Starting At The End

I will never be able to explain how it felt,
That feeling that told me he wanted to kill me.

It started more subtly than that,
After I told him we needed to separate.
It was more of a gnawing feeling in my stomach
And an angels whisper in my heart
That said, "Be careful, he might harm you."

It was just a feeling,
But I didn't know what to do with it.
Lock my doors,
Look over my shoulder,
Sleep with my phone next to my pillow?
What else was I supposed to do?

Every noise outside, especially at night
Sent me into a frozen fear.
I can't explain it.
A fear that filled my whole body
And made it difficult to move.

I look back and see that these were my greatest moments of bravery.  I look back and see that although I felt completely and utterly alone, God was with me.

My friends and family encouraged me to call Domestic Violence Service.
I felt I didn't belong there,
like what I had experienced wasn't really abuse.
DVS was for women who'd experienced much more than me, so I thought.
But there was no question, two of my best friends made me call
And waited in the other room until I'd made an appointment.

"I don't know if DVS is for me..." I told Mrs. D (name whitheld). Little did I know how well I'd get to know this earthly angel.  She listened as I told her about my experiences, most of them not physical.  She assured me that these were abusive situations and that DVS could help.  I set my appointment.

At my appointment I reiterated (as I had done with counselors and friends and family) what my experiences were, saying I didn't know if DVS was really the right place for me.  I was assured that it was, that what I had experienced was abusive.  One thing I've learned is victims of abuse commonly don't consider themselves as such.  I definitely did not, but with support and education about what had been happening to me, I began to understand. I was warned that now that I was deciding to make this separation permanent, that I should be careful.  Separation from an abuser can become very dangerous.  I didn't believe it, yet somewhere deep inside of me, a place I didn't want to acknowledge, I knew it was.

This feeling inside me grew as the divorce process went on.
Grew and grew and grew.

I was afraid that he would shoot me.

I was afraid he’d break in, and I’d be standing there,

Or running, or hiding in the bathroom with my children

And then he’d shoot.

First me, then himself.

And then something happened I am not at liberty to explain,
But it became clear that my life really was in immenent danger and I had to leave my home.

The Women's Shelter...
Again, somehow I believed that my experiences weren't severe enough to be welcomed there.  When I told them my circumstances, I was quickly welcomed in. A few days later an advocate told me that my spouse had all the classic red flags for a homicide, suicide, and that I was top priority on the list.  Hearing that was so validating, when I felt that maybe I could squeek in, maybe I could convince someone that I really wasn't safe.  Not only were they convinced that I might be in danger, at least one was convinced my life was at risk.  It was so nice to be believed.

The shelter is such a mix of memories and emotions for me, both good and bad.

The shelter saved my life and was filled with workers who knew the patterns of feelings I was experiencing. I felt validated, and supported. They made the shelter feel as much like a home as possible.  For that I will always be grateful.  That is what I needed for my children.  Something that seemed like a home. And it was. But it also smelled of smoke, and was filled with strangers, and the feeling of oppression. Every room in the shelter was full.

I told my children we were on an adventure…

But they knew something wasn’t right.

They knew that mommy may not be safe if daddy knew where I was sleeping.

I was careful that they never heard me talk negatively of their father,

But when it came down to mommy's life, they had to know not to tell him where I was when they went on their court ordered supervised visits.

I  remember when I'd be out and about during the day

Driving around the town, going anywhere but home or anywhere nearby

In case he was watching for me.

In case he was trying to find me and end my life.

I remember driving down the road when the song "Titanium" came on.
Before I went to the shelter I didn't even like that song.
The pulsing noise hurt my ears, and I always changed the channel.
But this time I felt the song pulse through my numb body.

My eyes wide and distant
My lips singing the words "bang bang, fire away"
And wondering... wondering if it would happen.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLuZl-0Pjuo

Soon I'll share some stories from the beautiful people I met in the shelter. All names changed. And before I end this post I want to express that even in my darkest hour, I KNOW I was being led by God. My days in the shelter were the darkest of days, but God used them to create something beautiful in me.

These things are actually really hard for me to share. I have a bit of a sick feeling in my stomach. But for some reason I feel God moving me to tell my story, so without understanding all the reasons, I am going to stumble through recording my journey from sorrow to joy. And in light of the title, "Starting at the end" here are two quotes that helped me know this time in my life was not really the end, but the beginning of something wonderful:

Good night wonderful woman. You are loved.