Eleven years ago, I thought my life was over. My husband had turned into a very abusive alcoholic and drug addict who seemed to know my every move. The threats he made felt very real. He threatened to burn my parent’s house down when they were sleeping, he threatened to blow up my car and told me not to let my children ride in it, he smashed the windshield out of my car with a tire iron, etc... Jim was half Native American and threatened to take my children to the reservation. He told me I’d never see them again. I was 30 years old, severely depressed, and decided to write a letter to my parents and my children telling them I was sorry, but I couldn’t do this any more. I went to sleep in the bathtub with the door locked, and thought that just maybe I could drown myself when I fell asleep. I woke up in the cold bathtub and cried until I couldn’t cry any more.
The one thing that was missing from my life was God. I had lost faith in God. I was angry at him for “allowing me” to live this life, to let my innocent children witness such violence and craziness, for allowing him to shatter glass windows over my sleeping children in the dead of winter while he was drunk...where was God when I needed him? I began to pray that night like I’ve never done before. I couldn’t leave my children alone in the world with this man, and I needed His help and guidance. I went to sleep that night exhausted, but felt like God heard my prayers.
The next day when I came home from work my nine year old son Nicholas told me that their dad had left him alone all day with his younger brother and sister, who were four and six at the time, and that my four year old son had tried to run out into the busy street after his dad, who took off in the car without even looking back. He then told me that his dad leaves them alone every day, and that he told the kids not to tell me, because I’d be mad. I put the kids in the car and went to the grocery store to get their minds off of what happened. My son looked at me in the car, and he said “Mom, I don’t feel safe with dad any more. I think I’ m ready for him to leave now.” This was my sign from God. He unburied the strength that I didn’t know existed any more. When we went home, my husband had busted in through a basement window and was drunk, once again. He walked into the living room as we came in, and showed me the bottom of his shoe, and how he had stepped in something in the neighbor’ s yard . He purposely ground his shoe into the carpet, and then told me to clean it up. My son Nicholas spoke up and said “dad, I need to tell you something. I don’t feel safe with you any more. You need help.” Jim looked at him and said some awful swear words to him, and before I knew it I had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, opened the front door, and threw him right out and down the steps, and told him to NEVER come back, and that I was calling the police.
I took all of his belongings to his brother’s house and left everything right on the curb next to their trash. I filed for a restraining order and it became very ugly. He was arrested after calling 21 times one night from a pay phone down the street saying he was watching me. I filed for a divorce. It was close to Christmas, and I had used every bit of money that I had to pay for the attorney, who also practiced tribal law. He said that it was important to get the papers filed quickly because he could fight for custody and take my children to the reservation. Tribal courts could step in and place my children in Native American foster care for up to a year. It was the end of November when I sat my children down on the sofa, and told them that there wasn’t going to be any Christmas this year. I had to spend all of my money on the lawyer so that I could keep them safe.
