The defining moment for me
Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: Nov 2008
Location: back from the brink
Posts: 457
The defining moment for me
Often, it takes something really BIG to make us face things. Something really awful to get us to make decisions. That is what happened in my life at the time I decided "enough was enough" and I had to leave my AH.
Over the years, my AH and I have had discussions/talks about his drinking, I knew better than to argue with him or try to talk with him about it when he was drunk. It only made him angry... and me tearful. I'd wait until the next morning, or when he'd sober up to approach him. Over the years, I learned that it did no good to search for bottles to confront him with, or to threaten to leave — after so many times, those tactics just didn't work anymore. So, there was a period of years that I did nothing either way, I just ignored the whole "problem" and went on about my own life. That is what we are suppose to do, let the chips fall where they may, let the fallout occur. And they did occur. It didn't matter to him. He was on a course.
That course finally started to effect us as a family, threatening to sink our very boat with all of us on it. Everything bad that could have happened to him, did... and we suffered the fallout right along with him just from association. Things like lost jobs, unpaid bills due to loss of work, fights with relatives, friends, and I got so I felt much shame. I also became resentful. Silent, and withdrawn. We became an "estranged" living in the same house, but not as a couple. Both going on about our own lives. What a miserable way to live!
One day after a challenging day at work, I came home to find him wasted. I don't know exactly what occurred that day to make me change my reaction, but I found myself very upset at the discovery. Something in me just snapped, and I did engage in arguing with him about his condition. His denial was extreme. I didn't have to look for the bottle, it was right on the counter in the kitchen. I took it, unscrewed the cap, and dumped the entire contents out onto the floor. This enraged him, and within seconds he lunged for me, grabbed me by the hair, and began to scream obscenities. Fist cocked and a good grip on my scalp with his other hand, he shook me, yelled at me as you would a dog, and then threw me into the other room. I literally went flying through the air to the next room. We were the only ones home at the time, so no witnesses were present and nobody there to help me. He came after me again, hit me, kicked me, yelled, and was a madman. I recall the horror and how for a moment time stood still, and I had the thought that he just might actually kill me. Somehow I was able to get free. I grabbed my purse and ran out the door, jumped into my car and fled. On my way all I could think about was the look in his eye. Pure evil. This was no longer the man I knew, the booze and the evil had totally consumed him.
I called the police and filed a report. He was removed from our home. I later was awarded a permanent restraining order.
I tell this story, because I know drinking and violence go "hand in hand" and many of you may have experienced similar situations. This was the event that woke me up and made me face the reality of our situation and the decisions I know I needed to make if I wanted to survive.
I think back to that day, and am very grateful I am safe now. It was my BIG thing.
Over the years, my AH and I have had discussions/talks about his drinking, I knew better than to argue with him or try to talk with him about it when he was drunk. It only made him angry... and me tearful. I'd wait until the next morning, or when he'd sober up to approach him. Over the years, I learned that it did no good to search for bottles to confront him with, or to threaten to leave — after so many times, those tactics just didn't work anymore. So, there was a period of years that I did nothing either way, I just ignored the whole "problem" and went on about my own life. That is what we are suppose to do, let the chips fall where they may, let the fallout occur. And they did occur. It didn't matter to him. He was on a course.
That course finally started to effect us as a family, threatening to sink our very boat with all of us on it. Everything bad that could have happened to him, did... and we suffered the fallout right along with him just from association. Things like lost jobs, unpaid bills due to loss of work, fights with relatives, friends, and I got so I felt much shame. I also became resentful. Silent, and withdrawn. We became an "estranged" living in the same house, but not as a couple. Both going on about our own lives. What a miserable way to live!
One day after a challenging day at work, I came home to find him wasted. I don't know exactly what occurred that day to make me change my reaction, but I found myself very upset at the discovery. Something in me just snapped, and I did engage in arguing with him about his condition. His denial was extreme. I didn't have to look for the bottle, it was right on the counter in the kitchen. I took it, unscrewed the cap, and dumped the entire contents out onto the floor. This enraged him, and within seconds he lunged for me, grabbed me by the hair, and began to scream obscenities. Fist cocked and a good grip on my scalp with his other hand, he shook me, yelled at me as you would a dog, and then threw me into the other room. I literally went flying through the air to the next room. We were the only ones home at the time, so no witnesses were present and nobody there to help me. He came after me again, hit me, kicked me, yelled, and was a madman. I recall the horror and how for a moment time stood still, and I had the thought that he just might actually kill me. Somehow I was able to get free. I grabbed my purse and ran out the door, jumped into my car and fled. On my way all I could think about was the look in his eye. Pure evil. This was no longer the man I knew, the booze and the evil had totally consumed him.
I called the police and filed a report. He was removed from our home. I later was awarded a permanent restraining order.
I tell this story, because I know drinking and violence go "hand in hand" and many of you may have experienced similar situations. This was the event that woke me up and made me face the reality of our situation and the decisions I know I needed to make if I wanted to survive.
I think back to that day, and am very grateful I am safe now. It was my BIG thing.
Member
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 1,322
It took courage to tell that story--thank you. And it took moxie to be the strong woman that you are to survive that and still sound like a winner. Good for you. It always helped me to "stay the course" with finally calling an end to my marriage to an alcoholic by reminding myself that the man (my husband) whom I should have been able to turn to when I was scared of a bad guy, had BECOME the bad guy that I was most scared of. That signaled the end of marriage to me and rightly so. Congratulations on making it out, with scars I'm sure, but with a confidence that is apparent to me. 
Member
Join Date: Jan 2009
Posts: 1,888
Thank you for posting this. It reminds me why I can't take for granted the good days and to always be aware the bad days are never far off in the future. It's a progressive disease.
Peaceteach that's a great word "moxie" and it fits her very well. I'd love to have someone say that about me some day...."she's got moxie." That'd be cool.
Alice
Peaceteach that's a great word "moxie" and it fits her very well. I'd love to have someone say that about me some day...."she's got moxie." That'd be cool.
Alice
One foot in front of the other
Join Date: Apr 2009
Location: York, PA
Posts: 27
I experienced some physical violence with my AH when he was drinking, but usually nothing so extreme...although one time he did shove me across a whole room, and I fell into the stove...which resulted in a police call, etc...But I never left at that point because through all that, I didn't have genuine fear for my safety...never felt like he would go far (he never really did) and was stuck in an enabling cycle staying with him...the physical issues were least of my worries. But the day I actually did kick him out was after a physical encounter at his mom's house. He was completely trashed and wrestling around like an idiot with another guy at the house...I was in the other room, heard my brother-in-law shout "watch the baby" (referring to our son) right before baby howled at being somehow stuck in the middle of their fighting. I was a RAGING mother and went in there with fists ready (he is twice my size), pounded him on the shoulder a few times, told him to "NEVER touch my son again" at which point he grabbed me and threw me on the ground. I was pregnant, and he knew that. Now it wasn't my safety in jeopardy; it was my unborn baby. And always wanting to protect my babies, that was it. I told him he could not come back home as long as he wanted to keep up with this lifestyle.
Currently Active Users Viewing this Thread: 1 (0 members and 1 guests)
