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Healing from Domestic Abuse & Violence: Will I Survive This?

Will I Survive This?

Healing from Domestic Abuse & Violence: Will I Survive This?Will I survive this? That question headed the discussion at a yahoo group. I wanted to answer it with a positive note, but I couldn’t. I am wondering the same thing.

The pain and agony, heart-wrenching gut-churning sadness that I am experiencing is worse than any I’ve felt before. It’s worse than when my grandfathers died, worse than when my dad died. It’s worse than when I lost those babies in miscarriages, worse than when I suspected that Will cheated on me. It’s worse than when we left Texas for the Army. It’s worse than the nightmares I used to have about my children dying.

It’s worse.

Every minute of every day feels like a do or die choice.

  • Do I go to the Women’s Center and sign up for classes? (yes.)
  • Do I wear sneakers or boots? (sneakers.)
  • Do I get into the car or run back into the house? (car.)
  • Do I listen to rock or AM radio? (rock.)
  • Do I keep driving or do I pull over and cry? (keep driving.)
  • Do I ask to see that one lady and then collapse into tears in her office? (no.)
  • Do I pay $30 for this class or just forget it altogether? (pay.)
  • Do I keep on deciding or stop thinking? (decide.)
  • Do I let the tears flow or hold them back? (no choice. they flow.)

I miss the times Will was deployed because I could imagine that we were happy and pretend that everything would work out. I had peace and calm and security.

Now I have no peace or security.

It takes every ounce of energy to think, to decide, to move, to breathe. At night, I am exhausted but cannot fall asleep. I occupy my mind with thoughts of Eddie falling asleep in the next room, so close, still here, so strong, so trusting. I envision tomorrow being brighter, my breath coming automatically without having to remember to inhale.

Tonight, I’ll remember taking Eddie to shop for snacks and working in the front yard with him under the hazy sky. I’ll wonder what is going on with Marc, wonder how he can text me with happy news but stare at me with blank eyes and a smirk. I’ll tell myself to be patient, that there will be brighter days, and force my thoughts back to Eddie, by now sleeping soundly in the other room.

I’ll decide to hold back the tears that seemingly serve no purpose and instead visualize a happier time, away from now and this soul-less blackness that surrounds me.

In the morning, will I get out of bed or sleep and pretend this isn’t happening? (get out of bed.)

You can read more of this story in My Abusive Marriage: …and what happened when i left it by Kellie Jo Holly.