Last week I left work at noon; barely able to get to the car without the waterfall of tears starting. The tears overtook me quickly. Looking back, I probably had less than two minutes from being into anxiety mode to full melt down mode.

The tears flowed and my body quivered as I drove myself home. I had been three years since my body gave into my PTSD so strongly. Curling up in the fetal position in my chair, it didn’t take me long to figure out what was happening. My coping skills weren’t working and my PTSD was once again controlling my reactions to my world.

Another 4th of July. Another painful weekend. For me, in addition to July 4th, I find Thanksgiving and Christmas holiday seasons painful. 

It's been 12 years since I separated from my abuser. It occurs to me that he's not bothered by the painful memories at all. Nope. Chances are if he does think about July 4th holidays that we were together, he probably remembers them as great times. It's truly shocking that the pain my abuser put me through can still impact my world so many years later.

Late last month I spent a weekend with an awesome group of domestic violence survivors; we were getting away at an extremely powerful retreat put together by Called to Peace Ministries. What a lovely group of women!
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During the weekend, while I was talking to a small group of women, I mentioned I was a retired Lieutenant Colonel who spent 21 years on active duty. Having left active duty 12 years ago, my hair is now considerably longer and my frame has added a few extra pounds. I am definitely softly spoken now and prefer to stay in the back ground.

​So many non-victims that I share my abusive background with can’t believe the horrific things my abuser did to me. But what I don’t believe I do a good job at describing is that my life continued on as I was being victimized.
 
During the five years we were challenged with our daughter’s cancer, and subsequent bone marrow transplant, the abuse increased 100%. Literally, I remained bruised from her diagnosis at two years old until I separated from my abuser five years later. My abuser couldn’t handle the pain, suffering, and possible loss of our daughter so he took it all out on me. Deep down, not unlike the increased abuse I suffered with the birth of our first child, my abuser definitely didn’t like my being distracted and not completely focused on his wants and needs. I specifically remember one extremely painful beating I received due to my being more focused on our daughter and ignoring his needs. Those of us who suffer abuse know exactly what I am talking about. 

​Even after years of counseling and diligently working on my recovery from my domestic abuser, I fell into a dark hole of darkness recently on Thanksgiving Day. There is something deeply hiding within my subconscious during this holiday. Although I prepared myself in advance for the looming anxiety of this day, I was once again caught off guard by the holiday triggers which overshadowed this day for me.

Words can’t describe the how horrible the first Christmas was for me without my children. Even though this was 10 years ago, I remember the stinging pain as if it had occurred yesterday. As I ponder writing about suggestions on strategies to get through this type of event easier, I am left with very little to suggest that is different that the other strategies I have written about before.
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What I do know is that it took me years to find happiness during the Christmas holiday season. If you are where I was 10 years ago, please don’t be to hard on yourself. I have concluded there are just some things in my past that are going to take longer to heal than others.

Instead of living for the moment, I spent the first few years of being a single mom hoping and praying that I could get through the day. There was always so much to be done while raising my three little children. My head was constantly racing prioritizing what needed to be done versus what was going to be put off till tomorrow. Driving my children to their events, homework, dinner routine, laundry, and cleaning the kitchen often sent me into a spiral of tears.
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I remember wishing the hours and days away. My days seemed to follow the same routine. Waking up, I dreaded getting everyone out of the house in the morning. I fretted knowing that at any moment one bad comment would send the children into a stubborn, I am not moving stance. As soon as I arrived at work, I was wishing my work day would end as soon as possible as there was so much to do. Our dinner and evening routine almost always overwhelmed me as there was never enough time to do it all.

For many of us, it’s being brought to the brink of death that provides the strength for us to leave our abuser. For others, we remain in our situations, wishing for the happier days to return, until the children start sounding like our abuser’s and question why we are not doing what we are being told to do. Regardless of what our reason(s) are for leaving our abuser, the significance of the decision is monumental. It signifies that the door to our denial surrounding domestic violence is about to be opened, and the journey to domestic violence survivor has “officially” begun.
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With denial, I knew in my heart what was truly going on, yet in my head, I could suppress these horrible feelings and believe them not to be true. Denial allowed me to reject the truth of what was going on in my marriage.  My realization that my world was not going to change was a pivotal point in starting my recovery.  At these moments, I had to realize that whether I wanted to or not, I must now make drastic changes in my world.  I had to start accepting the reality that I could no longer remain in my current situation anymore. The changes had to start now or I would die.