Someone asked me recently why I blog about what I’m going through. I stopped to consider this.
Here are the main reasons I’m sharing this journey:
1. Writing helps me both face, understand, and accept things in my life.
2. Sharing as a person who has been through an abuse situation allows me to reach out and touch others, and hopefully to keep people from this, or worse. The pain it takes to own it publicly is less painful than my heavy and constant concern for the safety and wellbeing of others in similar situations.
3. Communicating raw emotion and processing things out loud humanizes my pain, and does not let me run from it.
These are the main reasons that I am publicizing this journey.
Today, I woke up late. I scrambled to pull on my slacks, a dress shirt, my rarely-used blazer.
Ice on my car.
8:32-11:23 is a haze…
I remember that I walked into the courthouse, I saw him.
Shaking, in a corner, in two seconds.
Fast as I could.
In a ball, everyone watching.
I stayed there.
The security guard motions me to a chair, kindly.
Shake my head.
People walking by, looking.
Him, upstairs, looking.
The girl with a similar case from the last court hearing walks through security.
I breathe again.
We link arms, and we go upstairs.
I find my attorney.
He gently reminds me:
You won’t win this.
I left too soon.
Did I leave too soon?
I wasn’t waiting anymore.
Maybe I left too soon.)
See him. Relaxed. Like nothing is happening.
I’m shaking, violently.
Furthest corner, furthest bench. Edge of the seat.
She comes back and holds me, and I hold her when her him walks in.
Her case is open,
She’s safe, she breathes.
I’m a deer in the headlights.
Everyone sees me, I feel so small.
I try to be smaller.
Maybe they will all go away.
Case is moved to another court.
The attorney asks:
do you still want to do this?
I consider running.
I remember how many times I ran.
No more running.
I barely walk.
Maybe I can crawl.
The judge is my first judge. From last week.
My memory stops..
I remember tears.
Looking for a trashcan to be sick.
I remember the judge, his pity.
I remember many, many words exchanged.
So few words.
I know it’s over.
I knew it would be.
I thought I would be more afraid, when it was denied.
I feel courage.
I didn’t run.
I was small.
I was shaking.
I could hardly breathe.
But no running.
I stood up.
I faced it.
For the first time in a long time,
i begin to feel
I will be okay.
I walk out.
The guard catches my arm.
“You will be okay”.
I nod. I smile.
I say “yes”.
And for the first time in many months,
I believe it.
“The Lord GOD is my strength, And He has made my feet like hinds’ feet, And makes me walk on my high places”