The End is just the Beginning

The other day I was looking for one of the children’s birth records in a file and I came across a copy of an old phone bill. It was marked up with highlights over the same phone number again and again…my ex’s. He had called 38 times in one day. I had obviously filed the bill for my court records back in 2011.

Post separation abuse and stalking. A term I had literally never heard of until this past year. In my experience it was worse than anything I had dealt with while we lived under the same roof.

The phone calls were just the tip of the ice berg. I woke up to threatening and demeaning texts and emails daily. I began having panic attacks when returning home from work fearing he would be waiting outside, or worse inside. And my fears were not unwarranted.

On one occasion, I had returned to our family home while he was at work to retrieve some of my toddler’s items. I was in the basement storage room going through some boxed clothes of hers when he appeared at the basement door. He saw a bag of baby clothes I had moved and began suggesting I was taking them to one day have more children. I calmly tried to assure him that I was simply looking for some of Isla’s belongings.

He blocked my exit when I tried to leave and then made me swear on our daughter’s grave that I would never have children again. I clearly remember thinking in that moment that someone would find me dead on the floor in that storage room. I swore to whatever he wanted to hear. I made myself small. In that moment, WE concede to whatever will get US to the other side of that door and back to our child safely.

On another day, early in the separation, I found myself alone in our place of business together him playfully twirling a cake knife. We had owned a birthday party event space together, on that day the party and staff had left. Alex and I were cleaning up the space, when he noticed the family had left their cake knife. He thought it would be amusing to play with the knife, reminding me we were alone…intimidation and flexing of power two of his favourite head games.

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My mental health was probably at it’s poorest during the post separation period. There were days I didn’t leave my apartment save to take our daughter to school. There were also days I sat in the school parking lot to ensure he didn’t arrive at school to take her. Another fear that was very real. As it is for countless women.

Leaving is a courageous step, but most often staying gone is the hardest flight. It is easier to retreat then keep climbing amidst the threats. Why does she go back? Oh I know.

“Felt the reeling, done the healing, said the curses and prayers

When the fever turns a dreamer into a pathetic ghost

If he's killing you, I see you

I was patient zero” ~ T. Swift