The Day I Became The Watcher

Someone in my life was awaken (awoken?)  in the middle of the night by a fist slamming into their face while they slept.  The fist belonged to the person they live with, the person they were going to marry.

I got the phone call later that morning with just the briefest of details, basically fist, face, middle of the night.  That was just about the extent of coherent thoughts they could put together.  They knew decisions, BIG decisions, and a lot of them needed to be made.  They also knew that their world was no longer familiar.

This isn’t about them.  Their story is not mine to tell.  This is about me, about how I became what Britt terms A Watcher.

I have made it no secret here, and it’s no secret to anyone who knew us, that my marriage to the Drama Tweens’ Dad was not a good marriage.  I can step back and take responsibility for my part of it now, I was undiagnosed, therefore unmedicated bipolar.  I suffered PPD after both girls, I was a mental mess.  Our fights were epic.  I own my part in it.

One fight in particular was bad. We were arguing over whether a bill was paid or not.  Instead of just showing him a copy of the check I wrote to pay it, I argued and fought and decided this was the perfect time to prove to him he didn’t trust me.    My word should have been enough.

The fight escalated as our fights were known to do, and he started punching walls, and breaking my things, specifically my kitchen chairs.  So I picked up a jar candle and smashed the glass door on his gun cabinet. (hindsight says not the smartest thing to do). Without a moment’s thought, he slapped me across my face.

I grabbed the girls and went to the police department and filed a complaint. And then? I went to my best friend’s house.  She was married to a police officer at the time.  I knew we’d be safe.

The police picked the girls dad up, took him in, and released him shortly thereafter.  He went to his brother’s house for the night.

I spent that night making plans, I’m going to leave him. I’ll take the kids and go to my mom’s (She had Zero room for us at the time but I didn’t care).  I’ll file for divorce.  I’m done.  I’m taking this, and that, and this, and that and that will show him.

The next day the girls and I went home.  He called, apologized, wanted to see the girls.  I agreed to meet him at the city park.  When he got out of his truck, the sunlight hit his wedding band, and the drama of the night before was forgotten.

I forgave him on the spot, he came home with us that afternoon.  All of my plans to leave, to divorce him, forgotten.

Our marriage wasn’t any better after that.  We still fought. Things still got broken.  I am not proud of it.  But the point is, I had always said “If anyone ever hits me, I’m out of there.” only to find out when it was crunch time? I stayed.

I offered my friend all of my support, I offered a safe place to stay, a safe storage solution.  I listened with understanding.  I did all they would allow me to do. And I knew it was all surface dressing.  Only they could do the hard work.

Nothing has been decided.  They are just now to a point where they can function during the day, but long-term?  They can’t comprehend anything beyond today.  Their future, as they saw it, no longer exists.

And I sit and I wait and I watch, and I keep my doors open,  knowing it could be a long time before they are ready to walk through it.