A BLOG FOR MY ANCESTORS: crisis

Journeys

10:48 AM
3 Comments

A Chance to Say "I Love You", Again

I am sitting next to my father's hospital bed. The only sounds I can hear in his room is the beeping of machines, low whispers of medical personnel in the hall, and the ventilator which is pumping air into my father's weary body. It's hard to write or speak of how I feel below the surface without being overcome with emotion. I know that if I allow myself to speak fully about them, it would be impossible for me to be strong for my father and family right now. So, I will write instead.

I knew immediately when I heard my sister's voice on Wednesday morning that a tragedy had occurred and that something was wrong with my father. We had just left him on Monday afternoon. It was hard to say good-bye and bittersweet like always because we miss him and worry that he is lonely. We had just spent almost a week with him celebrating Thanksgiving and spending time together.

Bella had been his little shadow following him around on the farm as he tended to the rabbits, turkeys, and Stinkerbelle (his spoiled, peanut-butter loving pig), We played Balderdash late into the night numerous times, We laughed so hard at times we were crying and I truly believed my dad was going to pop a blood vessel he laughed so hard at the acronym definition of B.O.B. (The Brotherhood of Old Bastards). We ate Veyo pie every night and talked about visiting Aunt Diane in Whidbey Island, Washington. Dad talked about all the places in Canada he wanted to visit. We sat together twice and watched the The Cokeville Miracle. We cried while we watched and then spoke about our ancestors and loved ones on the other side and how we know they are with us and that they our guardian angels for us here on earth. Within moments his life changed, our lives changed, and now everything is different.

When my sister described the accident I wasn't sure if my father would survived it. I immediately dropped to my knees and started begging and praying that his life would be spared. I told God that I wasn't ready to let go of my Papa!

Afterwards, I felt guilty praying for what I wanted, especially after seeing him in the ICU and after the 6 hours it took to put his jaw back together. He had tubes going in and coming out of his body and he was highly sedated because of the amount of pain he was experiencing. His weary body struggling to breathe and yet because of the fact that he survived such trauma, he seem like a giant of strength to me. A man full of grit! Things haven't changed much in these few days except that they are bringing him out of sedation randomly throughout the day to check his vitals. We both dread and rejoice in these moments.

We dread the nausea that will soon overtake him once they turn the sedation down and he begins to move. All of this causes him to throw up which is extremely traumatic with his jaw is wired shut. It sets off alarms and everyone jumps up. Nurses rush in, someone starts suctioning, the bed is elevated, anti-nausea meds are administered, and we all pray that didn't aspirate anything. Then things calm down and we rejoice because in those brief moments we catch a glimpse of our papa again! We can only communicate by squeezing hands since his jaw is wired shut. We slowly say the alphabet and he squeezes our hand when we say the letter that he wants to use to spell a word and then one of us writes it down. It is a tedious process and takes many minutes to spell a 4-5 letter word. It is exhausting both physically and emotionally. Many times we would speak to fast or he would squeeze to late and we'd write the incorrect letters and then have to start all over again.

I will never forget that first message that he slowly communicated to us. It took at least 5 minutes of slowly reciting the alphabet, squeezing, and writing. It began with the letter I. Then the letters L, U, V.... We immediately figured out the rest of the sentence shouting it out loud in unison and then starting to both cry and laugh at the same time! I love you! His eyes were closed but he smiled with his lips to show that we had finally figured it our correctly. It was one of the sweetest moments that we had together by his bedside.

Such three simple words, "I love you" and how easy for us to say them daily under normal circumstances. I have learned that life can change in a moment and our opportunities to tell others that we love them may be gone. I am so glad for the moments we all had together over Thanksgiving. We shared so many memories and we said those words often to each other. I know that I would be struggling even more dealing with this experience if I hadn't just recently had that time with him.

May we all remember to continue saying those three simple words and to say them often! Not just to those in our lives that are the easiest to love, but to those who may need to hear it the most. May we reach out, forgive, and without any expectations of how it will be received, tell that someone that we love them today!

11:01 AM
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Thirst

adversity

My head injury was the catalyst that helped me to see how important it was for me to change my life. Up until the point of the horse accident, I realized that my children had mostly seen me sad, stressed, or scared. When I did seem happy, it was usually forced and fake for the children's sake. So while lying on my back in a horse corral and staring at the dark sky on that spring night in 2004, I thought to myself that if I die now my children will have never known me to be truly happy. That thought caused me to feel a deep sadness for my children. I wanted a chance to make that not be true and that is when I started to change my life.

Recovering from a traumatic brain injury is like being in a deep and sluggish fog that slowly starts to dissipate over time. I knew that I had hurt myself, especially my brain when my head made contact with the metal fence. However, I didn't know the extent of my injury immediately.

After arriving at the hospital by ambulance the night after the horse accident, my world started to get very foggy. I guess the adrenaline which had hit my blood stream after being thrown from the horse had finally stopped pumping through my veins. The swelling of my forehead had continued. Apparently the right side of my head had sort of a Frankenstein quality to it. At least that was what I was told by the ER nurse. It wasn't aesthetically comforting to know that my head looked large and squarish, but medically it was probably good news! Most of the swelling was occurring outside of my skull. Initial brain scans showed no bleeds on my brain and so the doctors stated I had a severe concussion and should consider myself lucky. They kept me for observation for a few more hours and since I had never lost consciousness, they released me.

I wanted to get home to my girls. My daughter was fine and I was so grateful knowing that nothing had been injured or broken on her little body. She had been released hours earlier after all of her scans and x-rays came back normal. So I tried to get out of my hospital bed and move to the wheel chair.

The problem is I couldn't walk. Whenever I moved the world started spinning so fast I had to fall to the floor and hold on for the ride and then hold perfectly still until it stopped. Even in bed I fought the vertigo. If I turned over or re-positioned my head, I felt myself and the bed start spinning in a fast circle. I was grateful the vertigo didn't cause nausea for me like it can for others, but I still couldn't function because I couldn't move. They told me that the intense vertigo would gradually go away and before I left the hospital they fitted me with a pair of crutches to use to get around.

So I went home and was soon left alone to recover with my six month old baby. Holding a baby while using crutches is impossible and since I was afraid of falling while carrying her, I crawled. I have memories of crawling across my bedroom floor to her crib. Using the crib to hoist myself up and get her out. Then I would use the crib with my one free arm to slowly drop to the ground and one arm crawl back to bed. It was awkward but safe and it got us to my bed where I could lay down and nurse her. She would sit and play on the bed until I crawled back to her crib and put her in. Thank goodness she hadn't started crawling yet herself.

I don't know how long it was before my mother and sister arrived and saw me like this. They were shocked when they saw the condition that I was in and that I was alone. I hadn't thought to call for help, I was so out of it. I was a sight to behold. The large hematoma on my head had slowly changed to a deep purplish blue and the color dripped down my face under the skin. In addition, to the dramatic purple and blue hues on the right side of my face, my eye was black and swollen. My hair was matted and still had remnants of dirt from the horse arena. I was so grateful that they could help me wash it.

The doctors were correct. The vertigo slowly left over time and a week later I was back at work teaching and wearing sunglasses. I didn't want to scare my first graders when they looked at my face. The swelling had gone down but now my bruising was starting to turn green and brown on my face and neck. I still struggled with positional vertigo. When I would focus with my right eye to write on the board, my classroom would start spinning. If I changed position and held still it would eventually stop. There were other subtle things that I noticed. It was hard to stay focused on a task for an extended amount of time. For the first time in my life, I suffered from headaches. I would become extremely fatigued by the end of the day and then I started to get thirsty.

It wasn’t a normal thirst, like the kind I had experienced in the past. This intense thirst started gradually until it became so powerful that I would have licked up a dirty puddle off the ground if that is all I could have found to drink.

I first noticed it when I was pumping breast milk during morning recess for my baby. There were a couple of us working moms and so the school had turned a large closet in the building into a lactation room where we could plug in the pumps and collect the milk for our babies. I remember thinking. Wow, I'm really thirsty. It must be the change of the weather (it was getting hotter outside) or I must be producing more milk.

Every day I would get a little thirstier. Eventually, I got to the point where I was drinking a full water bottle hourly and then running to the bathroom to pee it all out. This lasted all day and all night long. For the hour that I would sleep in between hydrating and dehydrating sessions at night, I would dream of water. Water, Water, Water! Tall glasses of water, streams of ice cold water, waterfalls, waves of water and in my dreams I would be trying to drink the water and yet I never could get it to my mouth. I would wake up desperate for water and running to the bathroom to pee out more water. It was as if every cell in my body was shrinking and screaming for water at the same time. I would gulp it down and it still wasn't enough. It was exhausting and I knew something was seriously wrong with me.

I scheduled an appointment with my doctor. I needed to see him anyway. It had been a month since the accident. He specialized in emergency medicine and sports medicine and he knew right away what was wrong with me. “It sounds like you’ve injured your pituitary,” he stated matter of factly. “The small master regulatory gland located in the center of the brain. It's very hard to injure that." He said, "Especially without damaging other areas of the brain.” He ordered an MRI to confirm it and called me after receiving the results. He further explained, "Your pituitary was almost ripped from its location when you jolted your brain in the fall. Its blood supply was compromised." He concluded that my pituitary was no longer functioning and had begun to atrophy.

He also went on to explain that my body would no longer be able to retain water on its own. Treatment consists of taking a synthetic hormone every 4-6 hours daily or when the crazy thirst starts for the rest of my life in order to avoid dehydration. The medical diagnosis was Central Diabetes Insipidus.

"Be grateful you didn't break your neck or suffer cognitive brain damage," he went on to say. "It really is quite a miracle." I left slightly in shock and trying to feel grateful but mourning the loss of my pituitary. I began to wonder how my life would be affected by this change.

As my pituitary shrunk and atrophied, my courage grew. I knew now how short life could be now. A slight change in the angle I fell or the force of the fall could have easily changed the outcome of the injury causing it to be much more debilitating or fatal. How easy my life could have ended that night. Every day was a gift now and I knew it!

My mother once wisely said to me, "Wendy, you live with what you allow and if you choose to allow it and live with it, you must accept it!" Well, for almost 15 years I had lived with abuse and allowed it to happen. I wasn't going to accept it anymore.

I had given all of my power and control to someone else and trying to take that back is a very hard thing to do. It almost seems impossible at times.

I had made the mistake for years thinking that someone and something outside of myself was responsible for making me happy. I kept waiting for things to change, for him to change. When all a long I was the one needing to change in order to find happiness!

I felt empowered now and I couldn't be intimidated. I felt stronger and more confident with the knowledge that happiness was attainable and within my reach. I was determined to make a better life for my daughters.

Every time I felt thirsty, I was reminded of this and so constantly I was recommitting myself to moving forward with this change. If I felt weak I would eventually soon feel thirsty and then be reminded again. This process helped to strengthen me.

I knew that God had protected me and had spared my life. I felt His help and hand in my life. I also began to clearly see that my happiness did not include the man that I had been married to for all of those years.

When I started to express this and assert myself, the violence increased. However, my thirst for happiness and peace were far greater than my fears and so I was able to slowly begin to change my life.

12:09 PM
3 Comments

Help

adversity

How to help a friend or family member who is living with Domestic Violence.

Seeing someone you love and care for be victimized again and again by the person that should be loving them the most, can be so very frustrating and confusing. I have been that victim and I have had family, friends, and loved ones feel those feelings of frustration and helplessness.

As I look back and think about what their support meant to me and how they helped me. I realize more and more that I could not have survived those difficult times without their help. Leaving safely would have been impossible and healing would have been so much harder without them in my life.

Don't give up on them! My friends and family didn't give up on me and now my life is free of violence and full of more happiness and peace than I could have ever imagined. My children are also thriving!

Here is a list of 5 ways my friends and family gave me support and help during those difficult years:

Be Patient

Don’t give up on her. The average DV victim leaves 6 times before leaving the last time. Please try to imagine how scary it is to leave. The rage of the abuser is always compounded whenever the victim stands up and is assertive. The abuser is also a professional manipulator and if his increased anger or threats (such as taking the children from her or ‘destroying’ her in divorce court) doesn’t force her back into the relationship, then tears and threats of suicide, or grandiose promises of change accompanied by false remorse, might influence her to return to him. When she does return to him, assure her of your friendship and don’t give up on her. Acknowledge her efforts to change. Walking away or distancing yourself in frustration, will only assist the abuser to further isolate her from any type of support system.

Speak The Truth Without Telling Her What to Do

Validate her and help her clearly see the situation. Keep telling her that you are worried about her and her safety. She needs to be validated over and over again. She has the same worries of safety too, but is constantly told by the abuser that she is stupid and crazy and this causes her to continually doubt herself. My friend once told me that what made her worry the most about me, was how I doubted my own thinking. She needed to remind me that I was a smart woman with a degree and a profession. When I heard her say those words, it helped me see more clearly when he was manipulative and dishonest. Her words were powerful and gave me strength when I needed it. I repeated them often to myself when I felt doubt creep in and this strengthened my ability to discern correctly.

When you speak the truth of the situation to her clearly and often, it helps her to see and reason with clarity. It shatters the denial that she has been living with constantly. No one wants to believe that a spouse or loved one could potentially injure or kill them. So, speak the truth often but never through text or email. Remember that she has no privacy and the abuser is continually censoring her life.

Remember, she is constantly being told at home what to do and needs to learn to think for herself. Instead, give her information. Help her memorize the 24 hour DV help hotline to the nearest shelter or help her find a place to hide this information safely. My sister gave me a card with the number on it and I hid it in the lining of my purse for a year before I gained the courage and opportunity to use it.

Be Observant and Help Her Document

During the years I lived with Domestic Violence, I was so fearful that I couldn’t speak but I wanted my friend to know how bad it had gotten at home. So one day before meeting her for the afternoon, I wore short sleeves on purpose. For the first time, I had stopped covering up the bruises. This was a huge step for me. I was tired of living a lie. She saw my arms and confronted me by asking me if he had done that to me. I shook my head "yes" in response. I felt so relieved to have finally shared my secret without having to open my mouth. She was livid and I needed her to tell me how wrong it was. Then she took pictures. I needed those pictures a year later and during the criminal trial. I was grateful that she helped me document the abuse.

Help Her Make a Plan

Leaving safely is one of the most difficult things to do especially when you are living to survive and may not be thinking clearly. Along with giving her the number and address to local shelters and resources available, help her make a plan to escape so that when she feels ready she will also feel empowered. She should have a bag of essential personal clothes and items: medication, personal documents, cash, and etc., for her and the children. It should be hidden somewhere far from the eyes of the abuser. Leaving quietly and unannounced is essentially for the safety of all involved. A victim of domestic violence is most at risk for death during the first days and weeks after leaving the abuser. Never, ever go back to the house for anything! Even if you are with her to help.

Recently in Salt Lake City, two women were shot by an abuser. One of the victims was the wife of the shooter. The other was the victim’s friend. She had come along to help her (the man’s wife) gather some personal items from the home. The woman who had previously left the abuser needed some personal items from the home, so she returned. They were educated, smart, and strong women. They didn’t realize how extremely violent and dangerous and desperate the abuser could be, since their own thinking was so different than that of the perpetrator. That mistake cost them dearly.

It is essential that the victim leave quietly and quickly to an unknown location. She has to be committed to this choice and so that is why it needs to be her choice. She should eventually discard her own phone. This will help her to continue to be strong by cutting off all contact with her abuser. Her thinking will continue to remain clear when she is free from his lies, threats, and manipulations.

The friend who helped me to the shelter also helped me with this. She bought me an inexpensive prepaid cell phone. I had a new phone number and could communicate with her and my parents. I was able to assure them of my safety. I didn’t disclose my location to anyone or my phone number.

After the victim leaves, the abuser will contact everyone that he thinks she may have had contact with and “wear” them down with questions and tears to find out her location. It is best that no one knows where she is and that is why the shelter is so essential for safety. Once she is safe with her children, she needs to immediately file a protective order. She can do this online and without an attorney. It’s easy and accessible with a computer. The shelter has one available for their residents.

Continue Giving Support, Love, and Encouragement

Once the victim leaves the abusive relationship, she will need to brace herself for a battle. She will need to fight to regain her self-respect and heal. Encourage her to participate in the aftercare programs available through the Women’s Shelter and to receive counseling or therapy from a professional. Encourage her to return to the workforce or return to school and obtain a degree, if needed. There are many resources available for single women who still need to receive an under-graduate degree. Education and knowledge is essential in ending domestic violence. Just give her the information and then let her find her own pathway to healing.

The abuser will try to control and manipulate the victim and will use the court system as his forum to do so. Oftentimes, he will represent himself which can create a circus of the court system and could drain her financially and emotionally. If possible, go to the court hearings and sit near her. Act as a buffer. There is a victim’s advocate available through every police department that will also give this kind of support to victims of violence. Encourage her to ask for this support. The abuser will glare and try to intimidate her with his presence in court. I was so grateful for my friends who would stand on either side and escort me in and out of the building and away from him. Eventually, he will lose interest and move onto his next victim. She just needs to stand firm and tall and hold out until the end. This is an act of endurance and she will need you to just be a listening ear many times to give her the strength that she will need.

October is National Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Please, spread awareness and speak openly about the issue with those around you. Silence and fear, feed abuse and violence. Educate yourself and others around you, especially the youth and children in your life! Education and communication is the key to ending domestic violence. For more information about this issue please contact the websites:
National Coalition Against Domestic Violence
Need to find help or a shelter near you?

2:21 PM
2 Comments

Catalyst

adversity

Life is full of change. Change can be good and it can be hard, but inevitably it will happen. There are subtle life changes that happen over time such as aging or the process of learning a new talent. Then there is a ‘BAM’ change. A change so powerful that it could have only been initiated by a catalyst – an external influence great enough to induce a life-changing moment.

My life changing BAM catalyst was a head injury. Maybe that is why I describe it as a sound because that is what I heard when my head hit metal. Actually, it was a loud thud which vibrate through my head. I will never forget what it felt like to hear that noise from the inside of my skull.

It was April, 2004 and I was so excited to have found a pair of real snake-skin boots at the local thrift store, along with a pair of boots for each of my daughters, 8 years and 11 years. They had just started riding lessons at a nearby arena and needed them for the next day. I had bought all three pairs of boots for less than $30. I had experienced shopping success! I remember seeing my mother and baby daughter smiling at me from the waiting car. It was a rare and carefree, happy moment.

I decided to stop at a tree lot where my previous husband was boarding some horses he’d recently purchased. The horses were young and not ready for riding but the girls wanted to see them and help feed them.

We didn’t expect to ride that night. However, the man who owned the lot had just purchased an old rodeo horse for his grandchildren to ride. My oldest daughter rode the horse first. She was just sitting on the horse as it walked around the circular corral with the owner holding reins and leading them both. It all seemed so safe to me. When I approached the corral, the man asked if I would like to get on and go around a few times. I resisted at first and then the girls started encouraging me to try.

“Come on, mom! You can do it!” I did have my new second hand snakeskin boots in the car I thought and life had been so extremely stressful lately that the thought of doing something spontaneous and fun sounded so inviting. Next thing I know the reins were in my hand and I was on the horse as it walked around the corral. It felt like a simple kid's ride at the county fair. I never would have imagined the drama that would unfold in the next thirty minutes and how altered my life would be after my decision to get on that horse.

I had parked my car near the corral and positioned it so that my mother could care for the baby and still watch us all from inside the vehicle. I remember waving and smiling to her and the baby. My 8 year old daughter was anxious for a turn on the horse. She was watching from the outside of the fence and had climbed half-way up. She was smiling and shouting, “Can I get on? Can I have a turn?”

The owner of the horse helped her climb over the fence and lifted her onto the horse behind me, not on the saddle but on the rump. It didn't feel right to me. The few times that I had rode double, the extra person always sat in front of the person with the reins and behind the saddle horn. The man assured me that we would be fine and his grandchildren had been riding like that all day. I will always regret not listening to my intuition and inspiration as a mother and asserting myself. I gave in and we began riding around the circular corral.

Within 10 seconds the horse began bucking, kicking his legs up high into the air. I instinctively dropped the reins and reached one arm behind me and around my daughter trying to keep her on and away from the horse's stomping feet. I remember screaming for help and looking at the man directly in the eyes as he backed away from me. The horse bucked one or two times more before both she and I went off the front end. The top of my right forehead hit hard, and blunt on the metal corral bar on my way down. I landed partially on my daughter and was surprised at how quickly I jumped up and off her. I was so worried she was injured. The moment my feet hit the earth and I reached up to feel my head, my knees buckled and I was back down in the dirt again. Staring up at the dark sky and holding the large, grape-fruit sized hematoma that had already formed on my forehead, I knew then that I was in trouble.

My young daughters were hysterical and I was incredibly scared as I could feel my head swelling quickly under my hand. I remember asking them to pray with me. Someone was calling 911. We said a prayer then and again in the ambulance ride. I said a lot of prayers that night as I fought to stay conscious. I was so afraid that if I passed out, I wouldn't wake up again. I prayed for to God that he would keep me alive to raise my babies.

The swelling continued and was pushing down on my right eye and eyelid making it difficult to keep my eyes open. The pain on the back of my head (opposite of where I hit it) was so intense and sharp I though for sure I had cut my scalp open. There was no laceration. Later the doctors would tell me the pain I felt was from my brain hitting the back of my skull.

I remember holding hands with my daughter in the ambulance. I couldn't see her because we were both strapped to boards staring up. She was no longer crying. I was actually afraid she was going in shock because she was so quiet. I was assuring her that it would be OK and the paramedics had assessed that she didn't have any obvious injuries but would need to do some x-rays and further evaluation of her leg and hip to be sure that nothing was broken. I had peace knowing she would be fine. However, something told me that my life would be different and I was fearful to find out how.

My head injury was the catalyst that helped me to see how important it was for me to change my life. Up until the point of the horse accident, I realized that my children had mostly seen me sad or scared. When I did seem happy, it was forced and fake for the children. So, when I was lying on my back and staring at the dark sky on that spring night in horse corral. I thought to myself, if I die now my children will have never known me to be truly happy. That thought caused me to feel a deep sadness for my children. I wanted a chance to make that not be true and that is when I started to change my life.

10:03 PM
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Shelter

adversity

It was right before Valentine's Day, 2006 when I took my children to the Women and Children in Crisis Shelter. I hadn't planned on going that night, but I was pretty sure I would have to someday. I just didn't know when and then I received an unannounced visit from a concerned couple. They were the employers of my husband at the time. They had come from across the country to help me. I hardly knew them and I was humbled. I felt relieved that the secrets surrounding my life were finally being set free. It felt like they were unloading the crushing weight I had been silently carrying around for so long and it was an answer to my prayers.

I had spent months crying out to God for help. Often times it would be at night lying on my back staring at the ceiling in the dark. My prayer had turned into a mantra that I would silently speak in my mind or aloud when I was alone, "Just show me the way Lord! Please just show me how to leave with my children safely." It was so hard to have hope then. I was praying for that too. My fear and anxiety had increased over the year due to the increase of violence in my home. The man I was married to was increasingly making decisions and comments that were very strange and concerning. I felt more unsafe than ever. I often slept in my clothes with my cell phone and car keys in my pockets. I never knew when an implosion would occur and his actions were becoming more erratic. The cycle of abuse was becoming more frequent. So when this couple arrived (who were a very neutral, third-party) I felt stronger, more hopeful, and very scared.

For years and during this time, I taught elementary school and took my children with me. It was our safe haven. Being with all the children there and soaking in their light and love helped me each day to be able to return to the darkness that enveloped my home and my life there. I was a better mom at school, less stressed, and less preoccupied. My own children would come in my classroom for snacks at recess or to help me after school. They saw me at my best there; a leader, a strong and smart woman, a happy person. It was the opposite at home. My degree and career blessed my family financially, but mostly emotionally at that time.

Then at the end of each school day, we would have to drive home and face the realities of our life there. The contrast between light and darkness was stark and the void between the two becoming greater each day. I remember having to think multiple times about everything I said and did in order to try and avoid his anger and rage that would follow. I never could control his emotions, even though I tried and was always blamed for them. If an implosion occurred or not, it was a game of chance.

I hated it when my children heard or saw any of it. I wished more than a thousand times that I would be the only one hurt by his words and actions. I used to beg him to stop in front of the girls. It didn't stop him and my begging only made things worse. The worried and scared looks on their faces hurt me more than anything or anyone ever could. I couldn't stand it anymore. I blamed myself for their pain. I knew I had to do something to protect them. If I couldn't leave for myself, I needed to leave for them. I just didn't know how to safely do it.

Then my new friends came. I believed they were an answer to my prayers. The men went to dinner to discuss business while his wife slipped me away to a local bookstore and told me everything. I remember feeling scared of what he would do if he knew that I was with her. She had to reassure me that he wouldn't and didn't know we were together. Then I sat and listened and she spoke the truth about his secrets and their concern for my safety and why they came to help me. My first reaction was relief and validation. Everything I had intuitively known and suspected was true. In fact, much worse. First, I felt relief and even uttered out loud, "I'm not crazy!" I had known the truth all along and whenever I had mentioned it or asked questions, I was slammed with his rage. His response was always the same. That I was making it all up and that I was crazy! I had heard him say it so much that I had started to believe it myself and so the words of this woman grounded and validated me. Her concern for my safety and that of my girls increased my own concern because now I knew that the horror of it all was very real and not a figment of my imagination.

Then the fear gripped me. I immediately became overwhelmed with thoughts of how angry he would become when he found out that I knew. Until now, his secrets had been controlled and contained. However, the less control he had of his life, the more he tried to control mine. The knowledge I had just received could ignite a bomb at home. I knew that the time had finally come. It was time to leave for the last time.

A year earlier my sister had given me a card. It was a contact number for The Women and Children in Crisis Center in our county. She didn't say much. Just that she heard a seminar on Domestic Violence and they listed warning signs that identify a DV relationship. She handed it to me and said, "You need this." Deep inside I must have realized that too because I hid it under the liner of my purse which I took everywhere. I pulled out the card that night and made the phone call.

I told the young girl on the crisis phone line my situation. I explained that I had three daughters and that I was fearful of my husband and what he would do to me now that I knew his secrets. I told her that I had people helping me. She told me to come as soon as possible and gave me an address of a location within a mile from the shelter. She instructed me to call her when I got there. She would give me the exact location but not until I was nearby and alone with just my girls.

After my first phone call, everything became a blur. I threw belongings for each of us into bags. We had so little time. The girls were a little confused because I couldn't tell them much, but they were very cooperative. The older two knew what inevitably could happen and they also trusted the help we were now receiving. I know they were grateful for it too.

An overnight was quickly cancelled. School books scooped up. More clothes and blankets thrown in bags. I grabbed a binder of papers and personal documents and then just like that we were gone. Gone from our home that had turned into a place of anger, sadness, and fear. I had tried so hard and for so long to make it something different than what it had become until I realized I could never control his anger. After that gradual realization, I had lived for almost a year waiting for the opportunity to leave and provide a happy safe life for my daughters. We had been finally blessed with the opportunity to leave safely. We left and never looked back.

I drove to the grocery store parking lot and again called the young volunteer as she had instructed earlier. I needed to know exactly how to get to the shelter now and the clock was ticking. I was anxious and checking the mirrors expecting him to show up any minute enraged by my actions.

She gave me the instructions and said I needed to follow them quickly. I hung up the phone. It was silent and dark and the girls and I were alone for the first time that night. It was like time stood still for just a moment before one of them spoke. "Mom, what's going to happen next?" I realized that I didn't know the answer to that question. The fear we felt was different now but it wasn't as scary. It was the fear of the unknown mixed with more hope. What I did know is that things would be better and we would be helped and so I said, "Honey, I don't know for sure. What I do know is that we are all going to get the help that we need and we will have a place to stay that is safe. We are going to be OK". Then I drove the short distance to the shelter. We were there in two minutes.

That night we knelt around the assortment of beds in the room we were assigned. I was so grateful we had a private room that night and that we didn't need to share with strangers. We said family prayer together and we gave thanks. Our prayer was short and we were exhausted. The girls quickly fell asleep. I turned my phone off after calling my parents and letting them know that I was safe and in a safe place with the children. I had started receiving his threatening texts and phone calls and knew that they would go on throughout the night. So, I turned the phone off - the only existing connection I still had to him. I took out the battery, and packed it all away. Even though I was exhausted, I felt a little stronger knowing that I would never have look or listen to a threat again. I was done. It was over.

I would never be going back to that life again. I felt relief for the first time in years but I was also aware that I would have to battle hard to rebuild my life and find myself again. I had been on a train headed for a cliff begging for it to stop for many years, when all along I could never control it or ever stop it. When that realization was finally clear to me, and before the train plunged over the cliff and our lives were all destroyed, I jumped safely with my daughters into the unknown.

I could hear the girls quietly sleeping. Their rhythmic breathing around me and it was soothing. For the first time I could feel myself relaxing and tears filled my eyes and spilled out onto my pillow as I laid on my back praying in the dark, "Thank you for the shelter, Lord. Thank you for my friends. Please keep showing me the way and please, please give me the strength to follow it."

9:17 PM
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Journeys

A Chance to Say "I Love You", Again

Thirst

Every time I felt thirsty, I was reminded of this and so constantly I was recommitting myself to moving forward with this change. If I felt weak I would eventually soon feel thirsty and then be reminded again. This process helped to strengthen me.

Help

How to help a friend or family member who is living with Domestic Violence.

Here is a list of 5 ways my friends and family gave me support and help during those difficult years:

Be Patient

Speak The Truth Without Telling Her What to Do

Be Observant and Help Her Document

Help Her Make a Plan

Continue Giving Support, Love, and Encouragement

Catalyst

Shelter

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