It still shocks me to think that he said, during the midst of a complete breakdown, “It’s OK to have a pity party now and again”. There was a total lack of compassion and understanding. How could he not understand, with all of the information that was given to him during our marriage and family counseling sessions that a pity party was far from the problem? I cried and pleaded for understanding as to the depth of my ex-husband’s anger. He knew about the Department of Social Services, and the fear. He knew about the loss of control and his anger. Yet empathy was at a complete loss.
I was even told in retrospect that he thought that I was making a pass at him. Where in the world we live in, could he possibly think that? I was twenty-one. He was my pastor that I craved guidance from, and I was losing my mind. I was delusional and trying to explain a picture of a cross that I had colored on my basement floor to him. I was coloring this picture the night before when I was searching for guidance and answers as to the direction of my path in the Bible. My Bible was located upstairs and my coloring was on a cold concrete basement floor, so the sweat from running up and down the stairs could be felt that night. My mind was beyond lost, yet would I even have the capacity to make a pass at him that day when explaining my picture? Now who was the crazy one?
My only answer that I found that long torturous night of madness, when searching for guidance was that, if the sun came out, I would go to church. If not, I would stay at home. Brilliant, huh?? Then the response that I got while going to church was disregard to my severe depression, and complete lack of awareness to the beginning of my loss of reality.
Previously I was told to be submissive to my ex-husband. I had to follow the Bible and the teachings, so though there was ignorance, anger, and lack of respect for me and the children, I had to follow these teachings. Submissiveness – not questioning. My mind could only tolerate that for so long until it began to twist. I could no longer be the submissive mouse that was quiet during outbursts and said to the children, “Listen to your father”. Dear God, how much could be taken?
Yet it was my pastor that was my teacher and helper during these times. The DSS even allowed him to take over the counseling sessions after they finished their weekly inspections of care-taking observance, to which my ex-husband was never a part of. It was my ex-husband’s hand that caused the havoc, yet I was left to pick up the pieces, because he worked. Ha!! And my pastor was going to guide us to the next step of recovery for our marriage, our children’s welfare, and to the end of the abuse that was taking place. What a messed up plan. What a messed up time. And I was the one who was categorized as mad and mentally ill with a problem? This was the beginning of the stress that started the mental breakdown. Under the circumstances, I think the most rational person could have lost their mind. I was just the one on the battlefield during those trying days.