The 5 Years Before I Left for Bliss

There are so many ‘if I told you, you would never understand how we stayed one more day’ stories. If you string all of the stories together, which is exactly what you can see clearly once you get out, you would not accept that life for one more second. Even after all this time, all I can manage to say is that somehow, someway, I believed just enough of the sparse, sprinkled, spread out lies that ‘we were ok’, to continue to keep me in it.

So we bought a house together. Like I said, big, beautiful, space for all of us, pool and hot tub. Everyone living together under one roof. That was summertime. And then we moved out (the first time) at month 4 of living in that new house. Moved everything we owned into my friend’s garage, the same friend who had done the slip and slide under the couch in the mud during the house sale 2 years before. She was always there. They all were. The boys and I were out once again and we set ourselves up in my childhood home with my parents. We felt that old familiar peace that we knew we were supposed to have settle back in. We were there just over a month when I found us a new home, just around the corner from my parents, available for rent the following month. I agreed to pay the deposit, I was ready for this new start. But it never happened. I called up the landlord and told him I was bringing the deposit to him, but I had changed my mind and we wouldn’t be moving in. I asked my Dad if he would drive with me to drop off the deposit because I didn’t know how the landlord would react. And of course Dad drove me. “Whatever you need Miss Annie.” That was always Dad, for the big stuff and the little stuff, “Whatever you need Miss Annie.” I told my Dad I believed I could try once more. He just looked at me, was quiet for a moment, and then gently whispered, “You do know he will never change?” But I thought I was right. And again, the people who desperately wanted to pull me out of all of this, the people who offered whatever support I needed to be able to just stay out, had to watch me try and try again. I took us back to that toxic relationship, just 6 weeks after leaving it. I thought I was smart this time. This time I went with a condition, a plan. We would live downstairs while he lived upstairs, and we would work on the relationship. I can’t fathom how I thought that would make any difference. We stayed on separate levels of the house for the next month, through Christmas holidays, through friends visiting up and downstairs separately. I thought I was so strong. I was making my point, so I believed. I didn’t give in until I was ready. Not until I had convinced myself that this time he understood I wouldn’t tolerate the abuse any longer. When the new year came, we tried living all together, once more. This time it took two long years before I left again.

Yes, two years into the new house, we left again. I didn’t take a thing this time. Didn’t care about a thing anymore. I was so done. I can’t even remember the exact reason we left. Can’t remember the specific mistreatment for the uncountable time. That is unbelievable looking back. But there were so many hurts, some of them blend together now. Some of them don’t blend in at all. Some stand out in ways that I can’t let myself think about for more than a minute. I still can’t write about those hurts. I took us again back to my parents’, now just my Mom’s as we had lost my Dad a few months before. I wish so very much he could have lived to see us truly break free. This time when we left, I was convinced I was done with that brutal relationship. I didn’t speak with him or communicate in any way. I felt relief in ways that felt life changing. I was happy. My boys were happy. He took me to court for money towards the house and was denied by the judge. He threatened to take any money he was owed, through me, from my Dad’s will, and I was disgusted. And I cannot believe these next words - we stayed gone for 4 months but still I went back.

This time the same stress, sadness, worry, abuse, dragged on for 3 more years. It always, each time, took longer to leave and that is terrifying looking back, knowing there may have come a time if I continued to go back when I may have gone back and never left. I am grateful every day that I never retuned when I walked out that final time. But for now, we are still at the ‘going back’ stage of the story. We were gone for 4 months and when I first arrived back, I apologized to a mutual friend (whom I did and still do adore) for leaving. I vowed it would never happen again. Promised I would not just ‘give up’ anymore. I wish either one of us in that moment could have understood enough to know the vast difference between giving up and breaking free. It is such a sad moment to think back on now. To know that there were people, who I know cared for me, who watched me walk back into that life and thought it was the right thing to do. But someone outside doesn’t know, could never know all of the tiny moments that string together to make a lifetime of abuse. YOU know. You know how quietly it happens. You know how glaring it can be to you, while still somehow invisible to others.  It never seemed the right time to end things because either there was a party planned for the weekend, we were heading out of town, parents were coming to visit, a special night was planned….and on and on. We had just put a pool in, we had just purchased a hot tub, just added a deck on, just finished the bar downstairs. I can see now that he was keeping life too busy for me to see what was happening. But still, if you’re honest with yourself, you DO know, and you do see it. And you need to slow down and listen to you.

What they do is not done accidentally, and either you can listen to your own voice or it will eventually come screaming at you.

*Safety is always a priority. If you are at risk of harm, please reach out to your local supports.