“Was it that bad?”
Tags: Domestic Violence, Domestic Abuse, Survival, God, Trigger Warning

This question has been haunting me for the past few years. Off and on. When it pops up into my consciousness, I desperately seek out validation from those who knew my past and those who knows me deeply. This time, it was really that bad. I got extremely depressed. I wanted to stay in bed and pretty much did when I was home.

Why is this question so detrimental to my mental health?

A few years ago, I was facing a “we are going to DIE!” moment.

My husband of 12 years at the time started to serious show signs of instability in his ability to withhold his anger.

He would wake up angry and go to bed completely doped up on drugs to numb out his thirst to kill someone. Over the years, I have learned to bury all conversations about murdering someone deep into the back recess of my mind. “I’d cut off every limb at the long bone, because it’s easier to cut through that area than to saw through the joint.” “Did you know that it’s hard to decapitate a body? It takes a lot of sawing to cut through all that layer.” “Hey, come watch this. It’s the taliban cutting off his head.”

Weapons such a machetes, axes and knives would be added to his collection often. Zip ties, ropes, shovels, bricks, and lye could be found in our messy garage. Questionable powered chemicals and chloroform could be found in his dresser and parts of our closet. These were just a few of the weird stuff that he collected and prepared around the house.

How would I respond to all this? I chose to bury it and ignore it. Gone were the days of me asking why or telling him to let God handle people. It didn’t matter my opinion. What mattered to him if I would have a reaction to it. I think he got a satisfying thrill out of my look of disgust or horror.

During the last few years, his thoughts and plans got sadistic. He would watch things on the dark web and have CSI or Dexter on one of his 2 screens in his man cave. He would be in a trance shooting prostitutes and police officers on his Grand Theft Auto on one screen while listening to murder plots on the other TV screen. I would get chills down my spine and pain in the bottom of my stomach when I hear his maniacal laugh. I always knew that whatever he was laughing at, it wasn’t funny. It was probably someone getting really hurt.

Bind, torture, kill. He worshiped the BTK killer. He had used one of my blank canvases to paint it black with BTK scrawled across in white paint and hang it on my wall.

Torture, that was what got him off the most. The pure joy that he would get from talking about plucking off fingernails one by one to torture someone. Or something about dripping water on the face for long periods of time can drive someone insane.

The worst was his plans to kill one of my ex-employers baby to get revenge on me getting let go for being pregnant. Babies, beloved dogs, spouses. No one was safe.

In between these plans, he would take us on cross country business trips. Stay in 5 star hotels, eat room service, and allow us to lounge all day at the pool or beach while he worked. He would take our family to carnivals, arcades, and shopping trips blowing cash that he had piled away.

At home, I didn’t have to work. I didn’t have to keep a clean house. I was privileged enough to stay home with our babies.

When money was short, at the end of every month, the tyrant would come out. Anytime we had to tap into his cash stash to pay bills, he would go into his silent sinister mood. It was so scary when he wouldn’t talk because I wouldn’t know what he was planning to do. I was always afraid that if he got mad enough, he would go kill somebody and I couldn’t live with that.

I remember allowing him to do things to me or me to him in hopes of making him happy. I needed a happy husband that didn’t think about killing people.

But it didn’t matter. It always seemed like he would be happy for a few minutes and then the dark thoughts and plans would come back.

That’s why there were drugs in the house. Yes, I knew about them. I knew that there was a lot in the house. I knew that he told me that if the cops ever came, that there was enough for a felony. That didn’t even include all the illegal weapons that were there either. I knew he was taking drugs and doing drugs. I truly believed him when he said that the only way for him not to go kill his mother or someone else was for him to be high. So between the sexual acts and the drugs, that should be enough for me to save someone from getting butchered. Right?

We have 2 daughters. They were really young when we were there. Daily, I would think, this isn’t right. I don’t want our girls to think that treating someone like this is okay. I don’t want them to think that humans were disposable. I couldn’t stomach the thought of them doing one of these heinous acts on someone one day. I didn’t want them to do the things that I had to do to keep their husbands from hurting someone.

His anger was palpable. Road rage was a common occurrence with us in the car. I had flashes of someone shooting into our car and killing one of the girls because he waved his gun at them after cutting them off. The 80–90+ mph while changing from lane to lane and riding the back of other cars scared me senseless. I would just grab the door handle or put my hand on his leg, praying that he would calm down and slow down.

Thank God for that “we are going to DIE” eye opening moment! It was because of that moment that I had to snap out of my survival fog and cry out for help.

Thinking back and asking, “Was it that bad?”

Yes, it was.

Through it all, God was protecting us from getting physically hurt. He came to our rescue when I cried out in terror. He provided the perfect escape and have provided every stitch of clothing on our backs, every roof over our head, every crumb that is in our tummy, and listened to every prayer that was prayed over us, for us, and from us. He felt every tear and His blood was shed to wash all that darkness from our lives.

I live to tell our story of how He rescued us from a life of fear and bondage. His love saved us from one of the sadistic and evil men that I have ever met. He gave me a story of survival and victory so that I can share hope to others who may be where I once was.

Was it that bad? Yes, it was.

But the point of this story isn’t validating how bad it was, it’s shared to show how GOOD God is!

He rescued me from the bottomless pit of darkness and has been bathing me with overwhelming love ever since.

Every time I try to remember how bad things were, I must always remember that God is bigger than ALL of it. The victory is already won and all I need to do is to focus on that, and be grateful.

You may or may not be in the same predicament that I was in, but I know that everyone has their own hell that they battle everyday. From addiction, to anxiety, fear, doubt, hopelessness, bondage, you name it, God can free you from it. He freed me from mine. The same God that rescued me will rescue you, too.

Because of Jesus, I am alive. My girls are safe. And victory is already here.

God is good and He is ENOUGH.

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I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, 17 so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, 18 may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, 19 and to know this love that surpasses knowledge — that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Ephesians 3:16–19 NIV