To all the Moms who thought they didn’t do enough, or didn’t get it right, or weren’t sure what they were doing while the lives of their children hung in the balance at their most pivotal moments . . . The “link” [below] written by Rachel Marie Martin, is for you! [Note to My Readers at the end.]
I actually cried when I read that article because it was me during my divorce, when he’d kick me down again and again and again . . . all I was trying to do was to get out of a bad marriage! All he had to do was agree to a divorce; it wasn’t a difficult request.
Instead, because he was hurt; because he was broken; because he was angry I wanted to leave . . . he did everything in his power to break me down, over and over and over again, but I kept going. For my own sanity, I had to escape!
The day prior to my planning to leave, I stopped at the Women’s Crisis Center in town. I knew of their services as I’d donated product from my shop for their fund-raising events. The elevator doors opened upon their Reception Area (I just kinda’ had to chuckle; they knew women all too well: No long corridor to walk down . . . No door to contemplate opening . . . Nope. I’d arrived!)
When no one immediately appeared, I started checking out their office décor [something I tend to notice on a regular basis] as I’d gone to school for interior design prior to purchasing my shop. Their décor emulated the early morning grayness of the day. I wasn’t certain they were even open as the lights weren’t on, and yet . . . . the elevator doors opened and the smell of freshly brewed coffee was wafting through the air. As I stood in their darkened Reception Area feeling totally alone and isolated from the outside world, a zillion thoughts coursing through my brain . . .
‘What if he ever finds out you’ve been here . . . .’
[‘That’s part of the reason you are here’],
‘You haven’t been abused; you live in a nice middle-class home, have wonderful children, own a flower shop in town . . .’
‘Why are you here?”
All those thoughts zipping through my mind and my only answer at that moment was, ‘because something isn’t right, the way he makes me wants to walk away from all that I’ve got, to leave with only the clothes on my back; to escape his clutches’ . . .
I’d convinced myself I was in the wrong place; that I was being silly, perhaps “overreacting” as my husband would say; that the Women’s Crisis Center was for abused women, not for women like myself who had everything described above, things many women would be grateful to have; and just as I had decided I should leave before anyone saw me . . . .
I’d been so lost in my own thoughts, I hadn’t noticed someone had come out of the back room, was standing next to me, asking how she could help me. Not a single word came out; only tears. She reached out, enveloping me within her arms.
I followed her down a long corridor to her office; she handed me a box of tissues, asked if I wanted coffee/tea? “No, nothing, thank you.”, then said she’d be back in a few moments. I dried my tears, blew my nose, then glanced at the items in her office. On the corner table next to me was a small can with the words “I CAN” in big, bold letters. It reminded me of my youngest child’s storybook, “The Little Engine That Could” [by Watty Piper].
Upon her return, as she settled into her chair preparing her coffee, asked what brought me to their office? I was so flustered, I really didn’t know where to start, nor even where I did start, but it eventually led me to the fact my husband had been treating me like a child, like I could never do anything right. I could clean the entire house and he’d come home and ask, “Why didn’t you do the wash today?” He never ‘saw’ all that had been done!
The Counselor said: “You’re being Abused. Emotionally.” She explained that emotional abuse can go undetected for years as there are no outward physical signs. However, it erodes you from the inside out.
Well, that was informative; I knew what I had to do. I never returned to their office; what I took with me that day were the words, “I CAN!” and the spirit of “The Little Engine That Could”, and I carried them with me throughout the longest, most vindictive divorce trial my Lawyer had ever seen in all her years as Divorce Lawyer.
My ex-husband did a lot of bad to me when I filed for divorce. All he had to do was agree to a Divorce. Instead, He did things to ensure I lost Legal Custody of my children [for two years].
He made it “appear” I was selling drugs from my shop; he made it “appear” I was an alcoholic which forced me to be randomly drug/alcohol tested with counseling sessions. Then he hired private investigators to “watch” my shop, but never “enter” it. Meanwhile, everyone in that neighborhood knew the guy who lived upstairs from my shop was selling drugs. And he hired a man to become a new client of mine, who then wanted to take me out to dinner & drinks, asked me to help him bring balloons to sick children at the local hospital, then testified against me in court; and he made it “appear” as though I’d stolen my children’s money. [Long story-short here: He’d been frantically searching for something in the Pantry. He finally asked where the kids Bank Books were? I showed him. A few weeks passed; he was back in the Pantry. Same scenario, only this time, the books were missing. We discussed the matter and concluded I’d go to the bank Monday morning, explain the situation and open new accounts, which I did.] He then went to the bank with the old books and brought those books to Court and said I’d stolen their money. He was so conniving, so vindictive. . . he had my own Mother convinced I actually did all those horrible things.
I kept going! I CAN!
During the divorce proceedings, I was forced to close my shop; he wanted half. My lawyer advised me to close it; he’d get half of nothing. I went to work for another shop in town, but she couldn’t give me enough hours to pay my bills.
Mid-divorce, I switched lawyers; he advised me to get divorced first, then go back later for the change in custody, after I had a job and a home for the children; told me to get my eggs lined up. I fell back upon my secretarial skills, however, computers had come of age while I was busy raising children. I worked temporary positions during the day and went to school nights to learn basic computer applications. A year later I graduated with Honors. With the sale of the marital house, I bought a small 3-bedroom home.
It had been two years since I filed for divorce and a year since it had been finalized. With “all the eggs in the basket”, I filed for a Change in Custody, from Sole Legal to Joint Legal with the kids living in my home as he wasn’t taking care of them properly.
The only place I had legal anything, was within the school system, and that had been ordered by the Court during the Divorce. I utilized that power to its fullest potential. Chatting with the Social Workers and Guidance Counselors, I kept them apprised of the BS happening during the divorce proceedings, every step of the way. We ended up in Family Services. When he refused to budge an inch, insisting that nothing had changed since the initial days of the divorce, the Court ordered an intensive Child Custody Study.
Then, the unthinkable happened. Under my ex’s sole legal custody watch, my children were targeted by predators.
Thankfully, one child remembered exactly what I had trained them to do if that nightmare scenario ever presented itself. Another child was smart enough to casually mention chatting with an online “friend” who was planning to take them to a concert. Recognizing the immediate danger, I printed out the entire chat history and handed a copy straight to Family Services. Even with the physical evidence in front of him, my ex aggressively insisted that I had made the whole thing up.
After three months of extensive interviews by Family Services personnel, as well as visits in both our homes while the children were onsite, the Child Custody Study was finalized and had been released to all concerned parties. Three days after its release, my Lawyer called to inform me my Ex had just given up fighting for the kids, which to me was weird because he did everything in his power to retain Sole Legal Custody of those children, and what . . . now he’s just giving up? Sure, the Child Custody Study’s Report stated I was a better once a week and every other weekend Mom than he was a full-time, full custody Dad, but why now?
I kept going . . . . “I CAN!“
The children had been on Summer Visitation with me when the phone call from my Lawyer arrived. They were able to stay permanently; we gathered their belongings from their father’s place.
Finally, they were settling nicely into my home, neighborhood, and their new schools. They made friends quickly and joined some school activities as well.
I had so little time left, to teach them what they needed to know in order to make their own way in the world. They were early teens back then; we discussed issues frankly.
When my youngest wanted to hang out on street corners at night, I said, “No!”
“Why not?”
“Because when kids hang out on street corners at night, they tend to get in trouble.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I hung out on street corners at night.”
“Well, just because you got in trouble, doesn’t mean I’m going to get in trouble.”
“Oh really? Who gets in trouble quicker? Boys or girls?”
“Okay. Okay, I get your point!”
“Good! No street corners for you at night. Besides, now-a-days, parents are responsible for the damage their mischievous children do. You know I’m barely making ends meet now; I can’t afford to pay for anything you and your buddies might think “at the moment” was cool to vandalize.”
A couple of weeks passed and the neighborhood awoke to a neighbor’s white limousine’s headlights and side panels spray painted in bright RED. Uh oh! When my son saw it and mentioned it at home that evening . . . I said, “See? I’ll bet those are the same kids you wanted to hang out on the street corner with a few weeks ago.” He agreed with me. A few more days passed; not only did his buddies’ folks have to pay for the damages, but all his buddies who were involved in that incident ended up with Police Records.
A couple of weeks passed and the neighborhood awoke to a neighbor’s White limousine’s headlights & side panels spray painted in bright Red. ‘Uh oh!’ When my son saw it and mentioned it at home that evening . . . I said, “See? I’ll bet those are the same kids you wanted to hang out on the street corner with a few weeks ago.” He agreed with me. A few more days passed; not only did his buddies’ folks have to pay for the damages, but all his buddies who were involved in that incident ended up with Police Records as Juvies.
So little time . . . .
From that day on, each new mischievous happening in the neighborhood, he thanked me for not letting him out at night. Wow!
It’s been a lifetime since the day I visited that Women’s Crisis Center.
I kept going! I CAN!
A Note to My Readers:
. . . . who are fighting their own battles right now; I know the heaviness, the aloneness during your darkest days and nights. You need to find that one specific thing that might mean absolutely nothing to anyone else, but means everything to your current situation. Something to cherish that keeps you moving forward when all you want to do is give up!
It reminds me of a Thanksgiving Day years ago . . . .
It had truly been a horrific week. Just two days before the holiday, I crashed my new-to-me used car. The old car had died on the side of the road on my way to court that fateful, devastating day I lost sole legal custody of my children. Because of the endless days trapped in that courtroom, I lost my job too. To say it was a bad week was a gross understatement.
On Thanksgiving Day, as I sat alone in the kitchen of my tiny pink trailer, staring at the wreckage of my life:
No CHILDREN. No CAR. No JOB.
I wondered what on Earth I could possibly be Thankful for, when suddenly, a thought popped into my head . . . a message from God:
“My child, you are no longer being abused.”
Thank you Lord, for reminding me,
“There is always something to be thankful for.”
While telling this story to someone recently, they said,
“There is a woman sitting in her car at this very moment (reading your story) trying to decide whether to file those papers, or not.”
If that woman is You: File the paperwork! Find your “I CAN” and hold onto it through all the days you just want to throw in the towel and completely give up! Keep moving forward, piece by piece, open your heart, your mind, to receive that quiet whisper . . . . because Your Children—and Your Freedom—are waiting for you on the Other Side of the Storm!
~ End ~
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