My version of “abuse” was simple…someone hit someone, hurt them physically, the cops came, and the abuser was taken away. The person who was hurt was perfectly ok after “Starsky and Hutch” sorted them out. They went on their merry way…the bad guy was gone forever! Phew! I feel better!
Funny thing…in real life, the bad guy got out the next day because the abused person bailed them out. Wait. What! Why???
Physical abuse leaves bruises and blood and broken bones, even death. When a person returns to their abuser, it usually indicates profound insecurity and desperation. The abuser holds…
Brooke Weaver is not my real name.
Of course it’s not.
I chose it because it reminded me of “water” and “intention”. That’s just stupid...
Still going with it…
I am Brooke Weaver, just the name-fibbing-version.
I’m still afraid and intimidated by my ex husband. Not in a physical way.
I’m also afraid of hurting or embarrassing my kids. It only takes one “great intentioned” friend to blow my “cover”.
I don’t believe the truth sets you free…until you’re completely aligned with what you’re hiding or protecting. Until then, I’m sticking to “Brooke”.
If I could choose a new name, it would be so friggin awesome! Well, maybe only friggin awesome when you’re telling it to the sheriff, “Honestly Sir, Hot-Pants-MaGee is my real name”.
Being alone saved me.
I’ve been divorced for six whole years. I’m deeply grateful for my divorce, although it’s taken a long time to get here. I took a lot of pride in not being “difficult” during our divorce mediation. I begged him to consider “Bird Nesting” to ease the huge changes our young boys were going to endure. I was so proud of myself for handling my heart wrenching, fucked-up, what-the-hell, are-you-kidding-me, devasting, divorce with “kindness and grace”.
I was in an emotionally abusive relationship…I was scared to ever upset him. My handsome, super-successful, hard-working husband was done. Out.
Proud Mom, Single Parent, Learning to be comfortable in my own skin…