My Journey to Recovery

The language we use to communicate with one another is like a knife. In the hands of a careful and skilled surgeon, a knife can work to do great good. But in the hands of a careless or ignorant person, a knife can cause great harm.

Exactly as it is with our words. 

Source Unknown

We'd been married for 15 years when it happened.  It's something I never talk about, but I feel safe here.  I also feel that maybe by telling my story I can stop someone else before it is too late.  As I sit here now, 27 years later, I shudder when I think of what might have been had my friend not found me.  I might not be sitting here writing this.  I recall the feelings of hopelessness that drove me to such a desperate act to escape.

I met him shortly after moving to the city.  He was a part time actor/part time bouncer.  I tended bar.  We married about six months later.  The sick part of it is I KNEW beforehand that this man was violent, yet I was so desperate for love that I headed off to city hall with him despite the fact that he had broken my jaw only a month before.   I was a fool, I know that now, but at that time, I had already been beaten down by a verbally abusive mom, a father who made incestuous overtures towards me, an alcoholic husband, and a sex addict husband who slept around with any woman willing to spread their legs...and some of them were pretty filthy.  So you might as well say I was ripe for the picking.

Marriage to this man was hell.  The physical abuse ended when I struck him in the head with the phone when he tried to stop me from calling the police.  He was worried that I might ruin his face for his little acting career so he stopped being physical, but the verbal continued on and on and on, until I was nothing but a shell of a woman.  For 15 years I took it. 

Then one day I went to a psychic with a friend.  He was very accurate and told me things I didn't want to hear.  The entire session was taped, but the one part I still can't get out of my head:  "You have to accept the fact that there is no way out".  I walked out of there devastated.  He had taken my hope away, but I had wanted an honest reading and that I got.  He was right.  There WAS NO WAY OUT.  I couldn't afford to live on my own with my children, and besides, his uncle was mob connected, and my ex threatened to have me killed if I left him with the children.  

So one day when the kids were in school and my ex was out, I climbed up on the stool, got the bottle of rum down from atop the cupboards, and as I sat there sipping my drink, the tears began to flow.  Then, I put the cassette of the psychic on and kept playing that one part over and over again.  I was a mess when I went to the medicine cabinet and got my muscle relaxers out, brought them to the kitchen table and sat sipping my rum as I took one pill after another....all the while hearing the psychics voice.     

I remember going into the bathroom because I was feeling sick and falling into the tub.  I remember falling back down every time I tried to get up....and laughing hysterical about it.  I remember being on a stretcher and carried to the ambulance and the shocked faces of all my neighbors. I remember the doctor on the psyche ward.  "Call downstairs and see if they have room.  She needs a detox, not psyche."  And I remember being escorted downstairs. 

The seven days I spent in the detox were the first days of my new life.  I learned that I had been using alcohol to numb the pain, but to heal and become whole, I had to face the pain...and I learned that that would take time.  I was referred to a 6 month rehab program, but there were no beds available so I was sent home to wait until there was room for me.  Eventually the call came, and my ex tried begging and then ordering me not to go.  But I suddenly had found the strength in myself and knew if I was to survive and be any kind of mom to my children I had to go.  Then he came home with a quart of rum and tried to get me to drink it.  He knew they wouldn't take me if I wasn't 'clean'. 

He didn't win that night.  He wouldn't even take me to the hospital.  His uncle did and do you know what?  This uncle that I had been threatened with told me that I shouldn't go back to him, that he crazy, that it was time for me to start a new life.  And that's exactly what I did.  I moved on.  For awhile, I was always looking over my shoulder, fearful that he had found me, but as time went on I was doing that less and less.  And then in 1996 he passed away from cancer.  I wanted to feel sympathy, but instead what I felt was 'free'. 

Am I cured?  I don't think so, but I do know I am much stronger now.  I've gone through years of therapy and groups, and my self-esteem is high, but I remain overly sensitive and easily hurt. Oh, and before I forget, they psychic did tell me something else that stuck with me.  He told me he didn't know who, when, or how, but a Leo was going to come into my life and be a source of strength for me.  My current hubby is a Leo and from day one he has been supportive and loving. He changed my life.  

Was I trying to commit suicide that day?  I don't remember.  All I know is that I was blessed and saved for a reason...and that reason was to help others.  That's why I went on to become a substance abuse counselor, victim's advocate, and Interfaith minister....and that's why I am here now.  If any of the information I share on this blog helps even one person, it is well worth it.  Remember:  YOU DO NOT HAVE TO TAKE THE ABUSE.  NO ONE DESERVES TO BE HIT OR VERBALLY PUT DOWN.  THERE ARE OPTIONS.  BE STRONG.