Part one, love, abuse, marriage, alcohol.....

OK so I have no idea really how to do this, lol.
I wanted to try this because I have a lot of life experience that maybe could help someone else out there, and also to help me work through some of the pain. I have posted a couple of blogs on here but then with the holidays and everything that was going on I kind of just neglected to get back on here. So here we go, I am going to kind of give you the run down, in parts because there is so much to say.

I have just moved out on my own for the very first time in my life and I am closer to 40 than 30. I have been with my soon to be ex husband since I was 19, and never lived by myself before that. We have a beautifully talented and intelligent child of 13. He is very, well I will say, strong willed, as I think most teenagers are, so this is not unusual. I have struggled with alcoholism for the last 5 or 6 years though only came to point that I could admit it, about a year and a half ago. If this weren't anonymous I am not sure I would be ready to talk about it on such a large scale, to such a large audience.

Let me just say that this move has been very frightening, liberating, exhilarating and lonely all at the same time.

There was a time when my husband and I were very much in love. He was very tall and handsome and treated me well, at first. I fell in love with his generosity and willingness to help others, he has a wonderful heart. He was also very much a mother's boy, and I thought that would mean that he would know how to treat a woman. (this can go both ways)

After some time together and we got to know each other better. We found out that we both had some very dysfunctional child hoods (this loaded up our suitcases). I will possibly get into mine a little later, but for now, I will give a brief overview of his. His father was an alcoholic and his mother a co-dependent. He was abused by his father at a young age and had to witness his mother being abused until he got old enough to interfere. I will not go into his entire childhood but that gives you the jest of what he had to deal with.

When we met, we were "just" friends. We were inseparable, hung out together all the time, except when we were working or sleeping. We were both doing some stupid things, like drinking and getting high together. As time progressed and we became closer and a more intimate relationship developed. He became a very jealous man. He didn't trust me when, at the time, I had given him no reason not to trust me. His temper was very volatile, and he is so big, and he would yell and scream, and then he hit me. I had very low sense of self-esteem when I met him, and this did not help. On the one hand I knew that I didn't ever deserve to be treated that way, and yet I was so in need of love that I was afraid to walk away, at first.

There were many instances that I could describe but I will only go through a couple. One that stands out in my mind at the moment, we were driving in the car, and as this was almost 20 years ago, so I don't really remember what the argument was about, but he was driving, and he started yelling at me, and of course I was crying. He hated to see me cry, vicious cycle, and out of the blue he started pounding on my left leg. I do mean pounding, this lasted for about a half a mile until we got where we were going and I got out of the car and ran into the house. I didn't know what to do, I didn't have any friends, I had already made my sister angry with me and I was afraid if I told her she would make me leave him and at this point I will still torn as to what to do. So I did nothing. I stayed in our room, we were living together by then. Later, he came in the room and apologized and said it would never happen again. The next day, when I got up to go to work, I could barely put my pants on, my leg was black and blue and green and purple and swollen. My boss, she was female, asked me what was wrong because she could see that I was in pain and it was very noticable that one leg was bigger than the other. She called me into her office and I started crying, I was scared and I didn't know what to do. She told me I should leave him and said she would help me get into someplace like the Ywca. At this point I was still more scared of being alone than going home to him, but she made me feel stronger, and he had promised he would not do this again. I began to stand up to him, which of course made it worse and he forced me to quit that job not long after that. (Everytime I would get close to someone and start to gain my strength, he would run them away, or make me quit a job, he even had issues with me spending time with my family)

 Sound familiar?

Well, guess what? It did happen again, many more times in fact. With each time it got a little harder to believe that he was sorry and my trust in him to keep me safe was dwindling, and my fear in him was mounting, but I just couldn't get past my fear of being alone (this fear will make more sense once I explain some of my background). So I stayed, then I got a particular job that I loved and I was very good at, I was promoted and I made friends. I was beginning to be happy, and many times I would much rather be at work than at home with him waiting for another bought of his temper to flare. I assume that the fact I was doing so well and was happy must have bothered him, because he couldn't or wouldn't hold a job while I was working there. He spent all of his time sitting in the corner booth of the restaurant, watching my every move, all of a sudden, he was stealing the joy out of my "safe place". He didn't like the friends that I made, because they were making me stronger and I was starting to stand up to him.

After one particularly nasty fight, I called my girlfriend and she and her brother came to help me move out while he was gone one night because I was afraid to face him. He found me later that night, it was awful, he begged and pleaded for me to come back to him and I was still in love with him. I told him what he was doing was making me crazy and I felt smothered and scared, he promised he would change. I took him back.  To this very day he throws this up in my face, because I was sitting on the couch with my girlfriends brother while my girlfriend was in the kitchen and he thought we had something going on, still hounding me about it 20 years later, really? 

This cycle repeated itself several times, I would leave and he would tell me what I wanted to hear and I would believe him and take him back. Until the last time it happened.

I got pregnant, shortly after I took him back that last time. We were ecstatic. Things went fairly well, he treated me nice for the most part, I think because I didn't work, go anywhere or see anyone, although he would get kind of mean and nasty with me when he was drinking but he never put his hands on me. We had a beautiful, happy and healthy little boy. No real big issues for about the first year or so, but of course I didn't work and catered to his every whim and I was the sole care provider for our child. Once I went back to work, out of necessity not desire, well things started going down hill again. I ended up having to take a second job at our son's daycare in order to pay for his daycare and come out on top instead of in the hole. This meant that he had to pick up the slack with our son, he picked him up from daycare and took him home until I could get done and get there, he wouldn't even change a diaper. This would be about seven or so in the evening and I still had to cook dinner (although he had been home two hours, I started to resent that), feed and bathe the baby (well he was a toddler), and then I would fall into bed with no energy left. So our love life started to really decline. He didn't like this nor did he understand I was simply exhausted. A few months of this and stress was very high for both of us.

 What I am about to tell you is the very last time he put his hands on me in an abusive manner.

Our son was about 1 1/2 - 2 years old, because he was walking (aka running) around everywhere and talking. My husband and a buddy of his had been drinking all night, at this time I did not drink at all. I had stopped everything, literally the moment I found out I was pregnant. They had drank more than their share of beer, but add to that a bunch of tequila, and they were both fall down, pass out drunk. My husband passed out in bed, and his friend, who just lived down the street, left the house walking, I had assumed home. Well several hours later, I am standing out on the front porch smoking a cigarette (because we didn't smoke in the house with the baby), and I hear someone get out of an old car that we had in the driveway. I about had a heart attack, because I didn't know there was anyone out there. It turns out to be my husbands drunk friend and he proceeded to come into the house. I panic, my husband is a very jealous man, and in my mind, I had two choices. I could either let him sleep and take a chance of him waking up to his friend being there, since I couldn't convince him to leave, and then he would be angry thinking something was going on, or I could wake him out of a drunken stupor and hope for the best. I chose to wake him up, big mistake!

It was really all a blur from there until,...my son comes around the kitchen corner, starts screaming and crying "mommy, mommy, I want my mommy!" at that moment I realized I was dangling against the wall with my feet off of the ground and he had his hands around my neck. I don't know if I was about to pass out and that is why I have this blank spot in my memory or if the memory is just so painful that my mind has blocked it out, but never the less I remember nothing from the time I woke my husband up, until my son started screaming for me. I started fighting at that point, mother lioness kicked in or something, and I got away, scooped up our son and locked us in the bathroom. I called his sister, and we went to her house, he had taken off walking. The next day, I talked to him after he had sobered up, and he had no memory of it, and to this day doesn't believe that it ever happened, thank God our son was to young to remember, but unfortunately, I will never be able to forget. I told him, this is your last chance, if you want me and your son in you life you better not ever lay another hand on me and you better never touch our son like that, ever! Or I will take him and leave you and this time I will not take you back, because this is no longer just about me it is about our son.

To his credit, he never did put hands on me in anger again.

this was part one.......

A small highlight of the emotions that Motherhood can bring

  When I became pregnant, I realized that I had been given a gift. An opportunity to nurture and shape the life of another human being, my child. I am almost at a loss for words to describe the feelings that become involved with being a mother. I believe it is the utmost important thing I will have ever done in my life.
   My first emotion was fear. What if I am not good enough? What if I can't take care of him? What if he gets sick? What if I drop him?
lol You name it I thought it.
   Then it was a combination of emotions, gratefulness, excitement and awe. Each day as he grew in my body, I felt a deeper attachment to my unborn child. I was so grateful, and I stiIl am grateful for the chance to be a mother, a chance that I know God gave me. I was already forming dreams for him and how I would want him to act and succeed in life. I was so excited to bring this baby into the world I could hardly stand it, and I was in awe at the miracle that happened to my body to produce this tiny human.
   Then the moment of truth, he was born, a happy healthy baby boy. I was amazed and so proud, words cannot accurately describe the feelings that I had when I saw him. I am truly blessed. I felt a myriad of feelings. Relief that everything went ok, he was fine. Pleasure of looking into the face of my child and knowing that he is mine (and his dad's of course). Fear again, because I would be taking him home in a couple of days and this was not babysitting, I can't give him back,lol. I never wanted to anyway, but I was scared none the less. Love like I have never and probably will never feel again. The love that a parent has for their child is undescribable. I never understood what that felt like until I had my son.
    Then you have all of the firsts. The first smile, first laugh, first tooth, first step, everything they do is a miracle to watch. It certainly gives a parent a new outlook on life to see the world from the eyes of a child. They can be the funniest creatures as well. You never know what they might do or say, or repeat. The first continue throughout their life, the first day of school, the first crush, the first time they get grounded because they think they are grown and can say whatever they want. lol
    I have made 13 years as a parent so far. I have made a lot of mistakes and added a lot of things, both good and bad, to my suitcase as well as my sons. As he gets older I have a new emotion and that is frustration. I get frustrated when he argues with me, or when he talks back. I get aggravated when I tell him to do something and two days later I am asking why he still hasn't done it. Another emotion that is often present is pride. I am very proud of the young man that my son is turning into. He is very bright and talented, and does exceptional in school as well as band.
    With all of these emotions, the one that is constant and never goes away, is love. I love my child with every breath I take and there is absolutely nothing in this world that could change that.

My interpretation of Life as I see it

      Life as I see it, depends on the day, the mood, the weather and sometimes the people around me. There are many things that go into our perspective of things. What we have been through in our lives makes us who we are, like who was or was not a part of of your life, what did or did not happen in your childhood. These things add up, and a friend once told me that its like a suitcase you carry around with you, and everyone has one. Some may be filled with sadness, while others are angry, and yet there are still some out there that have suitcases filled with happiness and contentment. Essentially our suitcases become filled with a myriad of emotions as well as memories and lessons learned. So that is where my stories will come from, out of my suitcase and onto the page. I hope they will benefit someone in some way, whether an answer to a question or a laugh at the right moment, whatever it may be I hope it serves you well.