November 20, 2019. The day of my freedom.
I didn’t understand it. None of it made sense at the time. But I had become a prisoner. Here’s what happened.
My now ex-husband started having psychotic episodes. He became dangerous. He threatened murder of various people, including a very good friend of mine. He threatened suicide numerous times, up to twice a day. It became a joke. “Sure. Go kill yourself.” He was upset I wasn’t taking him seriously. Well, after years of threats and no carry through, would you? It was all an act.
I’m not going to dwell on the past, and I’m certainly not going to regret anything. If I hadn’t married him, I wouldn’t have my son. I can regret no action which led to that.
My God kept telling me to leave the marriage. I didn’t understand. My God didn’t like divorce. Oh sure, He allowed it. (Deuteronomy 24:1-visit this link for more explanation) But it wasn’t something He necessarily urged a person to do… Was it?
My friends kept telling me to leave. Some wanted to stay out of it, but more and more said to go. They saw what I didn’t. It was destroying me. They called him abusive, and while yes, I was abused, I don’t blame him. He was, and still is, mentally ill. This is not his fault. But just because it’s not his fault doesn’t mean I stick around for it. Besides, my God was leading me elsewhere, and as confused as I was, I followed with pure faith.
Then one day, my ex was his worst. I called my father, a man I had taken in years ago. I told him to take off for a few days. Told him why. Told my kid to have a safe place to go if he needed to.
He needed to.
The cops took my ex away. He was later committed. My son had run off to his safe place. I was alone. Completely. Alone. I texted, e-mailed, and called every friend I could. I exhausted them all. This continued for several days. I was in anguish.
See, my ex had convinced me it was all my fault. He had drained our budget on these guilt trips, filling the house with toys. I let him. I felt responsible. Afterall, it was all my fault. I finally convinced my son to return home. I would not allow my ex in the house as long as he was there. My then father also returned and asked, “What’s to stop him from pulling a gun on you or (your son)?” We hugged. I told him how much it all hurt me. I thought he was being reasonable, that he was on my side, you know, his daughter’s side. That he was going to support me in all this. I was wrong.
Next thing I know, my then father turned on me. My then brother, who had helped convince me a separation was in order, also turned on me. Even though my ex pulled a gun on our kid, even though I was literally afraid for my life two times in one week, that wasn’t enough for a separation in their eyes. Not a divorce, a separation. I asked my then father what was wrong. He was upset I was getting a divorce. I never asked for a divorce. Oh, OK, well all forgiven then. You’re my daughter again. My then brother, on the other hand said, and I quote, “Well I support (your ex) in this because he’s family.” I’ll let that sink in for you…
I never got along with him anyway, so it was no weight on my shoulders to walk away.
Then I had a chat with my then father. He believed everything my ex said, and potentially took it the wrong way I don’t know who said what anymore, nor do I care. He didn’t believe a word I told him. His own daughter. Over a man recently arrested and committed. I didn’t kick him out per se, but I said him or me. He wanted to stay, so he bought my property off of me, and me and my son moved out.
God was with us the whole time. Had a house waiting for us, just under what I got for my property. My son suddenly became a new person. He was no longer terrified. He no longer wanted to move out. I didn’t understand his fear at the time. I went to a court-mandated class recently, where I discovered something.
These two pictures explain 15 types of domestic abuse. At the time, I checked off 9 of them. In looking again, I should have checked off 10. My friends had been asking me what was wrong for months. They had told me to escape. My God had told me to escape. I didn’t understand. I had become accustomed to it. Conditioned.
Once I realized just how bad I wanted out, I knew they had all been right, that I had never misunderstood my God. I had just let my upbringing and insecurity cloud my judgement. When I saw my son (and myself) leave half our crap behind, just so we didn’t have to go back into that house, I knew it was the right decision to leave. When I didn’t even glance at my bank account and just ran with what I had, when I was willing to walk from my blood relatives without ever looking back, when every friend who hadn’t butted into my business found out we were splitting told me how they felt about it and were glad I was now safe, I knew I had made the right decision. In fact, I recently talked with a professor I had last semester, a professor who had some insight of what was going on. I told her what I had done with more detail than I’m telling you (I don’t want to come across as too nasty 😉 lol). She gave me a big hug and told me how proud she was of me.
So, dear reader, if someone is warning you about something you don’t see, think about it. If several people are warning you, really look into it. And if God is telling you to do something you don’t understand, pray, listen, and trust Him. But above all, don’t look back. It’s not worth the money. It’s not worth the relationships and “family” who will only “love” you if you make the decisions they want you to.