It's Hard to Dance With a Devil On Your Back.

I am not a static character.

Sometimes I'm so completely at peace with who I am, where I'm at in life and the choices I've made. Sometimes I can look back at the things that happened during my marriage and focus on the lessons I learned and the strength I gained from it all.

On really good days, I can focus simply on the good times so I can be grateful that they happened at all.

Other days, I'm just so sad. Overwhelmingly sad.

Have you ever seen someone survive something and be in complete awe that they made it through?

Because that's what I feel when I look back.

A little more than two years ago my grandmother passed away.

Two days later The Husband asked for a divorce. I cried.

And then The Husband left bruises all over D again and I was finally forced to make a final choice between being with him and possibly never seeing D again and putting myself at risk for losing A and H, or having the police remove him, putting an order of protection in place and starting our lives over.

The day I called the police and fled to my mom's until the order was finalized, D's mom took Destiny and filed for mine and The Husband's removal of guardianship. It took much pleading to have D returned to me until our court hearing.

Soon after we were able to move home, The Husband began a series of such escalating intimidation behaviors that his best friend came to stay with us for a couple of weeks to keep us safe. I got to know many members of the police force quite well. CPS case workers, Guardian ad Litems and child abuse investigators were a constant presence in my home. During that short time, The Husband had my car repossessed and I received notice that I would be losing my home in as soon as sixty days. (Luckily it ended up being ten months instead of two, but I didn't know it at the time.)

When The Husband's friend left, I kept our beloved dog by my side as my constant companion and protector. A few weeks later, she had a sudden and massive seizure. Since I had walked out of the marriage with forty dollars in my pocket, I had no way of saving Duchess. By the next morning she was brain dead, and my neighbors and friends chipped in so I could have her put to sleep. She died in my arms.

The first month alone was eventful to say the least.

Two months after I left The Husband, my dad passed away after a nine year long battle with cancer. I had court the day he died, the day of his funeral and the day after his funeral. At court I learned that I would keep guardianship of D and The Husband would lose his rights and his ability to have contact with her until her 18th birthday. I also learned that she would no longer be living with me once the school year was over. The beautiful little girl who I had raised from seventeen months until she was nine years, three months and twenty four days old would be gone.

In two months, I had lost nearly everything that my adult life had revolved around.

I don't remember much of how I felt then. I remember a few nights where I would wait for the girls to finally fall asleep so I could sit out on the back porch swing and sob until I couldn't breathe.

But mostly I remember numbness.

I walked out of my father's funeral after I was publicly reminded what a small part I had played in my father's life.

Instead of going to his wake, I dropped my girls off and went to court instead so I could plead for temporary orders for child support. We had been left with nothing but past due water and electricity bills that a friend stepped in and paid.

Friends from all over flooded my mailbox with cards and small tokens of love. Many days, those cards were the only reason I could get myself dressed and out of the house. They are all displayed proudly no matter where I live.

People that I'd never met contacted me wanting to know how they could help. Many were friends of The Husband and wanted to secretly do whatever they could for me. They were a wealth of resources. It was because of them that domestic violence shelters helped me complete my legal papers and gave me coaching lessons on how to represent myself in court. They helped me pay for my heart medications. They helped me find a pro bono lawyer for the final trial. They bought me cleaning supplies, toiletries and anything else I was struggling to provide.

I had so many unexpected people cheering me on that quitting or being weak wasn't an option.

I walked through every bit of hell that came my way that year.

I survived.



A little more than two years after it all began/ended and I am ticking off my "Moving Forward" checklist one at a time. The next step is to purchase my own home for the girls and I. Once investors stop poaching the houses I bid on, we'll be moving the moment the title company can close. A new chapter will begin.

But I am not a static character.

I still get angry, I still get sad, I still get gleefully happy whenever I look around and take notice of my freedom. All of that's okay. I'm allowed to feel a range of emotions when I look back at the last ten years.

For the first time in my life, I realize that it's okay to be human. That no one can tell me how I ought to feel about anything. I'm allowed to have differing opinions. I'm allowed to stand up for myself. I'm allowed to express hurt, anger and betrayal. I'm allowed to ask tough questions. I'm allowed to choose who I bring closer and who I keep at a distance. I'm allowed to protect my daughters when I feel they're in danger, regardless of where that danger may be coming from. I no longer have to feel numb in order to survive.

No one has control and no one ever will again.

I need to remember that I've achieved the most important goal of all.

I'm free.