I ran a 5K Saturday morning.  It was great.  I was under 27 minutes and with the soupy humidity and warm temps, I was happy with that.

I called 911 on Sunday afternoon.  I was beyond feeling safe here and just wanted to get the hell out WITH my daughters.  They are pawns to him when things go to crap.  Sunday was no different.  I calmly decided to remove myself from the escalating situation and my daughter told me she wanted to come with me.  On a thumbnail, he played the “crazy” card and placed himself between me and them.  Rather than add to an already lengthy list of future issues, I walked away and called 911.  Cops came; needed my ID, etc.  This blew my mind.  They would not stand by so that I could leave safely with my daughters.  “Ma’am, it’s a civil matter.”  I asked them if they left and I still tried to leave with my daughters and things escalated and my husband hit me, would it be a civil matter then?  No, it wouldn’t.  They would come back and it would be a criminal matter.  Hm.  Go figure.  “That sucks,”  I told the cop.  I stayed.  They stay, I stay.  I am not leaving them again the way my mom used to leave me.  So now, 2 days later, everything is still a mess – it’s funny how emotional abuse just zaps the ever-loving life out of everything in it’s wake.  My heart hurts.  I went to the bank and put $7,500 aside for “when I need it,” which will likely be sooner than later.  I was embarrassed to report to my BeachBody coach that I just wouldn’t be able to participate in the team call that evening because I was reeling from that day.

Today, I had to take my ID out again.  Today was better – I was at the Diocese for our parish and I was getting finger-printed for my Fall part-time job at church.  It felt nice being there.  I just feel the energy in places, you know?  That place has very good energy.

When I got back to the car, my phone, which I left on purpose (wow, that’s progress), had a message on it – something to the effect about his heart hurt for me and if there was anything he could do, followed by the praying hands emoticon.  That was a moment in my day when I stopped and thought, “Am I fricking crazy?”  Like, seriously?  You scream at me on Saturday night until you are hoarse, wake up and put flowers in vases all over the kitchen, cook for a daughter, cause more destruction on Sunday, and you really want to know if there is anything you can do?  Thank God for words and writing because I can safely say that talking to my therapist yesterday & today, writing the letters he asked me to write, plus writing this blog, shows me that I am not crazy.  Well, relatively speaking – I know remaining in this sufferfest must make people wonder about my sanity.  It makes me wonder at times.

I fully believe that constant contact with my Heavenly Father is key.  I am trying to figure it all out.  Without a blueprint.  My examples growing up didn’t prepare me for a normal life.  So, here I am trying to figure out what a normal life is.  So far, I know what it isn’t.  It isn’t screaming at people; it isn’t many of the things that have happened in our home.

I believe that as long as I stay here, in this false poser of a relationship, I am giving credibility to us being a couple.  That bothers me.  I am getting there, slowly but surely.

About southernrunningmom

Contact me like this: Via FaceBook - Mary Broussard, Certified Health Coach (feel free to private message me) or e-mail me - I am also on Twitter - MaryBob143. Instagram - Southern Running Mom...peace out. I keep my original profile details up because...well, that was my truth back then. Today, I'm much different. And busy. So, I'll update the About Me section very soon. Meanwhile, my tags would be: recovery, AA, 12 Steps, honesty, abuse, recognizing narcissism. Any who, thanks for reading this far. Mom with great husband & family...I totally love running, cooking, gardening...

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