It's the day before one of my favorite holidays! Yay! I'm off tomorrow! Yippee!
I felt like I accomplished something yesterday evening by filling up most of a box with desk stuff and getting quite a bit of my desk cleared off and away. And I was Ethan-sitting last night, even.
I do have to work Friday, but I don't really mind. I get to leave early, so it evens out.
And I've gotten everything done that I wanted to get done today at work, and I sitll have an hour left to be here!
All in all, a good day.
However, while browsing around on livejournal, I stumbled upon this post, watched the pertinent domestic violence ad that was not allowed to be aired, and read the comments as well as the original essay. (Give the ad a couple of tries if you decide to watch it; it wouldn't work twice, and then it worked when I clicked. Might be a bandwith issue.)
Memories of Before:
Driving down a twisting road at breakneck speed while my ex spit hatred at me. That was one of the few times I didn't think I would survive. On a road where the speed limit is 35, going 90 in a Geo Metro is suicidal.
Parked in a public parking lot, on our way to eat out with members of his Knights of Columbus group. I said something wrong, he blew up, and I ended up sitting inside the locked truck while he raged outside and tried to kick open the truck door and break the windows. Later, he drove home and pounded on the armrest so hard that dust choked the air. That was the first time I actually considered calling 911.
Being pulled out of bed at 2am and dragged to the spare room while he cursed and screamed and threatened to beat me.
Watching as he used a claymore to shatter one of my ceramic tea mugs and being asked if I wanted the same thing to happen to me.
Being pushed out of the truck four blocks away from the house at 11pm with no money, and walking those four blocks home scared to death that I would be mugged. (I wasn't.) When I got home, he was on the futon, watching TV.
Hiding in my walk-in closet behind my longest skirts with my cellphone just in case he caught me.
Calling a hotline and being asked if I was afraid for my life. When I said no, the lady at the hotline told me to call back later. But then again, I seriously never believed that he would go so far as to kill me. Maim me, yes. Break one of my arms or legs, yes. Give me bruises, oh yes.
Praying that he would get into an accident and die so I didn't have to deal with his crap anymore, and then feeling guilty that I thought those things.
Things I am thankful for:
That I am out of that situation.
That I have a loving family.
That karma does come around eventually.
That I have a house!!
My kitties, my hedgehog, and my Mabel.
That my characters have yet to abandon me.
That I am alive, in good enough health, and that I've laughed today.
I felt like I accomplished something yesterday evening by filling up most of a box with desk stuff and getting quite a bit of my desk cleared off and away. And I was Ethan-sitting last night, even.
I do have to work Friday, but I don't really mind. I get to leave early, so it evens out.
And I've gotten everything done that I wanted to get done today at work, and I sitll have an hour left to be here!
All in all, a good day.
However, while browsing around on livejournal, I stumbled upon this post, watched the pertinent domestic violence ad that was not allowed to be aired, and read the comments as well as the original essay. (Give the ad a couple of tries if you decide to watch it; it wouldn't work twice, and then it worked when I clicked. Might be a bandwith issue.)
Memories of Before:
Driving down a twisting road at breakneck speed while my ex spit hatred at me. That was one of the few times I didn't think I would survive. On a road where the speed limit is 35, going 90 in a Geo Metro is suicidal.
Parked in a public parking lot, on our way to eat out with members of his Knights of Columbus group. I said something wrong, he blew up, and I ended up sitting inside the locked truck while he raged outside and tried to kick open the truck door and break the windows. Later, he drove home and pounded on the armrest so hard that dust choked the air. That was the first time I actually considered calling 911.
Being pulled out of bed at 2am and dragged to the spare room while he cursed and screamed and threatened to beat me.
Watching as he used a claymore to shatter one of my ceramic tea mugs and being asked if I wanted the same thing to happen to me.
Being pushed out of the truck four blocks away from the house at 11pm with no money, and walking those four blocks home scared to death that I would be mugged. (I wasn't.) When I got home, he was on the futon, watching TV.
Hiding in my walk-in closet behind my longest skirts with my cellphone just in case he caught me.
Calling a hotline and being asked if I was afraid for my life. When I said no, the lady at the hotline told me to call back later. But then again, I seriously never believed that he would go so far as to kill me. Maim me, yes. Break one of my arms or legs, yes. Give me bruises, oh yes.
Praying that he would get into an accident and die so I didn't have to deal with his crap anymore, and then feeling guilty that I thought those things.
Things I am thankful for:
That I am out of that situation.
That I have a loving family.
That karma does come around eventually.
That I have a house!!
My kitties, my hedgehog, and my Mabel.
That my characters have yet to abandon me.
That I am alive, in good enough health, and that I've laughed today.
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