*Kelda Khronicles*
Kelda does NOT like violence...
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It's Not So Easy- A Two Part Look at the Aftermath of Domestic Violence
I’m gearing up to file for divorce. I’ve already left my husband. This has not been an easy time. My parents and his parents have already exchanged words. They weren’t all that nice. His parents claimed I ruined my husband and left him destitute (like I’m rolling in the dough here!). His parents think I’m nuts. His parents want my husband to have custody of our unborn son.

My marriage wasn’t pretty. It started off that way, but it didn’t stay that way for more than 3 days. My husband was abusive physically, mentally, emotionally and financially. I’ve got the police reports and court orders to prove that. He even pleaded guilty to assaulting me. My husband still harasses my family and me. He still makes threats against my life.

Leaving my husband almost cost me my life. It almost cost the life of my cats. Had the police and my moving party not shown up when they did, I can’t say that I would have lived through the experience. It was the hardest thing I ever did. It was scary. The whole marriage was scary.

I’m still recovering from the trauma of abuse. I can now honestly deal with my pain and emotions because it’s safe for me to do so. I couldn’t before because it wasn’t safe for me to have emotions. Every ounce of my emotions and strength went into keeping my husband happy. That meant I had to have the emotions dictated by him. I had to be who and what he wanted me to be at all times. I had to be constantly aware of what he wanted or I’d be harmed. I had to pretend my husband wasn’t using drugs. I had to pretend he was the best thing that ever happened to me. I had to pretend I forgave him for hitting me. I did all this because that’s the script he wrote for me. To him, a good wife follows the script the husband provides.  I spent my energy doing this and staying safe. Had I tried to deal with my pain and emotions around him, I’d be smacked around because I wasn’t focused on him and him alone.

Now I focus on me and baby-to-be. I do what’s best for us ever since I left my husband. Part of that was a protection order and filing charges for the last time he hit me. My husband convinced his parents that I did that out of some sort of revenge for what I don’t know. He also convinced them that I’m an unfit mother.

I told a good friend of mine that my husband’s parents were going to help him seek custody. She was shocked. From what my husband had told her, (he calls everyone I know on a regular basis to try and find out where I live and info on me) he doesn’t want the baby. She told me to be careful. She wouldn’t put it past my husband to have his parents hire a private investigator to help them prove me unfit.

You know, she was right. They probably would hire a PI. As a matter of fact it’s almost guaranteed. That’s just the kind of people they are. The invasion of privacy would bother anyone and it does to me to a certain extent. Still, I don’t have any deep dark secrets. I’m not a bad person. I don’t use drugs and I don’t drink. I’m an open and forthright person. I have nothing to hide. I’m the type of person that would bring coffee to the PI watching me in this cold, cold weather.

Truth is, I’m not afraid of being investigated. I welcome it. If that’s what it takes to show that my husbands claims are unfounded than so be it. I don’t have to be careful so much as I have to just be me.

Here’s what a PI would find out about how I spend my day:

Morning
I wake up between 7am and 12pm, depending on whether or not my gestating baby lets me sleep. I run to the bathroom, followed by my cat. I go upstairs and feed the cats if my niece has not already feed them. I check the kitchen table for any notes my sister might have left for me. I grab a soda or cup of coffee and head for the computer. I check my email. I refill my drink. I work on my niece’s school newsletter or website. I do some laundry. I pet my cats. I make any necessary phone calls. I check my email again. I eat some breakfast, then fold some clothes, then reply to my email. Every other Monday, I go to my OB while my sister goes to the grocery store.

Afternoon
I take a shower or bath. I dress. I alternate the wash. My nieces come home from school. I greet them, give them a snack and play referee. Some days, we do a craft project. We do homework. At around 5pm their dad calls; we discuss dinner and any other plans for the evening and whether or not we need milk. The kids and I pick up the house for their dad’s arrival. Sometimes we start dinner.
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