve done here. For you, for your son, and for people you’ll never meet. We will do no less for you.
Much love.
This is beautiful and sad, all at once. Although I know that these memories will never go away and maybe never even fade, I hope that as that chapter of your life was closed, you’ve gained many beautiful, happy memories.
Thank you for sharing, for giving other women the courage to speak up, the courage to know that they can leave.
Thank you so much for raising your voice and refusing to be quiet… that takes such courage! You are awesome! I am so glad that you made your way out of the situation. Prayers for a beautiful and peaceful life for you and your son.
I hope that as time goes on, you will remember with a little less pain.
You are so amazingly brave. Speaking out is the bravest thing I can think of. Keep helping others in this way, you make such a difference.
You are powerful.
Prayers of peace, love, and healing. May you close this chapter and this book. Prayers of strength as you move foward to start a new chapter in a new book, a book with a happy ending.
Proud of you.
Cunning. Baffling. Powerful.
Those are the three best words in AA, Al-anon, and Alateen to describe life with an alcoholic. Tough love is very hard to learn, even harder to master. And recognizing co-dependent behavior in oneself can be image shattering.
Thank you for speaking out. Thank you for pledging to share your story.
Keep coming back!
good thing that you have decided to do what you have to do.
my best wishes with you in your born again avatar!
Your telling of your truth, as you do it here, is like black, toxic clouds rolling away and light –, bright, pure, uplifting light — pouring through. Thank you for sharing your story with us. Best wishes for continued peace in your life.
It will take time, but you’ve waited this long, so you’ll manage.
It won’t be easy but you’ve come this far, so you can do it.
It can be scary, but you’re here so you’ve shown that you’ve got the courage and the sheer willpower to speak out … and be heard.
Eventually though, the wounds will heal, the scars will fade and you can take this collection of little nightmares and shape it into a badge of honor. A badge that says:
I survived this.
I’m better than this.
This will never be me again.
Wear it proudly, dear. May you find the peace and happiness you deserve.
Thanks for sharing. I’m so glad that you have your physical freedom; please keep working towards freedom for your soul and psyche- you deserve it.
Heather, I commend you HUGELY for speaking out. Thank you for breaking your silence and for sharing here.
Wishing you nothing but the utmost peace.
Thank you.
Heather, thank you so much for sharing your story. You are a brave woman, and I wish you all the happiness and peace in the world.
Thank you for sharing your story.
I am so glad you got away. No one deserves that. You don’t. There is someone out there who will love you with all of their being…who will love you for who you are. Not who they want you to be. I wasn’t sure that could happen but after 13 years of abuse I had enough and I finally left and then I met a man who has made it his whole life to make me happy. A man who makes me feel beautiful and smart and loved every day. It is out there for you too.
I know it wasn’t easy, but thank you for sharing your story. For showing others that they don’t have to suffer. Thank you for being a survivor. ((hugs))
Heather, I’m glad your life has gotten so much better. I read through the history on your blog(s) and it’s a powerful testimony that you share. Bless you.
Thanks for telling your story. I have so much respect for you! Keep going.
what an incredible story. I’m so glad you spoke out, and are lighting a candle against that darkness with your words.
Thank you for telling the truth.
Wow, you are an incredibly strong woman and I’m so proud of you. To endure all of those horrendous things and lie to others, it must have been indescribable. I’m so happy you made it through everything, you never deserved such abuse and pain.
I hope you will find the happiness you deserve now that this chapter is closed.