I immediately filed for divorce from my husband. He threatened to kidnap my daughter and never allow me to see her again if I left him. He even drove his car through my house, to punish me and to keep me in a perpetual state of fear. Fear of him and what he could or would do. I got the court to establish supervised visitations to limit his ability to have access to my daughter. I gave formal letters to her day care and baby sitters, so that they would not be taken in by his charms and be allowed to see my daughter unsupervised or take her from the premises. He knew the strangle hold he had on me with his threat. I could not let him win.

I Thank God he never followed through with his threats. My fear of his threats perpetually haunted me and I never could let my guard down with him. As my daughter got older, I would allow her to go with him with the caveat that there would be some other adult around. His mother or even his ex wife, mother of his three children that would stay with us. I could never trust him to have her alone with him. He would never hurt her, but I never trusted that he would not follow through with his threats to take her from me.

Not long after my divorce was finalized I had an elopement style wedding to my lover. My now third husband. If at first you don’t succeed and all that. I thought I had finally found the one. The one I had been looking for my whole life. The man that knew me, wanted me and loved me. The man who would never leave me, never cheat on me and never break my heart. I was wrong again! I married another alcoholic, womanizing cheater. He never hit me, however he did gamble and he cost me my life savings. He perpetually wracked up credit card dept and dept he owed at the dog track, all of which I was responsible for paying. He did not bring in enough money from selling cars, I was still the bread winner and it was up to me to maintain the household and pay for everything. At least, I had a man and I wasn’t alone, right?

I was a woman of faith, even though very little in my life bore evidence of it. I had been introduced to Jesus by my first mother-in law. I had met her when I was a teenager and she took me in as one of her own. She made sure I had an introduction to THE one who loved me more than anyone rever could. The one who had thought, that I, was “to die for.” Or perhaps, it was that he thought I was worth dying for. As much as I wanted to believe it, and I tried to hold on to it. For much of my life, I could only hold on to it by thin thread.

I knew in my head that God loved me and that it was God who help me through the hardest times of my life. Times like when my son had croup and a sever chest infection and had to be in a medical tent to get well. Or when his father had accidentally driven over him and broke both of his legs. I thought my son was with his father and his father thought he was with me. He did not see him. I felt like the worst mom in the whole world. I felt like I was a failure. I didn’t protect my son.

God sustained me even when I could only hold on to by skin of my teeth. Perhaps its more apt to say, in much of my life, God was holding onto and carrying me and kept me going. God held on to me when my precious daughter was chronically sick and was in and out of the hospital. I didn’t think she would make it through her childhood. When she was a 2yrs old, she was chewing on a toy rubber dart from her brother’s toy gun. She swallowed it and nearly choked to death. If not for my second husbands friend performing CPT she would have died. When she was about 4 ½ due to chronic illness, she became fully deaf. Her ears had closed up due to the infections. The doctor performed what was called a myringotomy, where he inserted tubes in her ear drum to force the infection out. During this same year, she had to have a tonsilectomy and an andenoidectomy, where in they removed her tonsils and adenoids. I lived in perpetual state fear of loosing both of my children. If not for my heavenly father carrying me through it, I would have lost my mind.

I decided I was going to make my marriage to my 3^rd husband work, no matter what the cost. Even thought he was an alcoholic who would go off on binges and disappear for days at a time. At least he didn’t hit me. He did however cheat on me. I stuck it out for as long as I could. I was determined that THIS marriage would work. If for no other reason, than for my children to have a stead father figure in their lives.

My daughter’s father would pop in and out at unexpected ways. My son lived primarily with his dad but he spent weekends and holidays with me. My 3^rd husband was so good with my kids. He made my daughter laugh, that was such a beautiful sound to hear. He helped me raise her and he made her feel loved and cared for. He was an excellent father to my son, who would come seeking advise on a myriad of subjects. We had the most memorable vacations and fun times. What else could a mother could ask of a man who was not biologically related to her children.

For awhile it worked, it really worked. We had that “perfect” little church family. We attended church Sunday mornings, and Sunday nights. We went as a family on Wednesday nights and my husband was on the church softball team. Alongside of most of our church family my children and I attending Friday night ball games. Often we would stop for chili dogs on our way to the ball park. My husband even became an elder of the church. We made friends with other “perfect” little church families, that really were not so perfect. We fit right in. My family and I put on this show for years. I tried to confide in a couple women I truly thought were my friends, about what my life was really like. I had hoped for a life line, for support and encouragement to get out. Instead I encouraged to keep up the facade. Christians were to stay with their spouses no matter what. It didn’t matter if they cheated on or beaten, you stayed married. Divorce was the unpardonable sin and it was not an acceptable course of action. I have since learned God does forgive divorce. I could have and should have left long before I did.

By the time my children were teenager’s we no longer went to church regularly as a family. I would go with my son or my daughter or sometimes I went with both. My husband opted to work on Sundays. He continued his drinking binges, womanizing and he gambled away my hard earned money. I stayed by his side because that was what I was supposed to do and I did not want to be alone.

Naturally, this took a major tole on my already frail mental health. I spent countless nights crying alone in my bathroom. I finally got the courage to seek help. I sought counseling to help me not feel like this anymore. To control my depression, my anger and heal where I hurt. I was like the walking wounded. I put on a mask to take on my wok and for my children.

After several years of counseling, I finally left my third husband. I had all my ducks in a row. I had absconded away with things from my home. My precious heirlooms and photo albums. I took out silverware, pots, pans and dishes a little at at time. out of my house bit by bit and put it in storage. I had my daughter help me with my endeavor. She was adept at sneaking things out of the house, right under the nose of my husband. She somehow managed to get her drum set out of the house without him noticing. We alternated taking trips to our storage facility. While he may have not noticed things were missing he felt a shift in our marriage. Finally on a weekend in November 2000, I had my husband served with divorce papers and a u-haul truck in my driveway. I asked my son to come to help us move and my daughter enlisted the help of a couple of her childhood friends.

I began an affair with the man I had been in love with for years. He was a man I had worked side by side with for over a decade. Once again, I thought I had finally found true love. A man who wanted me and loved me. I was so happy with him. I had lost a bunch of weight and I looked the best I had in my adult life. Or at least since I was in my 20’s. I was in love and this was going to work. My life’s sojourn for love had found me, at last.

Only, it wasn’t what I thought. Would this naive woman never learn? One night my new lover and I got into a fight and broke up. He told me that I was impossible to love. This struck at the core of my heart issues. He had hit the deepest wound within me, with one swift and final blow. To put it succinctly, I crashed and burned. I was never the same again, the woman I had been died because this final rejection. I tried to kill myself. I took all of my depression and anxiety medications and drank a full bottle of wine. I know again, another pedestrian (common) thing about my story. After all this was the most common way, women tried to kill themselves.

My daughter was the one who had found me. I was incoherent in my ramblings and hysterics. My daughter tried to comfort me, to somehow make it better. She had been doing that her whole life. Trying to make things better for me. She told me how much she loved me. She told me I have always been loved by her, by my mother and by my heavenly father/God. None of her words penetrated my stupor. I barely heard her ask me why her love wasn’t enough for me to want to live. I frankly didn’t have an answer for her. I was stuck in my deepest pain. All I could hear over and over again were my lovers words. I was impossible to love. I honestly didn’t understand why she was crying. Her life would be better without me. I had failed her and my son. I had not been the wonderful mom I had intended to be. I had hurt her time and again. Tonight, I dealt a final blow to her tender heart. I saw something change in her face when it hit her that no matter how good she had been, no matter how much she loved me, her love was not enough for me. This was the night I lost my daughter’s love and adoration. This was the night, I completely and utterly broke her heart.