Thank you, Internet

While some may say this is wrong - this sharing, this writing, this blog - I have to say that I feel part of one amazingly strong community.
I am beyond lucky to have such a supportive group of friends, IRL and URL.

Internet, you are saving my ass. Thank you for paying for the roof over my family's head right now.

I am without words...that alone says something.


Thank you.
Posted by gwendomama

http://gwendomama.blogspot.com/2009/05/thank-you-internet.html

I take a risk in not hiding. But the internet has held me up, and I owe you my truth.


We were fighting.
Verbally fighting.

I could tell you the gory details of what it was about, but the more I look at it, the less relevant it becomes. I will not subjectively share our disputes with the world. I will, however, tell only the facts.
In a nutshell, there was a fight about my work hours and the issue of someone perhaps needing to work more hours than he was working.
In a nutshell, the SIL threw a little tantrum about leaving early b/c we were fighting. Fair enough if it is all kept to adults. But it wasn't, and Supergirl was distressed about this (untrue) news. I finally told the SIL to stop fucking with my kid's emotions and feel free to leave or not, as she was an adult. But make a choice.

Apparently this combination of arguing and taking a stand had an effect on the SIL that rendered her a traitor to all womankind helpless.

The verbal argument degraded.
There was shouting. There were swear words. There was shouting over one another, there was not listening.
I removed myself from the argument; from the unsolvable situation.
I walked away from them.

There was a physical rush. He and his sister rushed me. He grabbed me from behind, crossing my arms behind my back and pulling them up towards my neck.
"STOP!!!!! STOP!!! YOU ARE HURTING ME CALL 911 HELP STOP IT!!!"

She then yelled, "You want to fight? GO ON, FIGHT!!"

He yelled, "WE ARE HAVING AN INTERVENTION HERE. YOU ARE BEING INTERVENED. YOU ARE CRAZY YOU ARE HORMONALLY IMBALANCED YOU ARE CRAZY!!!"
(remember the ovarian cysts? well, not exactly hormonally imbalanced, as the bloodwork results clearly showed...but nice to know any physical ailment will be held against me!)

Bubbles came into the scene right about here.
"STOP DADDY!!! STOP STOP DADDEEEEEEE!!!"

"LET GO OF ME LET GO CALL 911. YOU ARE BREAKING MY ARMS HELP LET GO!!! CALL 911!"

And Auntie watched. Watched Bubbles watch. Didn't call 911.

"DADDY STOP! DADDY STOP! STOP DADDY!!!"

"CALL 911!!"

The shouting went on in my ear. The screaming went on out of my mouth. Finally he released me or I broke away- I am not sure - and I spun around in flailing mode, hand outstretched and caught him on the chin and barely the left cheek.
"Don't you EVER EVER restrain me AGAIN!!" I screamed at him. I bolted for the door and the children.
Then I was tackled.
"SOMEONE SHOULD HAVE DONE THIS TO YOU A LONG TIME AGO" he screamed in my ear. Then he folded my arms behind my back again but higher.
He put me in full nelson.
Then folded my chin into my chest, doubling me forward towards the tile floor.
I didn't know until then that you could choke someone without putting your hands around their neck.
"I CANNOT BREAAAATHE!!!!!!!!" I shouted to his sister, the phone was right next to her and I didn't see her move.

"I CAN NOt breathe..."
I said but I had no voice left and she picked up my son and left with him. Without the phone.

I didn't know if she was finally getting it that my son should not be involved or that she was removing him from witnessing something worse. He wasn't letting go and she finally took him out...I was pretty sure that was...the end.

He dropped me on the floor and stomped away. When I could get up, I ran for the children and packed them into the car.
We fled from the crazy.

Then I called the police. They called back to interview me a while later, but my children were traumatized from the event so I asked if I could come to the station myself to give the statement without them.
It was late; they suggested I come the next morning if I was in a safe place.

That morning I received an email from him, saying that he and his sister had packed a bag for the kids and me and had stashed it at the top of the driveway for me to retrieve. I told him he needed to leave.
He said he needed to off himself. With a bullet.
I had heard this too many times before.

On that Easter morning I gave my statement in a too-bright room to a very nice cop dude.
I cried a lot.
I took off my shirt and stood in a tank top against a white board so he could photograph the bruises on my arms.


I have heard he feels terrible. He 'knows' it is wrong to physically dominate someone, BUT he was 'only trying to get me to stop'.
There is always, a 'but' involved in his mea culpa.



As my firefighter friend says, "There is only one way to get someone to stop yelling, and that is to choke them to death."



We are okay. We have a lot of support, and we are all going to be okay. Even he will be, someday.
Posted by gwendomama

http://gwendomama.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-happened.html

I replay what happened; sometimes the memory pops into my vision and plays involuntarily, sometimes I choose to review it.

I am drawn to recall a certain moment again and again. There was so much that happened in that moment; so much that could have possibly changed the outcome, for better or worse. That moment still looms like a suspended bubble in my mind, yet that moment is what actually brought the anvil down. It changed everything for me; or maybe it didn't. I will never know, because it happened so fast.
But I guess it might have gone differently if, in that split second, a different decision had been made. I guess I might have been able to forgive. And I wonder then if that would have been the right thing to do as well...because I would have been waiting for the next time.

He had me in a headlock, he was hurting me and scaring me, and I was screaming for help and fighting desperately to get away.
His sister wouldn't help, and I was feeling more frightened...it was as if she was waiting for something else to happen.
In that moment that he decided to let go, or I wrenched free (I will never know), in that moment that it took me to swing around and launch a pathetic smack at him, in the moment it took me to try and defend myself by telling him to NEVER DO THAT TO ME AGAIN, EVER, and in that moment that I then ran for the door to run away, and then....
...in that moment that he then took me down again, harder this time and more angrily, while charging himself with the crime of not having done this to me sooner.....
...in that moment where he then folded me to the floor like a straw...
...in that moment that he heard me lose air and my voice....

...choices were made.

A conscious choice was made to...do it again.
It might have gone differently.
Perhaps not, as it happened so fast. But I wonder.

In that moment, all that was difficult between us then became impossible.
What was worth saving, became no longer worth the risk.
What was once speculative, then became in-my-face-true.
What was somewhat scary, then became terrifying.

What was slipping away, fell like a stone.

He made a choice, in a split second.
He made it twice.

I have choices about my future. I get to make choices about my boundaries and I need to make choices for my safety. I get to decide these things.

Now if only I could get someone else's head out of his [expletive removed] faraway planet, we would all be moving forward, really. Not just pretending.
Posted by gwendomama

http://gwendomama.blogspot.com/search/label/abuse%20-%20abyss

I hate this bitch

Today I was told by a judge, that although it is obvious that there was a battery committed against me, he (the batterer) was offered a plea bargain which allowed to plead guilty to a lesser charge of 'disturbing the peace' instead of going to trial with the original two charges of 'battery' and 'child endangerment'.
So although he admitted to battery, and admitted to child endangerment, the charge was lowered.
He still gets DV (domestic violence) terms, which means there will be some court mandated counseling and a stay-away order, a small fine.
No trial.

I guess this is standard practice for a first time offender.
I have to tell you something. If it ever happens to you? Even just a 'tiny bit'? Even if someone 'just' shakes you or threatens you and doesn't do what you consider 'physical damage'?
Report it.
Do not hesitate to report it.
That was my biggest mistake. I didn't report the first time, or the second time. There were no bruises. Just fear.

5/14/09 EDITED TO CLARIFY HERE:
No, I am NOT comparing myself to a Holocaust victim. Context, people.
Former Dh and his sister's mother IS an actual, real, live Holocaust survivor. She is an amazing woman, however her own ghosts have certainly influenced her parenting and survival in this lifetime. I have real, genuine empathy for their family, as second generation survivors of the Holocaust.

    * Industry: Education
    * Occupation: who's askin?
    * Location: California

About Me

Failing at keeping expletives to a minimum while raising my two live children, and trying to come to terms with the death of The Other One. I have an itty bitty obsession with food. In a good way.
When you open your eyes underwater, do you ever worry that you'll drown?

When you wake up in the middle of the night and you think your life is all a dream, do you ever worry that it is all real?

http://www.blogger.com/profile/08439664476465264089

I HATE HER STUPID FACE.
I don't know why but I do. Her blog is on the first page of google results if you type in "Thank you, internet" and reading her moaning just enraged me

Stupid-face hate?  I admit my role.

thanks for all the traffic!  and nice to know you hate a stupid face of someone 'moaning' about abuse.  is very insightful.

>>10
Lies. You're not here

I am very much here - even a fucking headlock can't stop me, big boys.

>>12
Not believable, I don't think she would have cursed. Also she wouldn't have known how to get here or even that anyone was sent from here, I doubt she has access to the blogspot weblogs

Why would you write a blog about this bullshit? No one wants to read about that. No one cares about your mongoloid children or your "struggle" against "abuse". Women make me sick. Let's all throw money at this whore.

what a gay blog