Saturday, October 24, 2015

Being Thankful ~ Here Comes November!

Earlier this month, an online friend wrote to tell me that she planned to publish a month of daily posts --30 Days of Thanks-- on her blog for November. She asked permission to mention me in one of her posts and I was more than happy to give her the go ahead.

Being mentioned in a gratitude post is a "no brainer" -- Right?

Friday, October 23, 2015

I'm okay now, but... (by Nora Leigh)



I made a vow to myself before I married that if he ever hit me or took a drink of alcohol, I was out of there. No second chances. 

I made this vow because abuse had been a part of my young life. My mother had been abused verbally and physically. My younger brother and I had been verbally abused. I had been sexually abused.
Abuse was not part of my earliest memories. I remember happier times when Dad would tell me a story, call me "Sugarfoot" and blow on the bottoms of my feet while I squealed in delight. He would help with milking the cows and goats. He would never say anything bad about Mama’s cooking. He would take us places and buy us a Coke or a popsicle. Sometimes he would take all of us to the cafĂ© in town. At the end of the day, he would sit down after dinner and drink one beer. When Mama went downstairs after reading me a story and tucking me in, I would fall asleep to the comforting drone of voices from the rooms below and the tinkling creek across the road. I was safe. I was secure.

Saturday, October 17, 2015

God's Will is Not Abuse


An excerpt from THROUGH MY EYES...
"There had been many times before when I felt like I was at the end of my rope, but this was different. I was dangling by a thread. I was forty-three years old. I had spent almost twenty-seven years beating my head against a brick wall. And at that moment, it felt like I had wasted the best years of my life on a man who was not even my friend. I began to weigh my options carefully. I was fearful of striking out on my own. I wasn’t confident. I wasn’t self-assured. I was flat out scared to death. And I wasn’t sure what God expected of me. But there were a few things I felt certain of. 
Dennis was more impossible to get along with now than he was when I married him. And he remained completely unwilling to look at himself or examine his priorities. Everything was always someone else’s fault—usually mine. He had sent an intentional message that I didn’t matter by tearing up the fourteen pages (of documented abuse and neglect) he vowed to keep forever as a reminder of how his behavior made me feel, which was extremely significant to me and powerful evidence that change would never happen. I believed that staying with Dennis could potentially shorten my life because of the toll the heavy stress was taking on me physically. I knew I was about to hit midlife and menopause. I knew there would be no compassion if I struggled the way some women do and I couldn’t imagine what that would be like as his wife. I concluded that if the marriage was hopeless, no matter how hard it was to start over at age forty-three, it would be easier at forty-three than at fifty-three. I couldn’t change the years I’d already given up, but I could refuse to throw away the next ten..."

The decision to leave is a difficult one no matter how many years you've invested in a marriage.