In layers (continued)

The first layer of healing in my story came as forgiveness, but there are many parts to that. I had to first realize that it wasn't my fault. I didn't cause this, I didn't make him treat me that way. I didn't do anything wrong. I felt awful for putting my girls through that for so long and I had a lot of guilt in that.

Let me back up and tell a few details about the night everything change. (Be warned...I an telling the entire story and it's not pretty. If it offends you, sorry/not sorry, don't keep reading. There are women out there who need to know they are not alone.) I came home after work, and according to the ex I was missing time. The way he figured I should have been home an hour earlier, and he was accusing me of being with someone else. That was the farthest thing from the truth, but he wasn't even going to discuss it. He was sure, and there was no convincing him otherwise. The argument reeled out of control, even to the point of him accusing me of always being a cheater and saying that he didn't even think Abigail was his child. Most times we argued, I would fight toe to toe with him, but something in me (THE HOLY GHOST!) told me to keep my mouth shut. (And honestly that probably saved my life that night) Anyways, the discussion spiraled out of control for hours, to the point that he pushed me out the front door, out onto the walkway (so the girls couldn't see) where he punched me across my face. He also held me with one arm across my chest against the brick wall of the house, while he strangled me with the other hand.  He didn't let go for what seemed like forever. I believed I was going to die that night. I thought that was the end, and my children would be left with THIS as a parent. Once he finally let go, he went back into the house and refused to allow me back in. I had no shoes, no coat, no phone, no keys, no purse, nothing.  I walked down to my parent's house a blubbering mess. I had no idea what to do next, I knew he was so angry, and that completely scared me to death. I wasn't thinking at all about what had just happened, I was more afraid of what was next.  Our entire 12 year marriage, he had also threatened me that if I ever did anything "wrong", he would take the girls and disappear where I would never see them again. He had me convinced that he could and would do it.  So at this point I had no idea what to do next...I did know that I had to get us away from him, but I had no idea how.  I was so ashamed for letting him treat us that way. I was embarrassed to ask anyone for help. I was worried what the girls would think. Would they be mad at me for taking them away from their daddy? Would they cry? Would they even believe me? Would they even care?  Would they blame me? Would they even want to go with me? What had he told them after he kicked me out of the house?

In the middle of the night, I had to call the police and then go to the magistrate's office to file a domestic abuse complaint. Having to tell my story that many times in one night was the hardest thing I had ever done. I was beyond broken. I was at the lowest of lows. Having to tell people what an idiot I was for allowing it, and exposing my children to it. Once the police came and took him away, then and only then could I go back into the house to get my babies. I didn't know if they would keep him in jail, or what to expect next, all I knew was I was scared for my life.  I knew that if he got another chance, he would kill me. I believed that with every fiber of my being.  I was headed into that house just long enough to get the girls, pack a bag for each of us, and then run!  I was so scared to tell them we had to go, I had no idea how they would respond. But I will never forget this as long as I live....I tapped Tyler on the shoulder (she was 11 at the time) and simply said "tyler we have to go", she looked up at me with her big blue eyes and just said "ok mommy". I could see it in her face, she knew and she was on my side. They all knew, they all understood, and they were all scared too.

I thought I could never forgive myself for putting them in harm's way. My main job as a mom was to protect them, and I had let fear keep me from doing just that. The first step of forgiveness was to forgive myself. To see that I wasn't the monster, I didn't allow this, I didn't choose this.  I had to forgive myself, before I could even think of forgiving him or God. Understand, this didn't happen all in a moment, I had to tell myself over and over, and hear other people tell me over and over, that it wasn't my fault.

The next step of forgiveness, another day.....