At 9:12 am on May 21, 2003, the only peace I knew was the unsettling desire to die, the constant throbbing of the voice screaming at me to let go, give in, give up, give over my life to the darkness that consumed me. I wanted to end it all. To have the turmoil and pain and fear of living with an abuser die with me.
At 9:13 am on May 21, 2003, everything changed. Everything shifted and my world as I knew it ended. A police car drove up and I stood watching as two officers stepped from the car.
At 9:14 am I followed the officers into the room where my abuser lay sleeping and watched them arrest him.
They took him away and I sat in a chair in a room I did not recognize, captive in a body I could not feel. I was catatonic. Frightened. Terrified. I had 72 cents in my pocket, a few clothes and my dog, Ellie, who had journeyed through that four year, nine month voyage through hell beside me. She was my ballast but with his arrest, I was cast adrift. I clung to her fur, cried into her shoulders but still fear eroded my being, clawed at my heart, tore my world apart.
In my fear that this horror that I was enduring would be the rest of my life, I didn’t know where I’d find myself. I didn’t know where I’d come ashore. I only knew, I had run out of options. Run out of running away, of hiding, of being frightened and alone.
I called my sister and she and her husband came to get me. We drove the hour from the small town where I had been hiding out with my abuser for 4 months, into Vancouver. They didn’t ask me questions. They didn’t prod and poke. They didn’t dig into where I’d been nor share their fear and anger. They let me sit in silence in the back seat of their car and I was grateful.
My abuser was gone but still I felt the tendrils of his control lapping at the shores of my consciousness. I felt the fear of his absence from my life ripping at the delicate thought of freedom seeping into my mind. The enticement of peace from his abuse and anger seepped quietly into a tiny corner of my heart and began to take up residence.
It was the first peace I had known for months, years even. The first sense of peace I’d let in since meeting the man who’d promised to love me ’til death do us part, and then set about making the death part come true, sooner rather than later.
And in that moment of peace, sitting in the back seat of my sister’s car, Ellie beside me, I watched the countryside roll by and wondered, where had I gone?
It would be many months before I found an answer I could live with, but in the intervening weeks, I would dig deep into my psyche to uncover the truth about what had happened to me. In my digging, I would discover there was one choice I could make, every moment of every day — to be or not to be filled with peace — peace of mind, a peaceful heart, to claim a piece of calmness within my day.
Peace didn’t come cheap. It came with great effort. With a constant reminder of the question, “What do I want to create? Harmony or discord?” “Is what I am doing creating more harmony in my life? Or less?”
And when the answer was, ‘less’, I would ask myself, “What can I do to restore peace of mind, right now, in this moment? What am I willing to do to have more of what I want in my life?”
He was arrested in May. By July I was working, rebuilding my life. I had one focus and that was to heal myself so that I could help my daughters heal. And constantly I reminded myself, my peace of mind comes when I know that what I am doing creates more of what I want in my life and less of what I don’t.
And peace came. It drifted into my being like fog rising from the ocean shores upon which I walked at night with Ellie. It came. Dressed up in a gossamer gown of morning dew resting upon the delicate petals of the flowers strewn across the garden in a joyful disarray of colour. It seeped in, shrouded in the night falling sweetly upon the end of day. Peace came and I became filled with peace of mind.
And then, the phone call arrived. It was a hot summer’s morning in August. I was getting ready to walk to the Seabus that would carry me across the bay to the downtown core. I was getting ready and peace of mind slept unaware of the moment about to arrive. The phone rang. I answered it and listened to the disturbing words of a police officer.
“Conrad has escaped from jail. We don’t know where he is but we assume he’ll come looking for you… Just thought we should warn you.”
And in one moment, my peace of mind evaporated. My sense of well-being vanished.
I started to shake. To cry. To be consumed with the fiery fringe of fear lapping at my heart, sending its beat into erratic rhythm.
My mind began to race. What if… no way… but then he could…
I shut the windows. Locked the door. And still I feared.
I wanted out. I didn’t want to let go of my peace of mind.
I took a breath. Refused to be scared. I got Ellie’s leash and called her to my side. “Let’s go for a walk,” I said.
The thought of the great outdoors enticed her. She didn’t care about my peace of mind. She just wanted to go for a walk.
And so we walked. Out the front door, through the gate, down the street. A left and then a right, across the avenue, along the trail leading into the woods. My sanctuary. My respite. My peaceful place.
I took a step into the forest’s tranquil embrace. A leaf rustled on the ground. A twig snapped.
Fear erupted. Peace escaped.
Suddenly, behind every branch, he lurked. Every rustle of leaf was his footstep. Every step took me closer to a deadly encounter.
I lasted less than two minutes in the woods before I bolted.
Peace was no longer possible. Terror reigned.
I raced down the street, back towards my sister’s home where I was living. I raced with Ellie loping beside me. It’s a game, her upturned face seemed to say. Can we play?
No, I cried. No time to play. We’ve got to get home. Home to the safety of a locked door, drawn blinds, darkness.
And in the comfort of my room, lying on my bed, Ellie watching me from the floor beside me, I cried and I cried.
How dare he steal my peace of mind. How dare he erode my tranquility.
“He doesn’t have to,” a voice somewhere in the darkness of my mind whispered. “You don’t have to let him in.”
“It’s not my choice,” I cried.
“You always have a choice,” the voice admonished.
I took a breath. A choice? A peaceful choice? The voice was right. I always have a choice.
To live in fear or peace?
Which would I choose?
There is a story of a First Nations elder who tells his grandson about the two wolves that live within each of us. One is black. One is white, he tells his grandson. And always, they are fighting to gain control of our being.
“Which one wins?” the grandson asks.
“Whichever one you feed,” replies the elder.
I fed the black wolf that day. I fed it my hard won peace of mind, my sense of well-being, my comfort. I fed what I had worked so hard to achieve and still it was hungry. It wanted more.
I had so little to give. I could not give it what I cherished most.
I took a breath and let my breath feed oxygen to the white wolf where it sat waiting at the doorway to my mind. With each breath I stoked the fires of my passion to live with peace of mind residing deep within me, a calm, clear lake of tranquility resting at my core.
I took a breath and chose to let go of fear and step into courage. I chose to let courage drive fear out, as I drove clear of the darkness.
I claimed my peace of mind and stepped out into the sunshine of the day, confident in my choice to live fearlessly in the rapture of now. I took a breath and slid effortlessly into the grace of being free to choose more of what I want of my life, letting go of what no longer serves me.
The question is: Which wolf will you feed?
Quantum,
I dont know the answer to your question. I hear you and I feel saddness whenever i have to hear a mother is not with her child. I guess saying you still have your life and the possibilitiy that one day you will be reunited with them.
I was taken as a young child from my mother by my father. There were numerous court battles and hearings. My sister and I still remember being taken into the Judges private chambers and asked questions about our lives. Once, my father took us into seclusion with family friends as he was afraid my mom was going to take us from our elementary school. I feared my mom. The stories. The situation.
But when I became an adult. I had questions…. I had circumstances arise that afforded me the opportunity to reconnect with my mom in ways I never dreamed possible. So many lost years, so much pain along the way. But I did eventually reach out to my mom on my own, unfortunately six months before hear death.
I hope the mediator youre considering proves to be helpful and attempts to move mountains for you.
Quantum,
I have reread your post (on this thread). Just to make sure that I didn’t have a part of your story mixed up with another part of someone elses story.
There isn’t anything that anyone can possibly say to you, when it concerns the loss of your child. It leaves a hole in your heart….Nothing can fill up that hole. It is as though you have to learn to co-exist with a pain unlike any other you have ever before experienced. TIME does NOT heal all wounds. Not this one.
I am sure that you are exhausted. On all levels. But especially emotionally.
All you can do right at this moment is try and keep your son with you. You NEED someone to help you fight for this and that is why I suggested a mediator. If you have a crappy judge, and a crappy attorney, you need someone in your corner. I am not even certain that this is the answer to your current situation in court….But it is another avenue to try.
It might be better than going in there alone?
Maybe someone on here has had some experience with this and can shed some light into their situation with a mediator?
As I said before, I feel for you.
learnthelesson:
What you describe is exactly what the monster has done with my children. My son has broken away (mostly because he was thrown out of the house) but I take what I can get. He’s been with me for several months now and things are going well with him although he doesn’t seem too attached to me yet. He’s such a good boy and I’m so proud of him but I ache every time I look at him and see how much of the wonderful litte boy I’ve lost. He told me himself that he had to detach himself emotionally and I’m hoping that it can come back. I keep hanging in there for him, although he may not know it, he needs me. I’m not sure about my daughter thou, she’s different and I fear she too may be affected with the syndrome.
witsend:
I’m exhausted at all levels. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t breath, I’m nauseous all the time, with the runs for days and still hanging in there for my son.
I don’t have many hopes when it comes to finding a “miracle” worker. Luck has never been on my side. Things will undoubtedly get as bad as they can and then, once again, I’ll have to choose between worse and worst. That’s how it goes with me.
I thank you ladies for your support and understanding. I’m not sure what it is that I’m looking for, really. I feel so despondent and I’m always alone, always. I have no family and the few friends that I do have either don’t understand or have their own lives and their time for me is very limited.
Quantum,
Im glad things are going well with your son. Thats wonderful that he is with you. With my mom, two things happened..(and my story differs in that she suffered from a diagnosable mental illness) but the loss and separation is still the same…but what happened is when she was forced to be on her medication she really reached out to me wanting to know how I felt about her, was there anything I wanted to say to her…and I did. I told her I felt she abandoned me and didnt care, etc. (even though she was not well at the time – I still FELT all the feelings I did as a child and carried it with me through my adult years – I detached emotionally BIGTIME – to survive. The second thing that happened is she began spending her last few months living in the moment with me, her grandchildren and extended family. Once we talked about what we went through – we just started living in the moment and not bringing up the past or focusing on lost years. Again, we had to go through some tough conversations, but we basically just got to know eachother all over again from scratch. She was an amazing woman.
Remember you need to take care of yourself SO THAT YOU CAN BE THERE FOR YOUR SON. It would be overwhelming for all of us to be dealing with all that you are. You dont have to be looking for anything here, we are just glad you are here. In dealing with the effects of my dysfunctional relationship with the bad man – I also had to address the fact that I was fighting depression – I cant advocate enough all of us taking the time to assess whether we think we are depressed or not – and if the answer is yes to make sure thats dealt with first and foremost. HANG IN THERE!!!
When I pop in to read and I digest the wisdom and the support and love in your words to eachother, I am in awe.
For me, having a group of people who understood, who shared the experience and were willing to lend me their strength until I found mine was a life-saving gift.
For those who question, does it get better?
Yes. It does.
One day at a time. One step at a time.
My life today is far greater, far more than it was even before him. I look at those years as a gift — they brought me to where I am today.
Hugs to everyone. You are awesome!
Louise
Before I met my husband I was a strong person. I had energy, enthusiasm, and a strength that seemed never-ending.
Now I am a shadow of that person. I feel weak, lack enthusiasm, and my inner strength is burried deep somewhere inside. Many days I feel like there is a tiny filament … as fragile as a spiders web … holding me together. I worry that any slight stress will be enough to break that tiny thread and I worry about what will happen if that occurs.
I have always been able to manage my personal problems single-handedly. Now, I recognize that this trauma I have been through is too much for me to recover from alone.
I have reached out for help in so many places. I have looked to my doctor for help with my depression. I have looked to a psychologist … and later to an abuse/crisis counselor and advocate for help with my emotional turmoil. I have looked to social services for direction and referrals. I have looked to the law for help in rescuing my daughter. I have looked to an attorney for ending my marriage and to gain sole permanent custody of my 2 boys. I am also in the process of looking for a qualified and intelligent counselor for my children. … and now I have reached out to LF for support.
With my first post came a flow of understanding and support that I have found in no other place since I woke up and discovered the basic truth behind the misery I was in. Finally, I have found a place where other people truly understand what I have been through, what I am currently going through, and what lies ahead of me. Finally a place where other people don’t look at me like I am crazy and lost my mind.
This IS a healing place. This IS a safe place. I can feel it immediately.
THANK YOU everyone for your kind words, your wise advice, and your honest caring. You have given me a source of hope for healing that no one else has been able to give me. The understanding is what I needed the most right now. The knowing that I am not alone.
I will stay here and participate. At the moment, I am self-involved with my own turmoil … but someday I will be able to focus on others … and hopefully provide them with the warmth and support that I am now receiving.
How did I get so fortunate to find you? Was it luck … or is there a guardian angel that guided me here? Whatever the cause, I am happy and gratful for the tiny spark of hope that this place has given me.
Thank you all … from the bottom of my whithered soul. There is life in there … somewhere deep inside … and you have reached it.
I will be taking your advice to begin reading the archives. I will also be trying to participate in discussions as much as I can. I think it will help.
Kimberly
Kimberly – just a quick note. I understand. I have lost my spark as well and am desperate to get it back. I don’t know if we can or not but we can hold one another’s hands while we try.
So sorry for what you went through – please post more of your story when you feel able to. You are right – this is a safe and good place with people who understand and care.
Much love to you 🙂
About my daughter:
I can barely describe the pain over her loss. I brought this man into our lives when she was 4 years old. I DID THAT! The guilt weighs very heavily on me.
He raised her.
When she was a pre-teen, he began “grooming behaviors” toward her. While gradually separating her from a normal social life and from me … he began to cater to her wishes, hopes, and dreams. Later, he used this as a way to convince her that HE is the one who is supportive of her and that HE is the only one that loves her (letting her drop out of school, buying her horses and expensive clothes even though we didn’t have the money).
I found out from my son(s) that he has been having sexual relations with her since she was 15 (their earliest discovery). I was working 12-hour night shifts to support the 5 of us.
When I left him, I asked her if she would like to go with me or if she wanted to stay with him. She chose to stay with him. She is now 17 and considered a legal adult in the state where they live. I could not make her go with me, even if I had wanted to.
One day she sent me a “hate-mail” comment about how unsupportive I have been in her life. She told me that her life is only improving since I left. She told me that I had no intentions of offering to take her with me but that I had intended to abandon her. (Those sound like his words). Then she “thanked” me for stealing her little brothers from her.
After reading that mail, I felt as though she had sent a dagger into my heart and began twisting it around inside of me.
I do know that one day she will have to experience a pain similar to that which I am going through. One day she will realize what he has done to her. But unlike me, he has taken MORE from her than he has taken from me. He stole her childhood from her. He has given her a skewed perspective of right and wrong. Her first sexual relationship is abnormal. I fear that HER pain will be far worse than mine. I fear that once she realizes what he has done, it will occur to her that I was the one who brought him into our lives. I fear that she will always blame me and hate me and hate me for it.
Will she be able to reach out for psychological help when she needs to? Will she ever be able to have a normal and happy life?
I wish there was something I could say to her that would reach deep inside of her soul and touch her in a way that will get her to wake up to the reality … to give her a hint that what I say is the truth instead of simply dismissing me. How can I reach her?
There was a time when I was in the happy place that she is in now. She is the “center of his charming universe”. She is disillusioned … captive without realizing it. Back then, I wouldn’t listen either.
I want to save her NOW! I want to take her away from him, but my efforts so far have been ineffective.
To her hate-mail, I had only one response. It was “I love you no matter what you say or do. I will always love you.”
Later, when I began to believe that I had lost her forever, I sent her an email. It was short and simple. It said the 5 things that you should say to the dying. That is what was happening to her and I … our relationship had died before i knew what had happened.
I said:
“Please forgive me
I forgive you
I will never forget you
I love you
goodbye”
I did add a 6th thing. It was “You are always welcome here, no matter what happens”
I cried when I wrote that. It was before I knew that she has been having sexual relations with my husband for several years. Looking back at my letter to her … and knowing what I know about them now … I wouldn’t change a word.
I would appreciate hearing from anyone who managed to rescue someone from the grip of a sociopath. Surely all of the victims cannot be written off as losses. What did you say or do that reached them? How did you do it?
Part of me has given up hope of rescuing her … and part of me cannot give up. I do love her, no matter what.
I have to try.
Kimberly
midlifecrisis:
I am holding your hand. I hope my grip is not too tight.
Can we do this?
Many hugs and tears …. Kimberly
I escaped from a sociopth. He went to see his Mom in Florida. I finally went through his things and found everything packed and ready to go to his next victim. I was so confused at the time…why was all this stuff packed? Innocence.
He came back, made love to me…then when i was still deep within the relaxation of ‘love’…he started…..what have you done…who were you with…you gave me v.d.’ THAT was it! GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE YOU BASTARD!
Oh, he did….quickly…it was all planned. His stuff…my stuff that I never thought anyone would steal. I HATE HIM!!!