My heart stopped. I knew my former husband was either dead or again had robbed and ended up in jail. Hands shaking, heart thumping, I made the awful phone call.
My husband’s words hurt worse than fists. I endured constant emotional abuse until I finally saw through him, when he left me at my father’s funeral.
My husband’s jealousy and porn addiction quickly spiraled out of control, but when I turned to counselors and church for help, I was met with derision.
My fairy tale romance fell apart less than a year into our relationship, but I married him anyway. After suffering abuse for almost a decade, I found freedom in an unexpected place.
I experienced unfathomable abuse as a child. Now that I have children of my own, I’ve had to face the darkness in my past all over again.
Seeing the way my husband disciplined our sons made me realize something was very wrong. By the time I knew we had to leave, I was so trapped in his lies I didn’t see a way out.
I learned from a young age that mistakes, even simple mistakes on a homework assignment, equaled pain. I feared my father’s hands until I filled my own with love.