Broken-life story

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This story has been running through my mind and I am finally able to write it. 

2010

Duffle bags, carryalls and backpacks lay strewn on the basement floor packed and ready for our trip to the Oregon coast. A refrigerator for cold drinks, a microwave and full closet were extra amenities that made this area homey and self-contained. Bed sheets were crisp and perfectly made complete with hospital corners. A fragrant bouquet infused with tones of unknown annuals drifted through the room from hanging baskets just outside our door. Trips back from Saudi were spent here, up the mile long dirt road that wound and curved all the way to the house on the hill.  Since our move back we spent many weekends and holidays in this very room, laughing and feeling the guarded freedom that we now enjoyed.  This house held more than comfort and memories, it reminded me of the person that I had once been.

Sweaty fingers grasped the phone, holding the receiver, pushing buttons and finally disconnecting it from the wall. His words were clear, “You are a liar, a thief” and now it seemed as if his rages had permeated even this safe place and had leaked over to my mother and father. I heard my dad’s voice loud and bold “DO NOT CALL AGAIN” and then the phone was disconnected. I scurried around pushing bags, picking up clothing, pacing past each child, counting heads. It was 1 a.m., I surveyed the darkened room and stood ready, on alert thinking of a plan to pack and head back home. The urge to flee was muted by my mother’s calm yet firm reminders that we needed to get sleep and the vacation would go on as scheduled.

She paced back and forth on the grass just outside the slider, a pensive look could be seen on her face as she fiddled with a shirt sleeve. I surveyed the room, plastic buckets and shovels, treats stacked neatly on the dream bed mom had fashioned for me and the youngest children. I stood frozen staring at the childlike figure that walked back and forth through the early spring foliage. She held the grace and fury of a woman on a mission and she would not be dissuaded by fear and rancor.

Numerous voicemails containing threats and warnings instructed us to leave my parents’ home and return to the little apartment. He cautioned that he would be coming to take his children away if they went anywhere without his express permission. We were not allowed to have a vacation and no one would enjoy the company of his children if he was not along.  I held the phone listening to each word repeatedly until her soft slender hands touched mine and removed it from my shaking fingers.

She shut the door and waited for the next call, walking past the window through the trees and bushes. An hour passed and her exasperated and shaken expression turned to sadness. The usual shame and guilt took hold realizing that my daughter now had to manage crazy that had no limits. I collected myself and lightly moved beside her as she listened to his raging voice, “YES I want your mother dead so I can take my children back to Saudi, yes dead!”

Her eyes welled up with tears, but numbness and strength coursed through my brain. It was finally spoken, heard and real and meant that maybe I was not the unbalanced and spoiled woman he had been “burdened” with.

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Summer 2017

 

 

 

111 thoughts on “Broken-life story”

  7. That monster doesn’t deserve to ever see his kids again. He has never done you and your kids anything else than hurt and heartbreak.
    I’m happy, that your parents was there for all of you, while this ugly acting happened, dear Lynn.
    Much love and many hugs, sister ❤

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  10. Oh my Lynn…he was and still is such an ASS….so glad you can get it out and on paper and then just leave it there…it was then, now is now…..your doing great…..love the pictures, how quick our babies grow…..XXXXkat

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  13. I’m so glad you all got out and you’re able to begin to get it all out by writing and sharing your story. You’re gaining more and more confidence and strength within yourself everyday. That young woman you once were is still there, she’s emerging again! 🙂

    xx

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  17. That was hard to read, and I understand why you held it back so long. Having your daughter and parents witness the horror of this might have been close to the limit for you. So glad you got your voice and can share it here. We are all behind you. Your parents are a God-send. Like so many, I admire your strength and endurance. You and your family deserve a happy life. Hugs to you, Lynn.

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    • Thanks so much Van! I appreciate your words so much. This was the beginning of his threats and indications that he wanted me to be destroyed. This is also why I have not divorced, just staying still for now. Thanks for the kind words and hugs! xoxo

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  20. Oh Lynn! How you ever managed to survive this and raise these absolutely amazing wonderful children just PROVES you were not the “unbalanced and spoiled woman he had been “burdened” with!” You amaze me EVERY day! EVERY single day! I so hope some day you will realize how amazing YOU are! Hugs!!! ❤

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  32. Hugs Lynn. You know my feelings on this man. It is just so apparent that he has numerous issues, so sad that you and your family had to go through things like that. I can imagine how hard it is, having to now re – live all this through writing, but it is the best way. xxx

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  33. I often wondered, Lynn, reading about your experiences, what it must have been like for your parents, and I think I knew, in the back of my head, that they were your allies and that your strength was somehow bolstered by their love and determination. You were not crazy, and thank goodness that they were there to help you break free. ❤

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  36. Thank you for sharing your stories with us. I continued to be shocked by them, which is good. I must not forget others who are living in such fear. These stories must be hard to write….seeming the happen years ago and at the same time yesterday. As you watch your children and grand children grow strong and happy, you know what he said were all lies.

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