Thursday, September 16, 2010

Morning Wake-up Call

I am haunted by the day I left the house. Not because of what happened, but because of what didn't.

I didn't get to say goodbye to my children. I don't know when I will get to hold them, kiss them, or sing silly songs with them again. I don't know when I will get to see their sweet little faces pressed against mine, laughing while they tell me that I'm a silly kid. I didn't get to explain to them that mommy was going to be gone for a while, but that I would be back. I didn't know it would be over just like that.

I wake every morning thinking about that day.

My mornings with the girls were my favorite time of day. Audrey was always the first one awake. She would come into my room and crawl up onto my bed and snuggle with me. Sometimes she would fall back asleep, but more often than not she would lie awake singing softly to herself until I lazily woke up and smiled at her. She would get a huge grin on her face and whisper "hurray! Good morning sleepy head!"

Then we would stay in bed singing song, reading stories, and laughing about nothing. This always lasted until Bethany finally woke up and would sneak in. She was much grumpier in the mornings and would just want to snuggle until she was fully awake. Then she would join in on the singing and jumping on the bed. Our mornings were usually late and happy!

I miss those mornings.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Angels in disguise

I've wondered why it's easy to believe bad things people tell us, but very hard to digest and fully believe the good.

Last Sunday, a dear friend of mine stopped by unexpectedly. I haven't seen her since we graduated from high school. It was so wonderful to see a familiar face. But more importantly, it was wonderful to hear from someone who knows me and knows who I am.

Her encouragement and support were unmatched. She helped me remember the strength I have inside--a strength I have always had but forgot existed. The most important thing she helped me realize: That the person I was with my husband is not who I am. It's just who I was with him.

That realization couldn't have come at a better time. I was losing faith and hope and getting caught up in all the negative things I've come to believe about myself in the last 5 years. I needed someone to pinch me; to wake me up out of the trance and show me the positive.

I believe God sends angels among us. I am indebted to the angels in my life.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Time for Change

I went for a walk early this morning. The air was crisp and it was peaceful. The colors on the trees are changing. Autumn is here.

Living in the Rocky Mountains, I get to see the seasons change and usually the change is abrupt. It seems, one day the sun is radiating the warmth of summer and the next, the cold front has moved in and altered the landscape. It always takes me by surprise, as if I was holding on too tightly to summer and didn't want to let it go.

I think that is how a lot of my life is. Especially now. My world has changed and yet, somehow, I feel reluctant to change with it.

The last five years, my family watched from a distance as I changed. They say the change was abrupt, but to me it came so gradually, that I didn't realize what had happened to me. But I do remember the moment when I realized I no longer knew who was staring back at me in the mirror. The person I saw was hallow, defeated, depressed, and extremely anxious. She was someone who was wrong, who was to blame for all the problems that were happening in her marriage, someone who couldn't do anything right, and someone who felt crazy. I saw no beauty and no confidence.

My old self couldn't believe what she was seeing, but my husband's voice (someone who I trusted and loved and had committed my life to) and actions were in my mind telling me I was broken and needed to be fixed.

I remember trying and trying to do things right. To get it right. To make my husband happy. I complied with all his demands, yet he still said it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough. I couldn't earn enough money. I couldn't keep my temper under control enough. I wasn't meek enough. I didn't honor my husband the way a wife should. I didn't listen and obey him enough. I didn't keep the house clean enough. I wasn't responsible enough. I wasn't thin enough (and yes he did say that outright! I also didn't have big enough boobs--he would have preferred DD to my smallish B's). He wanted me to be the 'Madonna and the whore'--meaning the trophy wife, mother, career woman, housekeeper, pious spiritual giant AND a slut, stripper, swinger, bi-sexual, porn star.

I will admit, I could never be both extremes and that was a problem. I also do have a temper and, like a child, threw a few tantrums. But I was always trying to be better. To be different. To be more of what he wanted.

Now, being away from the abuse, I see things differently. I see my old self emerging--slowly. But I find myself resisting the change. I know it's changes for the better, but I still have the voice in the back of my head saying 'you are broken and need to be fixed'.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

The Scheme

A couple of years ago, my husband told me he had an idea that I wouldn't like. It was his way of 'thinking outside the box' to help meet our financial demands. He knew my desire was to stay at home with the kids and be a full time mom. He was still in school and didn't think he could work and go to school at the same time. (So, I've been working full time and taking care of the kids while is has been away at school at Harvard.)

He proposed that we have his parents adopt our 2 children. Since they (his parents) are on social security, if they adopted our girls, they would be able to get an increase in benefits. That increase they would pass on to us. He promised that the increase would be enough to allow me to stay home with the kids or allow us to moved out to Boston with him and be able to be together as a family.

I, of course, didn't just say no, I said, 'Hell NO!'

That didn't stop him from talking about it. He continually brought it up and forced the issue to be discussed. I didn't want to consider having my children adopted by anyone, but least of all having them adopted by his parents! I don't trust them and never really have. I don't like the way they babysit our kids. I don't like the way they teach them about certain topics. I didn't want them exposed to his parents more than was absolutely necessary. And neither did my husband, but in discussing it, he promised that the adoption would be on paper only. That this scheme wouldn't change how I was raising them. I was promised that his parents would never get involved in our lives or how we chose to raise our kids.

After over a year of him arguing his points about the adoption, he finally resorted to telling me that is was the only way. That he felt a spiritual confirmation that it was what we were supposed to do. Over that year, our financial situation had worsened. I couldn't make enough money on my own to support the weight of our finances, so I consented to the adoption.

In May 2010, I went before a judge and relinquished my parental rights. The next week, my husband came to me and told me he wanted a divorce and had already filled out the divorce papers. I felt blindsided!

Fast Forward

Six years ago I met this dashing and handsome man. He was tall, had dark hair and beautiful green eyes. He walked with confidence and charisma. He was ambitious and talented. When he sang, my heart would just melt. I felt like I could just be myself with him. He was intoxicating. I fell head over heels and we were married 3 month later! I always thought when you know it's right, you just know it. So, why waste time dating, right?!?

Fast forward almost 6 years. Here I sit alone in my sister's home. Sad, confused, scared. Three months ago I walked out of a sexual, emotional, and verbally abusive relationship. I am glad and relieved that I finally had the courage to leave. It feels as if a heavy weight has been lifted and I'm able to see what has become of me.

I'm just a shadow of the person I once was. The joy, faith, and happiness has been replaced with fear, anxiety, and depression. It makes me sad that I allowed this to happen to me, but I know the reasons why I did. There were just two:

1. I never wanted to give up on the person I loved. No matter what. Divorce or leaving meant giving up on him.

2. My children. My precious little ones!
Bethany, 4 Audrey, 2 1/2
Most moms can understand when I say, my children are my whole reason for being. They mean everything to me. They are the main reason I stayed in a broken relationship so long...I wanted to keep our family together. At least in their eyes--to believe that we were a strong, healthy, happy family.
But when I couldn't pretend anymore, I lost everything!

My children were taken from me! My husband and his parents won't let me see them. I haven't seen them in over 3 months! It's a slow and painful torture. Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day...waiting, hoping I will see them again.

I send cards and small gifts every week, just hoping and praying that they will at least get them and know that mommy is still here and loves them very much.

They are so small and we've never been away from each other for more than a week. I cry myself to sleep at night wondering who tucked them in and what have they been told when they ask, "where'd mommy go?" I wake up with nightmares of them crying and crying and I can't reach them to comfort and dry their tears.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Who am I? No one of consequence. Just a girl who has a story to tell.


My Mom always told me to write down my story. When I was in college, she would giggle like a school girl as I would report the events of the day. It seemed like there was always something funny or crazy that would happen around me. Perhaps, I was just aware of my surroundings or could find the humor in everyday events. Regardless of when or why I called, I always had a story to tell which would send her laughing.

I would tell her about the most embarrassing things that would happen to me (like the time I spent all day on campus thinking I looked great because everyone was staring at me, only to realize when I got home, that I forgot to wear a bra and I was wearing a white shirt!) Or she would get an earful of the most absurd situations (I actually saw someone slip on a banana peel!) Or she would get the exaggerated story of some random person that had spoken with me and spilled their life story in it's entirety. Oh, and let's not forget the men--their cheesy pick up lines and the fun-filled dates! Whatever the day brought, a new story was born and I loved to make my mom laugh!

The stories continued after I graduated, as did my Mom's promptings to write them down. "We'll write a book someday," she would say. I would agree with her, yet never wrote a word. I always thought I would have a plethora of stories to tell. That life would continually feed me words of laughter, encouragement, love, and amusement.

One day the stories stopped, and it wasn't until recently that I discovered the reason why.