One Year

365 days. That is exactly how long it has been since the day that changed my life. I had finished my last day with my previous employer on a Friday and was looking forward to starting a new job on Monday. It wasn’t a particularly eventful Sunday – and looking back it is clear that the events that started the argument that day were not the cause for my failed marriage.

Over a five-year span, I saw him become increasingly more and more angry. The smallest thing would tip him off. Any feeling I ever had – mad, sad, angry, hurt – slowly but surely was trumped by his anger to the point where I started to feel completely numb. I was immune to the terrible names he called me in a fit of rage. I knew my worth well enough to know that they were just names, and he clearly had other demons he was battling. I had become used to the holes he left in the walls, to every broken item, always something belonging to me, that he would intentionally break, determined to hurt me. Apologies always followed after he cooled down, but things were getting worse. Gifts and replacing the broken items did not mend the damage.

The argument spanned over the afternoon and into the night. It ended up getting so bad, that I was going to try and pack a bag to go stay elsewhere for the evening, however, he had locked me out of the master bedroom. As the argument started over laundry, I think I did not realize the severity of the situation, at least in his mind. Clearly something broke – something shifted in him and everything that ever bothered him for the entire duration of our relationship was all he could focus on. When I tried to unlock the door, he grew even more angry.

I will never forget the rage I saw in his eyes. The feel of the saliva hitting my face as he screamed obscenities at me, at the top of his lungs, before shoving me to the ground. I was so startled, it took me many seconds to realize my sweatshirt was pulled over my head and I was being dragged down the hall. Down the hardwood floor we had installed together, in the home we built. While his anger and yelling were always there, he had never laid a hand on me before.

He again ran in the room and locked it. All I could think about was how shocked I was that an argument over laundry had turned into this – and I had a new job to start in the morning. The entire evening he was angry then calm, and then angry, and then calm. I had called my mom after his violent outburst and she said that I should pack a bag and leave for the night. With my mom on the phone, I walked to the room and could hear him through the door, talking with his brother on speakerphone, assuring him that all he did was shove me. “I didn’t hit her”, he kept repeating. With his brother on the line, I calmly asked if I could come into the room to pack a bag. He was suddenly extremely calm again.

So calm, that for some reason I felt ok – something I am still not sure why or how I felt that way. I was not happy, and certainly not ok with what happened, but as it was already extremely late and I was starting a new job the next day, I just wanted to sleep. I told my mom I was just going to go to bed and hung up with her. I turned the lights off and lay down. He was sitting on his side of the bed, still talking to his brother and still calm. All I kept thinking was that after I got through my first day, we would have to discuss this. In that instant, I knew that I would not remain married to this man for long. He finally hung up the phone and we both sat there in the dark silence until I heard keys.

Then the keys were tapping against something. They were unlocking the lock box under our bed that held two handguns and a pellet gun. He grabbed them and ran to the hall bathroom. While some of the next details are a blur, there are two statements that I can still hear in my head. “You have to live with yourself for doing this to me”, and “If you don’t get the f*** out of this house, I’m taking you with me”. If my thought of a failed marriage wasn’t validated before, it certainly was now.

While some of the remaining details are blurry, and others extremely vivid in my mind, they are not near as important to the story. The one thing I will say is that I am so incredibly grateful for the three dear friends that showed up that night, in the middle of the night on a cold Sunday – they know who they are.

I went to my first day after a night of no sleep and after the day was over, I called my Dad. This was probably one of the most difficult conversations I have ever had. I knew that I would never feel safe in my home again. My Dad went over there with me to pack some stuff, and I never spent another night in that house.

Looking back, I can see just how miserable I was. He was not a happy person, and in turn, I had become the same. This was not me – nor who I wanted to be. I had gained about forty pounds in less than a year, I didn’t enjoy anything anymore, and it took this happening to point it all out. I thought I was making sacrifices, that there would be good and bad times, but when does one allow someone to regularly call them the worst names you can imagine and allow an apology rather than an effort to change?

Looking back, I realize I was just existing – existing in an “ideal life” of marriage and “happiness” to outsiders.

As I have stated before, this year has been the most challenging, yet most rewarding year of my life. I have choices, I learn something new about myself every single day, and I remember how to smile. I enjoy moments of self-discovery. I am joyful. I stand up for what I believe, and that includes there being no excuse for domestic violence. I know that forgiveness = recovery. I forgive him. Not because he deserves it, but because I do. I deserve to live happy and not carry the sad burden of the things that happened in my life. You can’t always choose what happens to you, but you can choose how you react. I have completely given in to my feelings, allowed myself time to be sad and mourn the death of my marriage, and I have learned to forgive. All this so that I was able to move on.

I am happy. I have lost about thirty of those forty pounds, and I am learning to love “me”. Learning to not be so hard on myself. To embrace my emotions. To stick with people who don’t let me down. I realize that while my marriage may have failed, that does not define me as a failure. I am no longer embarrassed.

365 days may have passed, but it only took one day to change my life. One day that forced me to change my mindset and choose my happy.

Some photos of my favorite memories from this year...

Shamrock run with my sisters.

 Sold my house.

 Met a Bacon-Loving-Southern-Gentleman (I know you don't like pictures, so this still keeps you a mystery) :)

 Made new friends and enjoyed the perks of my job.

Hosted 2 Faire De Rue Vintage markets with these lovely ladies. Third sale is this weekend!

 Ran Hood to Coast for my 3rd time.

 Rocked a fanny pack (more than once!)

 Participated in Urban Iditarod.

Spent time with good people.

Stood by one of my very best friends as
she married the love of her life.

 Went to Vegas with my little sister.

 Spent lots of time with my favorite little ladies (wish my other niece, Kerrigan, was in this photo, too!)

 Designed and had a freedom ring made.
What girl doesn't love champagne?
My daily reminder to choose to be happy and love ME!