So, here goes… I don’t know how
long this will be. I don’t know what the message is, but I get the peaceful
sense that it is about overcoming and persevering. As I listen to Rachel
Platten’s “Fight Song”, that seems to have been the theme of my life. Don’t get
me wrong; in most cases I wouldn’t have it any other way. But I suppose you’re
wondering why I feel this way, or why today is a big day for us. Keep reading,
I promise I’ll get to it…
March 14, 2010… Rewind 5 years to a
23 year old me, and a Monster that was 18 months. I had just been through the
nightmare everyone knows is inevitable, you know, the death of a loved one. My
Grammy passed away surrounded by those she loved most and who loved, adored and
cherished her. I held her right hand as she left our Earthly home to cross the
threshold of those Pearly Gates to be greeted by her buddy Joe, her siblings
that had gone before her, her parents, and all the loved ones (too many to list
or mention, death is cruel) who had gone before her. To then be held in our
Heavenly Father’s loving and healing arms.
My Grammy was my everything, she
was my best friend, my grandmother, my advice-giver, and she was my buttercup.
We drove each other crazy, but loved each other more than imaginable. I never
knew life without her until that day. I knew there was so much more to come in
my life. Knew that I still needed her, but her body gave out because she had
cancer we didn’t know about. She refused to have the dreaded colonoscopy that
may have saved her life and kept her here with her loved ones for much longer.
If you’re reading this and are of age for colonoscopies, I urge you to have
one. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for your loved ones. It may save
your life, especially if anything is present and caught early!
Not long after losing my Grammy I
had decided to try one more time (this is a much longer part of our story I
don’t want to get into today) with Monster’s father. We had split up when I
discovered he was being less than honest with me and was the source of some of
my health problems. I had moved home and had the opportunity to be with my
Grammy around the clock (a blessing in disguise really). When I had moved back
in to the home Monster’s father and I shared things were pretty incredible for
about a week and a half, maybe two weeks. But, unfortunately the good things
started to come to an end and I was suspicious he had gone back to his old
ways. I decided to just be careful and observant about the activity around our
house. I had bought a safe to keep my medications in and used it religiously. I
figured it would help ensure that Monster’s father got the better of his
addiction, instead of the other way around. Unfortunately he like most addicts
was a charmer and I bought what he was selling, hook, line, and sinker.
Around the middle of June I knew
something was up, I had no proof, but in my gut, I knew. I knew he had somehow
gotten ahold of my medications. He had somehow cracked my code, found the back
up keys, something. There was no denying it. My med’s were vanishing, and not
by me. When confronting him, he was verbally, emotionally, and mentally
abusive. Warfare I hadn’t been exposed to. I no longer had my Grammy to go to for
advice, my family was all still grieving the loss of our matriarch, friends
didn’t understand or were too busy in their own lives, I was alone, and on my
own. I did my best to keep conflicts to a minimum, took care of our home, of
our child, and tried like mad to take care of me. I was fading fast though. I
felt hopeless. I knew I was already a statistic, having a child out of wedlock,
I am disabled, and I was buried in grief, fear, and shame. I had no strength to
do the right thing, or even prove that he was doing what I suspected.
Life went on like this for another
three or four weeks. I was on autopilot, lost in my own mind, a shell of my
former happy and positive self. My light faded and I needed help. I went to see
a counselor. I sought validation for my fears and feelings, what I got though,
was more fear, validation and a heaping mound of motivation. The counselor
asked me one day around my 3rd or 4th session, “Brittany,
where is your son right now?” I replied emphatically, “He’s with his dad!” I
was annoyed that this man would question me with something so silly! “And what
are they doing?” “I’d imagine they went to get an ice cream or a smoothie.” Was
my retort. “So you’re telling me, your son’s father who you suspect is using
your prescription medication, who you already know because you’re smart enough
to know, is a drug addict. He is alone in your vehicle with your child. Do you
think your son is safe? Do you think your vehicle is safe? Do you think YOU are
safe?” OH MY GOSH!!! HOW DARE HE!! I was furious! This man who I’d seen only a few
times was grilling me on my family?! He left me with these parting words that
stick with me to this day, 5 years later. “If you bash your head into that
brick wall, who gets hurt? Do you hurt the wall? Does it change things? Instead
of beating the wall, build away around or over it, because you aren’t the one
who needs to get through it.”
After that appointment I was furious!
I kept telling myself that man didn’t truly know me, sure he had my medical
files, but he didn’t know ME! What he said though never left my mind… No matter
how I denied it, he was right, and I knew it. It impacted me so much. I knew
after that day, I couldn’t fix Monster’s father. I couldn’t love him better. I
and I certainly could no longer allow him to be heavy handed with our toddler.
I could no longer make excuses for the marks on Monster’s back, the bruises on
his cheek, his refusal to make and maintain eye contact. I couldn’t let his
father’s addiction run our lives. Monster deserved better, at the time I
couldn’t do it for me. I felt I deserved the punishment of an addict to protect
my child from the abuse; after all I failed my son by his dad being whom he is.
Little did I realize how wrong I was. Monster was still being abused; his father
neglected him unless he was disciplining him, and then came the physical,
mental, and emotional abuse.
We both suffered a great deal at
the hands of his father’s addiction. I kept hoping and praying that my best
friend was still in there. That someday he’d be back, but I knew as long as we
stuck around, all that he was harming us, our spirits, he was doing just as
much to himself. I knew what I had to do. I didn’t know how, when, or what… But
I knew I had to leave him, for Monster, for his father, for me.
July 27, 2010… Something woke me up
real early that summer morning, most likely the heat. Vacaville summers on the
side of town we lived, they are brutal! I cracked an eye, looked at the clock
and noticed a shadow looming close by. I quickly closed my eye only to open it
the slightest crack to peek through my lashes. As I did this… It happened… I
caught him… The one pill I had out to take immediately upon awakening, he was
taking ever so quietly, and carefully. He looked practiced, skilled at this… He
was replacing it with one that looked so similar you’d have too look closely
for the stamped numbers that identify it. I knew I had to wait. What felt like
hours, were just a few minutes… He finished his task, went into our son’s room,
said his goodbyes and went to fix his coffee to leave for work. I knew I had to
do it, right then… This was the opportunity I knew would come eventually… The
old adage playing on repeat in my mind, telling me what I knew, “Sh!t or get
off the pot!” I took a deep breath, checked my pill bottle, examined the pill
and shed a few silent tears before steeling my nerves. This was it, the proof I
knew was there, the proof I needed to build my strength and courage, to escape
the cycle of abuse, to be and do better for my son and for myself.
I quietly called his father into
the bedroom we had shared for most of the last three years of our lives. I
asked him to close the door so we didn’t wake Monster. His father asked me
almost immediately, “What? What’s wrong?” As I weighed my words carefully,
decided which of the rehearsed lines I’d give him… I said, “You have two
choices right now, choose carefully and wisely because this is the rest of our
lives waiting on the balance…” He waited pale as a ghost, I’m sure knowing what
was coming, running through his own practiced lines of charm, disarming me with
the same dimples our son still disarms me with… Only this time… I had found my
resolve… I had my answers, I had found my ounce of strength and it was now, or
never… “You can either sit down as you are in the living room while I call the
police and wait for them to come take you away for stealing my medications.
I’ll press charges and have an excellent case against you to keep you away from
me and our son… Or, you can pack your things, move back to your parents, and
get into treatment TODAY!” I toyed with calling the police anyway, I was so
angry, so hurt, so betrayed but we have a child together, and I loved him
enough to not destroy more than three lives with one phone call.
His father tried very hard to twist
things, as I knew he would. He blamed me, telling me I put too much pressure on
him. He had to escape it somehow. Being that addiction runs in my family, I
knew a bit about addicts, their behaviors, their tactics, not to mention the
goldmine out there that is the Internet. I let him pack his things and told him
to call me in a few days after we had a chance to calm down, but that I still
expected him in good faith to help with our son.
There is so much more to this
story… But on this day, five years later it is my hope that in spilling my
heart. Putting in words the feelings that so entirely overwhelmed and consumed
me, expressing what it was like to endure this, that I can help even just one
person escape from an abusive relationship, get help for an addiction, or be
the person someone in this type of situation can turn to for strength, help,
hope and support.
I didn’t write this to bash
Monster’s father. I didn’t write it to hurt any feelings, or for any other
reason than I felt it was time. Time to get it off my chest, off my mind, give
myself the freedom to truly close this chapter in my life… I know what I
deserve now. I know my worth more now than ever before. I know I’m strong, and
that I broke the cycle of abuse. Monster will not grow up being abused,
watching his parents fight, argue, etcetera.
With much love, hope, happiness and
strength and inspiration,
Brittany
& Monster
If you’re a victim of any form of
domestic violence, there is help available. Call the National Domestic Abuse
Hotline at: 1-800-799-7233
