When I started this blog, I was an open book. I told it ALL, and it felt wonderful to unload. Will desperately wanted me to shut up, to forget about it, to stop telling “lies”. I knew I couldn’t stop telling my truth. Spilling those secrets was the best thing I ever did for myself because
An article in Time reports that “women who said they were abused, 54% characterized their partners as very reliable, and 21% said that their partners had many positive characteristics.” There is so much to learn about abusive relationships. I’m not surprised by the findings. For some reason, I want to believe Will is reliable, when
A facebook friend posted this quote: “Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be.” Good advice. But I think my wishbone is coming back. Or maybe it just never left. I think I am foolish for wishing what I wish. My wish is the same as the day I started this blog:
I am SO HAPPY to have my boys with me right now. Will is “primary” parent right now, but he allowed me to bring the boys home with me last night and they will stay with me through Sunday. Will swears we’ll do the same cycle over again until we get back into court on
I hope God’s absence in my heart means that he’s present with Eddie and Marc. I hope God curled up in bed beside Eddie tonight to whisper my I love yous.
The residue from my abusive relationship clogs my brain neurons like smoke and nicotine residue clogs electronics. Enough smoke and the greasy nicotine will kill a computer, a server…enough abusive residue can kill my brain function. I’ve got to clean the residue from my brain so I can start fresh. My most limiting belief is
I experienced these small instances of happiness, but then I quickly let them fade as I chose to tend to the pain, confusion, and sense of merely living through the day. Maybe now, because I know the pain is constantly ready to surface, I am more willing to let the good feelings wash over and…
I’m not prepared to negotiate in private with my abusive ex for custody of our children. The judge will have to decide. This may have a bad end.
Victim or survivor? There has to be a different word for what I have experienced and what is to come. I don’t feel like repeating the word “victim” to myself or portraying myself as such. I am a “survivor” of abuse; however, the word survivor brings to my mind those who have been seriously and
I saw Will today. He looks good. Softer. I caught him glance at me sidelong and I wondered what he was thinking. Will gave Marc a bag to put in the trunk of my car. It is going to stay there, unopened. Marc relayed that his dad didn’t have room for whatever is in the bag, and
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