Survivor

Dear Readers: 

I find myself writing again because this blog is such an easy way to vent all my frustrations and then tuck them away.  It’s an awkward subject, this one.  It’s easier to type anonymously than trying to share it in depth to friends or family.  You know that infomercial that’s about the rotisserie and time after time during the spot they repeat the tag line:  Fix It and Forget IT!!!  Well, that’s what this blog is to me.  Type about it – vent all you want – the forget about it and move on.  Thanks for reading my random rants!!!

Some of you, but not all, know my past history.  For those of you who don’t – I’m sorry to dump this on you like this but it has to be explained before you will understand why I need to vent.  My first marriage turned into 12 years of domestic violence in the worse way.  I was very young when I married and it was exactly 30 days before our first year anniversary when he pinned me to the floor on my stomach, knelt on my back, and pummeled the hell out of me for what seemed like an eternity but was probably only 3 or 4 minutes.  I could barely move for a few days.  I remember during the beating that my mind just couldn’t comprehend what was happened so I was literally thinking the entire time that our carpet was still like new because I had carpet fuzz in my mouth.  When it was over, of course there was much wailing from the man who would become my torturer for the next 11 years.  He wailed about how he couldn’t believe he did it.  He wailed about how much he loved me.  He wailed as he asked my forgiveness.  My mind shut down, I stared, I nodded, and I think some part of me knew that it would never end but I made a decision that I would give him another chance as over 98% of all women who get hit will do.  It took me 11 ½ years longer before I would find the courage to seek help with the women’s crisis center.  Through this time I became a master at the art of hiding bruises – making up to my son and daughter the fear they would feel when mom would “get in trouble”.  I lied and then lied to cover lies to so many people.  In fact, I had learned to hide and lie so well that when the truth finally came out it took another 8 years for my mother to finally witness my ex-husband admit that he had hit me in front of a judge and FINALLY believe what I had been through.  The story of my marriage is in and of itself a book, which I am very slowly working on.  It’s a pain that runs so deep I can only confront small pieces of it at a time which means my book will be years in the making. 

And now to the reason I want to blog today.  I’ve known about certain physical damage to my body from those years of beating.  For instance, I have permanent Eustachian tube Dysfunction in my ears because my ex would come up behind me and slam both hands over my ears to scare and hurt me.  It would result in busted ear drums and bleeding.   After so much of that, I began to feel pain any time I would go under water.  It was years later that I learned from my doctor what the extent of the damage was.  To this day I cannot go under water when I swim without pain and there are certain soft tones that I have trouble hearing.  The list goes on and on and each time I find something I deal with it. 

Yesterday the list got longer.  Early spring I decided to get healthier and began walking.  About two weeks into it, I began experiencing lower back pain.  Suddenly, a few nights later I had severe hip pain that worked itself away a few hours later.  Then I found I was waking up at night due to a throbbing sciatic nerve.  I finally made the decision to go to the chiropractor.  I go and he’s such a terrific doc!  He does x-rays, makes a few adjustments, tells me he’ll get me fixed up in a couple of weeks.  I go back a few days later to review the x-rays with him.  He is astonished at what he finds and I am immediately sickened by it.  First, I have spondylolisthesis.  It’s only grade one so it “should” be treatable.  You can be born with it, or it comes from acute injury.  I’ve been to a chiro in my teenage years and know that I was not born with it.  In my head I click off a “thank you” to my ex for the gift that keeps on giving but I say nothing to the doc.  But that’s the easy part.  The second x-ray gets put on the lighted board and my stomach turns and I literally say Oh My God out loud.  The doctor confirms I’m really seeing what’s there as he begins to explain it.  My hips are not only crooked by THREE inches, but they have been twisted inside my body.  He explains that he was glad I wore jeans that day and he had me keep them on.  Although my pants had been zipped and buttoned right at my belly-button like everyone else, the x-ray shows my zipper was laying almost on my right hip.  The doctor again says he was astounded.  He explains that before he can begin to treat me properly he needs to take more x-rays.  He needs to make sure there are no fractures involved because that will affect my treatment.  We sit down at his desk and he asks me if I know what caused this. 

BAM!  Here comes the wave of humiliation.  Here comes the guilt and the anger and the pain and fear of all that happened those years ago.  I tell him.  I see that he is deeply affected.  He sees that I am close to a breakdown.  We take more x-rays.  He explains that we must wait for them to come back, could I make another appointment for later this week.  I do, he gives me a pain medicine that is topical because I am allergic to anti-inflammatories.  I leave and make it to my car before the tears flow.  I call Brian; my husband, my rock, my calm in the middle of every fucking tornado, the only one who knows how to get me back to reality before I get to far out there.  I’m sobbing.  He begins to cry.  We cry together on the phone for 4 or 5 minutes and then I take a deep breath.  He tells me how much he loves me and asks that I hang up so I can drive home.  I do.  I drive home.  My mother calls to check on the chiro appt.  I lose it again.  Brian opens a bottle of wine and we sit on the deck for the next four hours talking it through.  He listens.  I re-live every emotion and painful memory that has been stirred up again. 

We get ready for bed and he kisses me goodnight.  All he says is “we” will beat this too.  I woke up this morning grateful.  Grateful for my new husband of almost 9 years.  Thankful that even though I feel I waited too long, I still got up one morning and dialed the women’s crisis center and got help.  I looked in the mirror and said – yep – we’ll make it through……and prove one more time to that piece of scum that I am a survivor.  As much as he may have tried to beat me down – I am a survivor.  I am the winner and he is the loser.  He will stand some day before God and justice will be served.  He did not take my life, nor my family.  My children have grown into healthy and happy young adults and we made it despite his efforts to destroy us.  We are the winners. 

C'est la vie Mother Fucker!