OK, let's face it: this blog has been hijacked by the divorce and sundry proceedings. And you know what? I'mma go with it, because god knows I need a place to vent.
If you read back a few posts, you know how and when things went deeply, utterly south. South with a capital "S." Let me tell you what it's like to be in this deeply f*cked up situation, because it is truly bizarre and wrenching. I got into an argument with my husband, and he was so angry he said words that can't be taken back. Words that can't be forgiven or forgotten. Because words hurt, and sometimes words are a statement of intent. This person was the center of my universe, the man on which I hung the moon, which makes this situation so much worse and hurtful.
Today, I was served with affadavits from friends supporting my husband in this action. Boy, let me tell you, that hurt. A lot. Especially one of the names on that list, someone I trusted with my inner most fears and hurts. When a woman or man is in a domestic violence situation, they are unfortunately victimized over and over and over again. It never ends. It starts with the initial action. Next comes the call to the police where you explain the initial action and hope that the police listen to you and see your fears. Next up is a trip to the local Superior Court, where you stand in front of a judge and state what happened and hope your fear is enough to keep you safe. You hope a stranger will see your fear and agree to help you. Then comes the day you have to go back to court and defend your actions and explain your gut-level sense of fear to more strangers, and hope that they, too, will see your fear. Will they understand that you've changed how you live your life on a day to day basis? Will they see how you look over your shoulder and flinch when someone drives by in that same make and model of car? Will they see you, or will they listen to a funhouse mirror version of yourself, one that doesn't show you, or your fears? Because my life is now rooted in fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the future. Fear of what other people will think of you and what you did. Did you do the right thing? Should you have done something differently? And then your friends start to question your actions, and ask you if you didn't just overreact? Didn't you just get spooked? Doesn't everyone's significant other threaten them at least once? (That one was my favorite - I thought, "Jesus, I hope not!")
And so you continue to be victimized. And stigmatized. Because you broke that code. You spoke up. You said "NO!" And for that, you learn, people will shun you. I've never felt so isolated and alone in my life than I do now. Thankfully, I have a handful of good, true friends that have made it abundantly clear that they are my support system. That small handful helps balance the majority who either turned their heads away or told me to shut up and let it go.
It's my birthday this week, and I'm not celebrating. Not a lot to celebrate this year. But if you'd like to toast the Soctopus, please raise a glass this Thursday for all the men and women who won't back down, all the men and women who stand up for what's right. Please toast those men and women who fight on, in the face of adversity and scorn, because the Soctopus is one of 'em, and will always fight for what's right.