No Place Like Home for The Holidays

I planned to spend Christmas with my family in the prairies. I started to feel my anxiety levels rising in the days leading up to my flight. Around this time my younger sister started texting me about issues she was having with my Mum. I took this as "she's finally emotionally available". I was so very wrong. She was manipulating me and because I'd spent the last 4 years being manipulated by him and haven't started my counseling to deal with this reasons why, I never noticed it.

To sum up two 48 hours leading up to my flight, implosion, drama and a lot of tears. My older sister played peace maker and I talked my Mum down off the cliff. She suffers from PTSD and when she gets too stressed thoughts of suicide come creeping in. 

Flight day came, my anxiety levels started to drop and my dog and I landed safely in the chilly prairies. The major disappointment of my trip was my younger sister left the day before I arrived and never came back. I didn't get to visit with her and even worse, I never met my new niece. 

I wanted to take some family photos and  replace my wedding photos. This didn't happen. I also spent my visit divided between my Mum's house and my older sisters house. It was like they had joint custody of me. I will say that spending time with family was great and I didn't want to leave. I was afraid to feel lonely again, that my depression would worsen. I was lonely when I got home and it took a week to adjust. 

Christmas shattered my sense of security that I had because my family, while small, was close. This led me to gain the courage to reach out to my paternal uncle. I've realized that the only people you can really depend on are family member. This isn't an absolute but I chose to believe that no matter how long you go without talking to family, they still love you and want to hear from you. 

Finding Family and Healing Father Wounds

Many months ago my Mum had talked to my paternal uncle (for work) and had talked to him about me. She had asked if it would be able to share his number with me and he said yes. Around this time I was still with him and didn't have the emotional band width to process the thought of calling. I was too ashamed of the life I was living and feared having to lie about my circumstances.

Lately, it's been weighing heavy on my heart to call him. Thing is, I'm afraid to call. He's my dad's baby brother and while they aren't close he's still related to him. It's as though he's a part of my dad but he isn't. They aren't alike for the most part. My uncle is softer and more compassionate from what my Mum and I can remember. He lived with my dad and Mum for a few months back when they were married so I trust my Mum's opinion of him. Besides, she wouldn't have given me his number if she felt it would hurt me in any way. 

So why am I so afraid? It hit me yesterday. Its because I was so hurt by my dad. I could only seem to focus on the monster he now is because of recent things I've learned about him and his compassion (or lack there of) at work. I wasn't focused on the fond memories of my childhood. He wasn't always the most involved parent but he did help me to read, taught me to swim, cross country ski and took me camping every summer. I remember his amazing campfire stories that to this day I think he should have published as a children's book. I was focused on the lack of compassion he had and probably still does for the victims of domestic violence. It's like he's treated me that way and I felt shameful.

I finally called him but he didn't answer and the voicemail wasn't a recording, just the number reached by the automated voice. I took the chance and simple said my first and last name and that I was his brothers youngest daughter. I left it at that and hoped he'd call me back. Shortly after that I called my Mum to hear a friendly voice because that call (though I talked to no one) was still a huge step for me. What if he asked about my marriage? What if I started to cry and couldn't stop instead of answering? What if I let it slip out that my husband abused me? What if he judged me? What if he condemned me for not calling my dad in that situation? All these thoughts were running through my mind as I tried to work up the courage to call and I was one step closer to them becoming reality. 

After I hung up with my Mum I decided that 8:00 pm wasn't too early to have a hot bath and go to bed. Literally, the second I stepped my first foot in the tub I could hear my cell phone ringing. Of course he would call me back. Its like when you're waiting for your food at a restaurant, the moment you leave the table to use the bathroom is the moment your food arrives. 

I answered and we chatted. He asked about my life, what I did for work, where I lived and how my older sister was doing. It was amazing; so simple to talk but so scary to make the first call. As he talked and told me of his life, his family I started to pick up subtle hints that he was pretty distant from my Dad. He asked if I had contacted any other family, if I had contacted my aunt. I said I hadn't, that I didn't really have any contact information for any of them. He told me that not only did his baby sister live in my province (which I knew) but she lived in my city. When he told me that area of he city she lived in, I realized that she was literally a 20 minute bus ride away. He suggested reaching out to his oldest brother as well. 

In the last few weeks since Christmas and all that happened (that I'll talk about in another post) I've realized that while I love my sisters and my Mum, I can't rely on them solely to fill the hole in my heart, that I need to find family members that lived closer. I've talked about it before, I want to finally set down some serious roots and stop being a gypsy of sorts. An aunt, minutes away, I cry tears of joy as I type that. Given my issues with men (they scare me lately), I'm so glad that not only do I have family close by, but that family is female.

I talked my uncle and mentioned that I was in my home province for Christmas and had visited my grandfathers (his fathers) grave to pay respect and also to gather proof of his death as part of the information required to request his military records. My uncle mentioned that they were having a memorial at my grandmothers grave the weekend I had planned to visit my Mum for her wedding reception because it will be 50 years since her death. While I would like to attend and be with family and pay respect to my grandmother I certainly didn't want the opportunity to see my dad. I explained that I probably couldn't attend due to that being my Mum's reception day I would certainly like to see my family either the day before or after (or whatever time frame they would be near by). 

After we hung up began to think about what I would do and how I would act if I saw my dad again. Would I be the cold, stand offish bitch I had been previously? Probably not. Would I swallow my pride and boundaries and try and start a relationship with him again? Certainly not. Knowing all I do now and what I've learned about what boundaries are, I understand what I must do. I respect that he's my dad and I will focus on the fond memories of my childhood visits with him. In saying that, I wouldn't turn a blind (and naive) eye to his problems. He's an alcoholic and who doesn't respect women and is racist towards aboriginals. He won't change who he is and who he is isn't the man my Mum fell in love with. The man he is now is because of his profession (a police officer). He's mentally unwell. It's not entirely his own fault, he has horrible association. The job has instilled in him that he's above others and has taught him to be very self centered. I would probably hug him and tell him I loved him and not say much of anything else to him. I wouldn't hide my life from him but I wouldn't chat with him about it. I wouldn't welcome in depth conversations but rather keep it light and talk about the weather or sports or fishing. Anything that wouldn't rock the proverbial boat.

I heard something a few months back during an interview on Youtube where a Christian gal said "forgiveness doesn't mean trust". This rings true to so many areas in my life. I've walked with a heavy heart because I always thought that forgiveness should be mean forget and a fresh slate. It's not quite like that. It means that I won't hold that hurt against you anymore but I won't open my heart and my life blindly to you. I won't let my dad back in my life without some serious proof that he's sober and sorry for the way he's acted the last 15 or so years. It would have to be coo-berated by someone else (another family member). 

So tonight is Friday and I have the weekend off (though I have some paperwork to catch up on for work) and I've decided to call my aunt tomorrow. I've also decided that I'm going to print off the pictures I have of my grandfather and other family members and put them up. I've wanted to hang family photos for awhile and had planned on taking new ones at Christmas but that didn't pan out. I'll print some nice photos from their Facebook.

Survival Response

I haven't written in a while. I was busy again with work. It took my a few days before I had a realization. God knows when I can handle dealing with a part of my trauma and when I can't. So this morning, I was ready. I realized after a long night with little sleep that I used to feel sick most days. Tired, headaches, stomach pains etc plagued me during my marriage. Now, I feel better most days even though I work more. 

People may wonder how I survived him so long. The human body (and spirit) is an amazing thing, it's programmed to survive. Survive fear, famine and trauma among other things. I lived in a world that made abuse a regular and almost normal thing. I remembered sitting down with a pastor over a year ago and found it hard to explain the reason behind me fear. How can you explain abuse when it's a normal part of your world. It's not until you find yourself in a new world can you actually realize how bad it got, slowly, over months and years. How he groomed you, he manipulated you and used your natural strengths (but mostly weaknesses) to his advantage.

I couldn't verbalize the sexual abuse because I couldn't even recognize that's what it was. I couldn't verbalize the control he had over me because he had made me believe I was trying to control him. I couldn't explain why I felt sick so often, even after I found out I had Celiac's disease. How could I explain that my body was screaming to me that something was wrong. It could only keep up the "survival" so long and it reached maximum capacity long ago.

Since being free, I don't feel sick very often. Tired, yes but then again I'm working through so serious trauma and dealing with depression. That can really take it out of you. My stomach doesn't hurt and I rarely even get a headache.

As I sit here typing I just remembered the time I was hospitalized two weeks before my wedding. I had a migraine for over a week and my prescription medication wasn't working anymore. He was less than understanding and I hadn't even married him yet. How did I not see this as a red flag?

I don't know what I was thinking, I wanted the pain to stop but I really didn't want any needles let alone an IV. He sarcastically asked me what I thought they were going to do. Perhaps this migraine was my body screaming for me to call off the wedding. Then again, I don't have regrets about the way my life has played out. The plan God had for my escape and all he worked out (for His glory) made me 100% certain it was Him.

For the most part these days, I'm healthy. My main issue these days is anxiety. Anxiety and nervousness are two very different things but most people use those two works interchangeably. I found an posting on Facebook that talked about the secretes of anxiety. The difference for me is anxiety causes me not to feel hungry until I have intense hunger pains vs being nervous I can still feel hungry. Currently, nothing seems overly appetizing. Normally I can decide what I want to eat fairly quickly but this week I don't want anything at all. I'm hoping that once the plane lands on Christmas eve that this anxiety will dissipate. 

Haunted

I feel a bit haunted the last few days. I had a bit of a moment in the shower Sunday morning. I had a flash back to showering with him and then I thought he got into the shower with me. I hated showering with him because he wanted it to be a sexual activity. I however, wanted it to be a time to get clean and get out. There I was, shampoo running down my face I opened my eyes to check and pulled the shower curtain back to check the bathroom. I know that may in fact be a sign of insanity, or maybe it's a sign of PTSD.

Last night I laid in bed trying to fall asleep and I felt like someone was standing over my bed. Of course no one was but I got to thinking why all these thoughts and feelings are coming forward. For weeks I've been working through the sadness and loneliness that comes from separation. I've seemed to have moved on to dealing with some of the trauma. 

He haunts my mind, all he put me through and all he did to me. I'm trying to find my new normal. I still have this feeling of wasting the days away or that my apartment is messy and this neurotic thought to put as much away to avoid it being broken. I still have this sheet of crumbled paper with my exercise routine. It's crumbled because I left it out once and during a fight he crumbled it up and threw it in the garbage. There are still little bits of him in my life and try as I may to forget his existence he isn't fully gone. 

He control the finances, despite the fact that I made more money. He would frequently spend the account to $0, max out my credit cards and then complain that he didn't have spending money for his days off. I however would spend $30 every few weeks on getting my nails done and would get guilt-ed about it. I remember worrying about what I would eat and if he'd throw a tantrum and throw out what food we did have in the fridge. I blamed my finances on him and for the most part still do. The amount of money that man spent on restaurants was ridiculous. The thing is, I did it to myself this time. I didn't see it coming but I did it. I'm strapped for cash for the next 2 weeks and it sucks. I sabotaged myself. I bought a few things I needed and in the past couldn't have (rubber boots being one of them) and now can't really afford to do much of anything. Bright side, I work a lot during that time, 6 shifts in 9 days. Why did I agree to work that much? Because I'm a crazy person... actually it's because I'm taking two weeks off at Christmas to go back to the prairies and visit my family. 

Yesterday was the last day of the month and I felt a little excited. What's so special about the last day of November you might ask. I hope and pray it's the day he moves out of our apartment (that's two blocks from my apartment) move downtown (closer to his current job). Why November 30th? Because I finally told him mid-October that I was seeking a divorce. He hopefully gave notice at the end of October and thus would move end of November. If he didn't move downtown maybe I'll hit the jackpot and he'll move back to the prairies. Why would he go back? Because he's got an ego and the cash he used to make as a engineering technologist vs what he makes now is night and day. It's easier to find a new victim girlfriend when you have cash to take them out to dinner and buy them presents. His current income would fund McDonald's and a dollarstore find. 

Fingers crossed I can now live in my wonderful neighbourhood sans him. I currently take the back alley's to get to the convenience store or grocery store in my neighbourhood to avoid the potential of seeing him on the street. I am constantly looking over my shoulder in the store for fear he'll be there buying junk food like he did before I left. The one thing I can say is the panic I felt within when I was walking in my neighbourhood has dissipated over the last nearly 4 months. Maybe now I'll have the courage to get back to running... or maybe I'll stay on the couch eating my weight in gluten free cookies. Either way, so long November!

Let's Talk About Sex, Baby

Feeling angry is just one of many steps of working through grief. I don't know if I went through this step but was shocked at the onset. At first I tried to think of what specifically was making me angry. When I couldn't pin point it I realized that a lack of reasoning is a sign its not something currently going on in my life.

I got to thinking about the other stages of grief. Had I gone through the other stages or am I going through out of order? Denial? Check. Bargaining? Check. Depression, that's for darn sure and I'm still in that one. Did I skip over anger?

Is it possible that I'm angry because I'm lonely? Is it because my sex drive is returning? Or is it my subconscious releasing the memories because I'm ready to face them? Maybe it's both.

For years I've been guilt-ed, sweet talked, manipulated and belittled into sex.  I'd realized that if I'd give in on Friday's I could avoid the passive aggressive jabs he'd make at me all day Saturday and the major blow out, knock down, drag out Sunday. That would result in my crying myself to sleep and us not talking Monday. We might not talk Tuesday and then Wednesday the apologies. I learned the cycle and the fighting still continued because it wasn't about that one issue. It was about control and manipulation and it was like he took pleasure in messing with my emotions. This in itself could make a person go crazy and for me it worsened my depression to the point of serious thoughts of suicide.

I can recall more times than I can count going through the motions, trying to put on a face of enjoyment on the outside while on the inside I'm screaming "get off of me" or "hurry up so this hell can be over". I would lay there hoping that because I put out Friday night I wouldn't have to Saturday morning. I was, more often that not, disappointed. It was never often enough, I could never be all he expected me to be. And yet, I would try and change myself into the person he wanted me to be in hopes of solving all the issues of our marriage.

He never held me down but yet I feel he sexually violated me by using manipulation. When he told his family how bad our marriage was they sided with him on how it was unhealthy to have sex as infrequently as we did. I can't blame his family for siding with him but you would think that they would question the reasoning or underlying issues that resulted in the lack of sex. 

I know there are a lot of ladies out there that have faked it, I certainly have. He would get mad at himself for lasting two minutes and I would then have to make him feel better and tell him I had enjoyed it. Eventually I realized that faking it would help make it believable. 

I wonder if I'll ever enjoy sex like I did before him. The issue is before him I wasn't a christian and wasn't opposed to sex outside of marital vows. So I can't go back to who I was because who I was may have involved going out clubbing with my gal pals, drinking excessively and flirt with any and every guy in sight. I wasn't one to sleep around and have a bunch of one night stands but I can't be that person anymore. I've come out of bad relationships before and I had a routine to get over the breakup but the only one I can do now (in good conscious) and  it's only listening to country music. 

So why am I so angry? Maybe it's because I'm unsure of who I am and what my life is going to look like. I'm not angry that I'm not with him anymore but I'm angry about the life I may not have. Normally I would suppress my anger but that's an unhealthy way to handle things, instead I'm giving myself permission to be angry. It's a nice change from the depression and general ho-hums.

Exodus, Fashion Rants & Christmas Trees

Currently my church is doing a series on the book of Exodus. Last Sunday's sermon was on God's instruction to celebrate Passover annually. During this week's community group, in the post Sunday content, questions led to a discussion on how God led the people out of Egypt because they were faithful and yet made them wait a generation before entering the promise land and how that is a precursor for Jesus' deliverance from sin. Jesus' deliverance isn't a guarantee that our lives will be perfect.

As this discussion was going on I started to think about my marriage and how it directly links to the sermon. I wasn't a Christian when I married him but through suffering I found Jesus. I was redeemed but my life was far from perfect. I waited in faith but I didn't know what that faith was leading me to. I started to feel a panic attack coming on but  reminded myself to breath and I managed to stop the attack before it started.

God made the Israelites wander the desert because of their lack of faith. Does this mean that God made me endure years of abuse because of my lack of faith? Or was he using the situation for his glory? I think it's the latter. I was new to my faith and had a lot of road blocks to living out my faith because of him. But, I went to church, I learnt to pray, I read my bible (when I could) and I trusted God to work something out.

Because of the way God arranged it all for his glory, I am strengthened in my faith. I know that God arranged the time of my exodus and worked out all the little details. I know that God loves me and while my earthly father was a failure in my life, He has never failed me. He will never fail me, Just as He never failed the Isrealites. He made sure they had food to survive each day. He ensured their clothing would last. I know that God provides the means to allow me to buy food but the clothing thing really mades me think. I mean how many times do we buy an expensive pair of shoes or a great pair of jeans and they last 4 years (pretty much never) let alone 40 years. God apparently doesn't need those Michael Kors boots to last a life time even if they are classic and fashionly speaking would like the test of time. Jackie O's style was a classic but I imagine her clothing hasn't lasted her the last 40 years.

Back to Exodus.... when you think about the amount of time the Isrealites were enslaved (430 years) vs the amount of time they had to spend wandering the desert it makes my 4 years of a crappy marriage and 30 days of waiting to move looks like a cake walk.  Imagine how they felt the day they left Egypt. Do you think they remembered that feeling during those 40 years? Do you think it helped them get through each day? I can still remember the way I felt each day during the count down to moving day. I felt sick to my stomach and worried he would catch me leaving him. I couldn't sleep (and yet slept better than I do now) and would pretend to sleep long enough for him to fall asleep, then I would open the Ikea app on my phone and plan out my new apartment.

 I spent so long waiting, hanging on to the hope that one day my life would be better with him. Turns out that day never came but a better day did. A day where I wake up (when I'm ready instead of just before I think he'll be mad because "I'm wasting away the day"), I grab my coffee and take my dog for a walk. Most days I'm on the verge of tears as I walk, not because I'm sad my marriage is over but happy to be free. Some days it's also the feeling of loneliness and missing the feeling of being in love but never missing being in love with him. It's funny, I almost forget what he looks like now and yet he still haunts me in my dreams.

I try to focus on the little things, the little freedoms I have each day. Yesterday I went to finally switch my drivers license to BC and I had the freedom to get the license in my maiden name and was so excited. I never thought I would be happy to carry my fathers name and frankly wanted to change my last name since we stopped talking in 2007 but yesterday, I was proud to have it back, At least that name meant something to me, something that wasn't a reminder of the chains of bondage.

I also bought a Christmas tree yesterday and even though I wanted a fresh one, I bought a fake one. I couldn't leave a really tree for 2 weeks at Christmas because it would be a fire hazard. I spent an obscene amount of time in the store trying to pick one out and started to feel panic and the need to hurry up. Then I stopped myself and realized he wasn't standing next to me, rushing me like he would. He wasn't getting mad at me for being myself (which is indecisive at times). I relished in the time to think about which tree I really wanted. I finally decided on a small, pre-lite interior/exterior tree that was in a planter. It was a matter of floor space and this one had the smallest diameter without being a table top tree.

Last night I sat there, decorating my new tree with my new decoration. He would hate this tree with its shabby tinsel garlend and pink decorations. The thing is, it's so me and each time I look at it I smile and remember that this apartment is mine and this year is my time to remember who I once was and who I truly am going to be going forward.

Manipulation and Other Talents

I was married to master manipulator. He slowly over time took control of my emotions and thoughts. It was so subtle I didn't notice until it was too late. 

I questioned myself constantly. Was I being oversensitive? Was I controlling? Was I manipulative? Was I abusive?

This weeks church sermon really got me thinking about him. He sought to make himself the centre of me. I slowly allowed him to do so but am thankful I never actually lost faith. I can recall many times (too many to count) crying in the bathroom on my knees calling out to God. Why God, why am I hear? Why do I deserve this? Why aren't you changing him, changing his heart? I've been praying for years God, others too, for him to come to know Jesus and be saved. I couldn't understand why I had to endure this after enduring similar circumstances as a child. Hadn't I paid my dues and taken my bumps?

The pastor also talked about having patience for God's plan. That really made me smile. I had patience (and still do) for God's plan. I left with a renewed sense of gratitude for everything God has already worked out for my good. He did because I didn't force it myself (like I have in the past). I wanted to be married so bad that I was blinded. It made me realize that despite the fact I am single again and only have so many childbearing years left, God has a plan for my life.