*** noun 1. a disposition or tendency to look on the more favorable side of events or conditions and to expect the most favorable outcome. 2. the belief that good ultimately predominates over evil in the world. 3. the belief that goodness pervades reality. 4. the doctrine that the existing world is the best of all possible worlds.*** <<<--- RIGHT?! How true is this about me?! :) ... anyway ... I have always been this way for as long as I can remember. I've never been one to whine and complain or moan and groan or bitch and mope ... I truly look at the bright side of everything, my cup is always half full and I have a hard time grasping the fact that there really is evil in this world ... which is EXACTLY why if I look at a moment in life where being dead is the only answer, it must be a pretty significant moment, which leads me to this blog post.
There are two times in my life where I honestly would have chosen death over what was happening to me - two moments when I was so lost and bound by something I couldn't fathom, that not living seemed like the only option - I know that in these moments if I would have been alone at the time I wouldn't be living today.
That first moment ...
Over the next two years there are so many things that happened, but I truly want to keep this blog post focused on this one moment ... trust me, I'll get to those other events over the course of time :) Let's just say I found myself in an extremely abusive relationship. All types of abuse were involved, but the "brain abuse" (what I'll refer to as the emotional, verbal and mental abuse) seriously f*cked me up and to this day continues to keep f*cking me up. Most of the time now days I can catch myself when I get in my head and think I'm ugly or worthless or stupid or worthless or fat or worthless or unloved or worthless (if you can't tell, worthless is something that came up a lot) - but sometimes I can't catch myself and I end up being a crazy person for a day or two allowing these thoughts to consume me ... when you deal with "brain abuse" it doesn't matter how strong you think you are, these thoughts are fed into you daily, hourly, and even by the minute and something I know is that if you hear something long enough eventually you start to believe it.
Now, let's go all the way back to December 2003 ... I'm ONLY 17 years old; this was a big year for me! I had attended my Jr. Prom in April, graduated high school in May, had a baby in July and gotten married in November. All of those things would usually be amazing memories in a "normal persons" life, but being in the place in my life that I was in this time, I wouldn't quite use the word "amazing" for myself ... At this point I've endured the abuse for two years. When I got pregnant I honestly thought that it would change Joe and we'd have this 'perfect' relationship, but nothing ever changed him. I married him because, A.) I thought it was the "right" thing to do considering we had a child together and B.) because once again I thought it would change him, but as I said before, nothing changed him. On this particular day, Joe was working at his family farm until late, and I had decided to go to the local wrestling matches with my two amazing parents and my sweet baby boy. My parents had dropped me off at home that night after the matches were over and I walked into my house to get ready for sleep time ... I walked into a home that looked like it had just been raided, ransacked and robbed!
All of the picture frames on the walls, shelves and TV stand had been broken and all over my face on all of the frames Joe had written with marker words such as "slut" "whore" "cunt" "bitch" ... and whatever else ... these are just the ones that stick in my mind. Sorry for the verbiage, but we're all adults. Some of the frames were on the floor as if they'd been thrown and some were just dangling on the walls, plants were tipped, furniture was out of place, broken glass was everywhere, it was complete chaos. I knew that Joe's truck was home, which meant he was probably home. I opened the bedroom door and a fume of alcohol came out with the air. Joe was passed out on the bed. I'm gonna go ahead say that Joe was/is an alcoholic ... I'm not a doctor or substance abuse counselor and I can't diagnose him, BUT I have learned quite a bit about alcoholism and addiction and I do know what being powerless and unmanageable look like ... He was in his farming gear, I can remember his stupid chaps ... Joe is probably the reason I don't care much for farming or cowboys to this day. I just wanted to get my baby in his crib and go to bed and worry about everything else the next day. Joe was laying sideways on top of the bed. I gently started moving him so I could climb into bed and crash; his stupid chaps got stuck on my comforter and ripped it (maybe that's why I hate chaps lol). I got him moved and went back into the living room to get my baby out of his seat to put him in his crib when low and behold Joe stumbles out of the bedroom ...
"Where have you been slut" "You've been out f*cking around" "You're cheating on me" "I know you've been with your boyfriend" "You're a whore" "You're a cunt" and on and on and on and on (to this day I feel like he thought I cheated on him all the time because he was cheating on me, but I'll never know) ... I hold onto my baby tightly, defending myself, begging for him to stop, the look in his eyes is evil, like he's been consumed by something not natural. I've been in some scary circumstances with him before but this one takes the gold. I run to the phone to try and call my parents, he grabs the phone from me, grabs me by the hair and starts slamming the phone against my head ... keep in mind that this entire time I'm holding onto my baby boy trying to protect him ... I beg and plead for him to stop, it just gets worse ... somehow I end up on the ground, he's dragging me by my hair to the front door, kicking us out in the cold night of December winter ...
THIS is the moment ... one of the two times in my life that I truly would have rather been dead then deal with the pain, the heartache and the broken life I was living ... I got in my car, baby boy in my lap, drove to the Arby's parking lot across the street to be safe from him and I broke down. I sobbed and I sobbed and I sobbed and I held onto Ryker for dear life. Probably for about 3 minutes I planned my world escape in my head. I'd take my baby to my mom, tell her I was going to go calm Joe down and instead slit my wrists in my car; I figured it'd be the least painful. << I know this sounds totally melodramatic, but seriously, I was going to do it ... I had finally calmed down enough to drive to my moms. I looked down at Ryker and he made eye contact with me ... he smiled, dug his head into my chest, pulled away, looked up at me again and smiled, then he reached up and touched my lips ... I'll never forget that moment to this day. He saved my life. My sweet 6 month old baby saved my life. He loved me. If I didn't think I was worth living for, I knew that Ryker was worth living for. In this moment I knew that I could, and I WOULD, endure the name calling, the brutality and the accusations that Joe did or said to me in order to make sure Ryker had the greatest life ever. I would protect my baby and teach him the things he needed to know to grow up and be the kind of man Joe wasn't. If nothing else at that time was worth living for, my baby was ...
I went through moments like this for another 14 months (over 3 years total) before I found the strength and the courage through my family to finally leave him. Like I said, there will be lots of "Joe posts" due to the fact that he set the stage for who I would be for the rest of my life, but this one was significant. I don't know what was going on that day that made me feel this way ... probably a build up of having to deal with his shit and that evil look into his eyes ... all I can think about it now is what in the f*ck was I thinking?!! So many times I think to myself that I can't believe I wasted more than 3 years of my life on this man - but then I remember that it was not wasted ... I learned so much about myself, about who I wanted to be and who I could be, I learned how I never wanted to be treated, I learned the type of man I did not want to spend the rest of my life with, I learned that I was strong, I learned that I was smart and loving, I learned that I could not be defeated, I learned that I will always prevail regardless of the circumstances set in front of me, I learned that I was meant to be a mother ... but most of all, I learned this ... Everything will be okay ;)
After the love of my child finally brought me back to my senses that night, I kissed his forehead and whispered to him "Everything will be okay baby boy" ... in this moment I realized that what I had said is completely true and I believed it whole heartedly, I believed it so much I had it tattooed on my body a few years back :)
Everything will be okay in the end,
if it's not okay, it's not the end
Loves, xoxo