By Gwendolyn Law

Chapter 1

Introduction

  How do you make an introduction into hell’s pain? Let’s try this. Some pain should never be experienced. Some relationships cannot recover from it. Sometimes life just sucks. When you keep multiplying those types of pain until the ball and chain are drowning you. But wait, you can’t grieve your child, because it’s time to realize the man you chose to marry is Satan incarnate. Now let’s add some more grief in, a divorce, and more grief. Let’s do all this to a nineteen year old child over the next few years and see if we can shatter her soul beyond repair. How much more can she stand and STILL stand by her faith in God?

  Ah, broken and shattered, yes, I turned my back on God for taking my child. Her sperm donor was the catalyst of her loss.   The next decade is a trial and error of what I can and cannot remember, or how vivid it is. Too much trauma wrapped into a few short years did a lot of damage. Mostly grief and domestic violence. Come to find out that man was worse than even I knew.   Somewhere in the darkness, I found a light to lead the way out of hell and back to the land of the living. I turned my back on God but He never left me. I’m not debating religion, just sharing my story of trauma & healing. My journey of clawing my way back to something resembling humanity.

  Standing up and being honest when it counted most in my life. Not because I had no one to stand up for me, but because I absolutely did. I had a gun-wielding mother to protect me. I had a BFF that headed straight to the police station the day we were being stalked shopping and enjoying each other’s company for a bit. Rather because I was adult enough to know I had to do those things whether I was terrified or not. The only one who could get me through it was God in His loving mercy and graceful way. Being stubborn from birth, that was no easy feat for Him to accomplish. 

  Standing up meant I was standing up to stop it from repeating. I did not do a good enough job of that, but at least I stood up for myself and others as well. First time in a courtroom was more terrifying since he was there as well. Still the outcome was what I prayed to have. Some things you don’t forget even amidst terror.   Female judge putting the narc in his place when he tried to tell her what she had to do in her courtroom was the best. “This is my courtroom, and here I am the final word. She wants a divorce, and you have no choice in that. That is my decision to make. You do not need to sign the papers for HER to be divorced. You just will not be. If I see you in my courtroom because you won’t let her be and live her life, I will put you 6 feet under the jail.” Those are the words I remember other than “Divorce granted; maiden name restored.” That’s when I knew this fight was not one I had to continue alone with just my family. Fear-the first time I saw real fear on his face. Is solitude 6 feet under the jail or was she telling him she would give him the death penalty?

  Let’s learn to shoot this gun. Or not. Can I have a knife instead? Why a knife? If he gets that close, the judge will put him 6 feet under the jail but I will have protection. Ever slept with a knife under the pillow? How about a pistol? Yeah, don’t wake the redneck suddenly. You might have a knife thrown at you while a bullet flies too. Trauma waking up bad for everyone. Healing eases the ability to sleep without them so close. Trance-like states: Hmmm, those are flashbacks to hell. Came out swinging if you touched me. Only responded to mama or grannie’s voice. I healed out of that or most of it. Thank God, since they are both gone now. 

  Baby crying? Oh, that is worse than nails on a chalkboard. Nope, it’s a thing I still never know if I will be able to handle or not. Why? Because Angel never did but I heard her crying everywhere and still do sometimes, three decades later.

  That was a real eye-opening experience when my sons were born. “You need to let him cry.” Uh huh and you need to butt the fuck out of this. This was how I healed me. I held that baby when he cried and did my best to be who he needed me to be. I failed at that, but I kept healing and never gave up on faith or hope for a better tomorrow. I stopped filtering so much of what I thought and knew as truth.

  I was brave enough, selfless enough, and smart enough to know my baby needed something I couldn’t give him. So, I found another way to give him all he needed to grow up to face a world of cruel people ready to take him apart, then laugh because he wasn’t stronger. Gave him a sense of love and warmth I often couldn’t give him though I felt it. I was encased in ice and though it was thawing, too much was still there hiding behind the protections added. Something very recently understood. 

  I’m the largest reason my second marriage failed. God alone knows that man showed me how a Queen should be treated to the best of his ability. I tried to be who he needed me to be. I just couldn’t compromise on a trigger issue. He couldn’t compromise enough. Oh, and religion wise-because I am divorced that makes me a whore. Hm, Jesus hung out with the prostitutes and did some of His most holy works through them. I’ll wear that title if I must in order be a survivor rather than dead.
  So introduction huh? Well, there ya go, that’s what this one’s all about. If you want to judge, keep it to yourself. Even though this book is not the full story, some of that is lost in the darkness behind locks, to hopefully never resurface. I’m not healed 100%. I won’t be until I cross over Jordan and hold my angel baby. God can send mama for me since Grannie keeps sending my ass back, and then after I see God, I wanna hug my baby. The deal was mama shouldn’t feel the pain I felt losing my Angel again during her lifetime. All deals are off the table these days. I am more than willing when my time comes. Throw a bonfire, grill something on the smoker, play loud music, and raise a Mt. Dew for me. Just don’t count me out yet. I’m sitting on the sidelines, sure, but I am not out of it yet. 

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