To be or not to be....honest?

So I recently read a blog entry about being honest. In the blog the writer wrote of one of the dilemmas of blog writers; of whether to be completely honest or not to be honest (by withholding information). And I'll be completely honest, here for a moment, I often stifle myself from writing here because I wonder what my audience will think of me.

I'm not really sure who reads this but I do know that people DO read it because I track my "stats".  Most folks don't comment on my blog--well, my close "grown-up" friends feel free to comment.  I welcome comments and it's especially good to hear from friends I haven't heard from in a long time. My dilemma is to be  honest or to color the writing with "positivity" because I don't want people to feel sorry for me or think I'm not strong or in control because of what's going on in my personal life.

So with that said, I'm going to be completely honest tonight. Will folks at my office look at me and then look at the floor tomorrow when they see me? Maybe but I think there are times when we should be honest and there are times when we NEED to be dead honest. Today is one of those days for me.

I'm afraid. I don't think this makes me weak or stupid, or non-artistic. I don't think people should feel sorry for me nor do I want people to. I'm afraid because I have been the victim of violence in my life. The violence was NOT MY FAULT. It is not the victims fault but I do see where it could have been avoided if I had made wiser choices. I've made some really bad choices and I hope that someone who reads this makes better choices because of what they read here.

My ex-husband was verbally abusive, emotionally and mentally abusive. He even pushed me and scariest of all he kidnapped (and yes, I'll use that word) my daughter twice.  The first time he took her it was for a few hours. He took her to the bookstore and they played and got a cookie. They had a good time but I was insane with worry. He wouldn't return my phone calls or text messages. I waited at home having no idea where he was or where he was going....with her.  I was afraid.

The second time was for 20 hours and it was on Christmas eve/Christmas day 2009. I called the police. I begged someone to help me...anyone but no one had the power to do anything. He refused to answer my phone calls or my text messages. He called me while I was on the phone with the police and in the message he left he told me that my daughter would stay with him that night and that I couldn't do anything about it.  He was right. I was powerless. I was up all night long. I paced. I cried. I hated myself for not being able to protect her. She wouldn't wake up and run down the stairs to see what Santa had brought. She wouldn't see that he had eaten her cookies and drank the juice she had left him.  I was so afraid for her safety, for her happiness, for her.

I called and called and called the next morning starting at 6am. She was always awake by 6. I knew she was awake. But no answer, no answer, no answer. I paced, I cried, I hated myself. At 11:00 he answered the phone. He had taken a bunch of pills when he went to bed and he had just woken up. I could only imagine my poor baby sitting next to his passed out body unable to get him awake, unable to get help, wearing a diaper that she had been wearing for over 12 hours.

He apologized. He handed the phone to my daughter and I was relieved, angry, sad, crazed to hear her. Her little voice said, "My Mommy!" Then she cried. He took the phone from her and said that he would bring her home. I doubted that he was telling the truth but about half an hour later he was on my porch with my precious baby. I reached out the door and took her from him and then closed the door and locked it. I didn't want to hear his response, his excuse. I didn't allow him to see her for four months. That was two years ago. I'm still afraid.

A month later he followed my car after I picked my daughter up from daycare. He called and demanded to see her. He demanded that I stop my car. I refused. I cried. He screamed at me through the phone. My daughter could hear him, she could read my emotions as I tried to remain calm as he followed us toward our home. My daughter started to pray, she prayed to Jesus that he would leave us alone, that he would stop. I changed my path. I drove to my brother's house but no one was there. He continued to follow us. I called my attorney who told me to go to the police station. I called the police and told them what was happening to us. The policeman on the phone kept me calm and told me where to go. All the while my daughter prayed. the police pulled my ex-husband over and gave him a ticket. The police came to my car and checked on us. I told him that I had tried to get a restraining order but that it was denied. He said that it was difficult to get one because it took away a person's rights. Specifically the right to carry a gun. REALLY! This person should be allowed to carry a gun?!



I'm afraid. Tonight I saw a car almost identical to his pass us by on our way home. My heart started to race. I was sure that it was him in the car. I looked in the rear-view mirror I saw the car turn around in a side street and follow us into our neighborhood. I turned down a random street. I made a big circle. My daughter kept asking where were we going. I said we were checking out the houses on that street.

My heart pounded. I couldn't breathe. I remembered the feeling of losing her albeit for a few hours but to me it felt like a lifetime. And I was more than afraid...I was terrified. That doesn't make me weak, or pitiful, or stupid, or southern, or non-artistic...it makes me a Mommy. And that's honesty.