You'll Never See Your Children Again

If you, like me, have survived abuse and now are struggling, today's post will be my version of Tough Love. That's my goal, anyhow. My theory, based on the scientific study of my experience, is that when we're at our low times we start to bargain with our past and idealize the stories, and yearn for something we shouldn't ever want to go back to. That's why we need to tell the truth to ourselves in black and white. Not the watered-down version you told your concerned friends and family, or the complete denial that anything was wrong that you kept telling yourself. The. Truth. So here goes ...

In my first post on this blog, Now What?, I touched on times when I've questioned if I should have stayed in my former life and put up with the abuse so that I could have more time with my children. Prior to freeing myself from that situation and starting my new life, I was a stay-at-home mom of 4 who also homeschooled. We were together every day, all day long. It was my whole life, and I loved that part of it. I often cry myself to work wishing I had more time with them, because I'm acutely aware that my time is limited ... they grow up rapidly. I add up the time I'm missing with them and allow that to burden me with guilt and pain. And to be honest ... my time with my children fulfilled me in ways that nothing else has since. 

Last night I was at a school function for one of my children and had to be in close proximity to my ex and The Wolf. (Check out my first post, Now What?,  for who The Wolf is!) I mentally prepared myself, and still ended up struggling quite a bit. My ex is a classic narcissistic abuser in his own right, but The Wolf is so skilled at it that she could write the manual on it. And together? They're a match made in a very hot place, and they exponentially enhance each other's worst qualities. 

So, naturally, I questioned everything about everything half the night and most of the morning. Because isn't that what we end up doing as survivors of this kind of abuse? It's insidious and makes me furious because they get to keep hurting us even after the active abuse has stopped. That's what has spurred this first The Truth post. 

I was ... 27? 28? We had 2 children at the time, a toddler and a baby. My ex had started the narcissistic abuse even before we were married. The controlling nature of our relationship was alarming even by this point. He had moved us out to the middle of nowhere to live next door to his father and his wife, who monitored my every activity. We had one car and I was never allowed to use it. I couldn't leave the house without him or an adult male, so my father - sensing this was very wrong - would drive 50 miles one way to take me to "doctor's appointments" so I could get out of the house once in awhile. But mostly I was just trapped - no playground trips, no mother's groups, no social life, nothing. I would beg to drive him to work so I could have the car for the day, but he refused. 

It might not come as a surprise to you that we were starting to argue. I hated the way I was trapped in what felt like a prison, and he hated that I had an opinion about it. One particularly bad fight, I said I was leaving. His face went deadly flat. His eyes narrowed. He looked straight at me without any emotion other than pure malice. And he told me, in a measured, deadly tone "Go ahead and try. I'll take you to court and tell them you're crazy. My entire family will testify that you are. No one will believe you. You'll never see your children again."

I believed him. God help me, I believed him. There is literally nothing else he could have said that would have made my blood run colder than that. The thought of losing my children ... I would have done anything to avoid that.

And I did. I stayed for over ten more years, with his words echoing in my head, "you'll never see your children again." I was willing to put up with whatever I had to - and I did - to not lose them. 

The sad thing is, I was already so beaten down at that point that I didn't see how ludicrous his threat was. I actually believed him because my self-esteem was gone, my confidence was erased, and my anxiety was elevated constantly. So I stayed.

I stayed.

There is no reason on earth why I should ever even entertain the thought of wishing I was back there, back where I was willing to let a monster eat my soul for a threat that could have never come to pass.

I am worth more. YOU are worth more. Don't let the monsters win. Try this yourself - call up the memories and give voice to them. Shine a light on the monster and stop idealizing a past that is anything but ideal. Drag these truths out from where you hid them and call them by name.

And then release them.