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Papers, documents, bills and pictures. This is what your life consists of when you are about to enter a trial. Basically, along with all my other "baggage" I was carrying, I now was the new owner of an additional and quite massive briefcase! Papers with court dates, legal documents for signing, bills of property damage and physician visits and pictures of all the evidence. The fight was on and this briefcase proved it. The problem was, depsite what it appeared like, I was not a fighter. I was only learning to become one and the reality of all of this was a lot for me. I was about to enter the court room where my trial for domestic violence was to take place and although my briefcase showed I was ready, in reality I wasn't even close.
How does one prepare for a moment like this? How do you look your spouse in the eye, the one who claimed to love you but yet never showed it, the one who gave you the most perfect gift in the world, a beautiful daughter, and then abandoned you both on several occasions? How do you look at this man and be ready to point directly at him upon command to the question "Can you point out the man who struck you"? It was overwhelming and is still somewhat surreal as I plunk out these words on the keyboard. The man I loved at one time and the man I hated at others, all wrapped up into one. This man's life was held in my hands, the point of my finger could literally change everything for him...and for me. It was a huge responsibility and to be honest, one I was contemplating running from.
Days before the trial my emotions were all over the place. I was strong and confident and determined to find justice for my child and myself. I was weak and defeated and knew for sure I was going to lose. Then again, I was also terrified and wanted it all to just disappear. I cannot even count the times I went back and forth between quitting and fighting. Ultimately, my decision came from my Christopher, my current husband now. He was the rock, the one who lifted my head up and walked alongside me through the entire process. He was the one to pick up my one foot and keep dropping it in front of the other. To this day I believe if it wasn't for him by my side I would have ran. That was especially true on the day of court. It was on that day that he used his own strength to carry all of my other "baggage" so I wouldn't have to. It was only because of that lightened load that I could stand tall and walk in carrying that briefcase. He gave me my strength, he gave me my determination and he gave me my fight.
Court was about to be in session and scared or not I was going in! So down the long hall way and through those heavy double wooden doors I walked. I walked right into the silence, except for the sound of my beating heart, and into the mass of people and into the unknown. ( Insert the deepest breathe I've ever taken in my life here....)
Once again, I find myself somewhat at peace. My ex has once again been arrested and at this point there is no doubt in my mind that we are completely over. With him being in jail I now had complete access to my apartment and was finally going to be able to return and collect my and Alicia's belongings. I drove to the apartment, put the key in the door and turned it open and then proceeded to emotionally fall apart. The scene I entered into was complete devestation. Everything I left behind was demolished, I mean deliberately destroyed. Beyond that, everything that was Alicia's was ruined. This in particular ripped my heart out. As I have said from the beginning, "hurt me but don't you dare hurt my child" and that, in my mind, was exactly what he was doing, he was hurting my child. As much as this moment tore me apart it also completely affirmed my decision to protect my daughter at all costs.
I proceeded to go throughout the house only to find Alicia's crib outside of our third story apartment underneath a busted out window. Next to it sat her dresser, broken and in pieces. Some of her toys were broken and her clothes were missing, torn and ruined. My sweet, big fat orange cat , Mork, that I had to leave behind was gone and never to be found. There were holes in many walls and structural damage throughout. Dishes were filthy and piled up and cat litter and garbage were strewn all across the living room and bedroom floors. The hard part was that this disaster I was standing in was going to be MY responsibility. This apartment was in my name and therefore I was going to be held responsible for the damage. However, much worse than having to pay for that damage was the pain that was in my heart. Yes, the place was a mess, but despite how hard I tried, so was my life. I was literally standing in a room that matched how I felt on the inside, trashed, torn and crushed. The hardest part of it all was the meanness and the intentionality that this room displayed. It was done on purpose and it was evident. I was not only not cared about but I was clearly despised.
But...despised or not, I had some cleaning to do. Not only did I need to repair the damage, pick up the trash and clean my apartment. I also needed to do the very same thing with my life...repair it, pick it up, throw out the trash and once and for all clean it up!
At this point in my life I was finally beginning to see a glimpse of hope but as you continue to read my story you'll see that those glimpses of hope remained just that...glimpses. I finally decided once and for all to leave the abuse of my marriage and was now entering into unknown territory, a healthy relationship. Things were great and yet they were also hard. It seems odd that one would actually have to learn how to accept being treated well, however this was the case for me. Through the years I have found that it's difficult to leave even the worst of situations for something wonderful simply because the something wonderful is so foreign. The reality is, despite how great the new normal is, it is still new and therefore oddly difficult. Little did I know I was soon to be thrown back in between the worst and the best and I was going to have either choose to run away or choose to dig in my heels.
The imprisonment of my soon to be ex didn't last long and he was released to await more court dates. In the mean time he was living in an apartment under my name and still had many of Alicia's and my belongings which I needed to get back. He lived there so therefore he was in charge, yes I know, crazy laws. I contacted him to retrieve my things and set a time to come get them. I called Christopher to tell him where I was going and was concerned enough to have him call the police if he did not hear from me shortly. Upon entering the apartment it took all of 2 minutes for an arguement to break out and the next thing I knew as I was collecting some things I was hit from behind with a glass. At this point a fight broke out, despite him having a friend there watching the whole thing take place. I somehow managed to get away and get out the door and flee. I drove down the road and pulled over to call Christopher from a pay phone and he instructed me to come to his friends house where he was at. He took one look at me with a swollen eye and fat lip and called the police. I will always remember this moment..everything was crashing down. He was seeing the truth of my life, I was ashamed and embarrassed, thoughts of why I was even bothering trying to change were flooding my mind. To me, it was proof yet again, I didn't deserve more. I wanted desperately to just run away screaming and crying a sad "I told you so".
However, what happened next sent me into a state of shock.
The police showed up, took pictures, filed a report and I agreed to press charges. After the officer left, Christopher and his friend, in my mind, did the unimaginable. They picked up the phone, called my ex without him having any knowledge of who they were, and began to threaten him and call him out for the evil things he was doing. They passionately put a healthy fear into him and the moment they did that I could literally feel my power returning and my shoulders relaxing. For once in my life, someone had my back and I couldn't believe it! Just moments before, someone stood on the sidelines watching me being beaten and now Christopher and this new friend I had just met were defending me. I cannot put into words the emotions I had in this moment. I just knew for the first time that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be ok. I was no longer alone, someone was finally standing up for me. And boy, was I going to need it!
