Breaking my nails on the edge of the cliff and spitting out dirt I clumsily climbed out of the dark bottomless pit as my memories were ripped out of my soul.
I had
“tunnel vision.”
I could only focus on my recovery. Everything in my life related to my childhood abuse and my desperate need to heal. Even though I began to function again in my family unit my recovery was my
first thought in the morning and last thought at bedtime. Nightly I prayed that
I wouldn’t have another nightmare; I wanted to sleep peacefully for a
change.
When I ventured outside of my home and tried to share with close friends what I was experiencing I didn’t receive
the support I had expected. Instead, I was shocked and hurt by their negative responses. I began to realize that my
subject was not welcomed among family or friends including my husband.
Jonathan continued to do what he always did best; work and stay away.
Sometimes he listened but didn’t have anything to say in response. At one point
he questioned my memories; I immediately did not feel safe around him. Later he
told me that his “friend” Sheri went through similar abuses and “she is
recovered!” This was a low blow !
My heart was so wounded from betrayal from every side; I cried my heart out
to God to heal me !
One day I bought a punching bag, hung it up in my garage and began to pound
out my anguish. I screamed against all of the forces of darkness that presented
themselves; I saw how they held me and my family captive. I continued my venting
until I broke blood vessels in my fingers. I went inside, exhausted. The phone
rang a few minutes later; a survivor friend saying that she just had a vision: I was
surrounded by thousands of angels fighting a spiritual battle with me !
As I gained confidence that I was worthy of love I began to move away from my self-sabotaging behavior. My heart began to soften toward others suffering and my
desires began to shift. Through therapy I found other survivors and felt supported for the first time.
I wanted to experience support and healing in my marriage relationship. Instead, a
great chasm began to grow between my husband and me. Even though I tried to
ignore it, I sensed that we were separating spiritually. I wanted to be whole and healthy while he wanted to continue his sabotaging behavior.
We were like two alcoholics in a bar; each taking turns getting drunk. I
finally sobered up and saw how drunk he really was. He still sat in the bar. I
couldn’t convince him to leave the bar so I found more positive things to do for
myself and stopped going with him.
I loved him and didn’t want to leave him. So I continued to ignore all the
signs.
One morning while watching the news together Jonathan said, “I just saw us in
Russia!”
“Why couldn’t you have said Switzerland?”
I knew then that our life was taking an entirely new direction . . .
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