It took me six months to get my ERD (early return of dependents) paperwork approved. My ex husband and his commander were buddies. They played ball together, went out for drinks together, hell, he even dated his commander’s daughter briefly after I left. That’s what narcissists do. They are strategic.
After months of his commander refusing to sign off on my ERD paperwork, I had grown weary. I felt like I was going to have a nervous breakdown. I called my mom in hysterics, “Mama! I’m trying to leave! I go to his commander’s office every day and he won’t meet with me! His secretary tells me he’s busy. I’m trapped mama and I want to come home!” My mom spoke to me calmly and helped me ground myself before she prayed for me. Then, she said, “I’ll call the American Red Cross and tell them what’s going on.” I thought about the repercussions that would follow, I decided to decline that offer. I remembered my therapist telling me that narcissists can get violent, especially if they feel they are losing control. He had control for ten years, I had to move with intent, but quietly. I sat on it. What could I do? After a couple of days, it came to me. I decided to reach out to a commander of a squadron in his career field at Ramstein AB in Germany.
It was worth a try. I got online, went to the Ramstein AB page and searched for the commander of the services unit at Ramstein. When I found his name and contact information, I became nervous immediately. What if he doesn’t help me? What if he listens to my husband instead of me? I had to shake the negative thoughts that were pouring in. I composed the email:
Sir,
My name is _____________, I am the spouse of Tsgt. ___________. We are stationed at SHAPE in Belgium. Six months ago, I submitted my ERD package to my husband’s commander. After I submitted the package, he called me personally to invite me to his office. When I arrived, my husband was there and his commander informed me that he would not be signing off on my package because my husband wanted me to stay. I feel like a prisoner.
I’m miserable and I want to go home. I do not like to over share, but my husband is verbally, emotionally, financially and mentally abusive. It’s only gotten worse since we pcs’d here last year. Please help me. I have three daughters that I am trying to leave with. He told me that I could leave “for a break” but I’d have to leave my babies, I can’t do that. Please help me.
Respectfully,
Mrs. _______________
**SEND** There was no turning back.
The commander at Ramstein emailed me back the next day apologizing for my experience. He promised to help me and I had orders cut within three days. My therapist secretly arranged for a hotel room for my daughters and I just in case things went south before we left. And they did.
After the movers came to pack up our household goods that we would be taking to Alaska with us, my husband became triggered. He lost it. He cussed me out, broke some dishes, threw my suitcases over the upstairs loft down to the first floor. My clothes exploded ever. My daughters cried. He was foaming at the mouth with rage. “Girls! You see this? Your mother is a cheater! Your mother is a dirty cheater!” He was grasping at straws.
He decided that I needed to get out immediately. He had already canceled my debit card two weeks prior. What he didn’t know was that I had been stashing cash. I Both euro and the dollar. I had $125 euro and $535 US. I also had a secret savings account with $3500 in it and two credit cards in my name that he wasn’t aware of. As he cussed and fussed in my face, I stood my ground. “Just know if you hit me, we gonna be FIGHTING.” I had a pocket knife tucked in my bra. He told me that I was a low life and wasn’t worth him risking his career. So, he packed up all of our luggage into the car and drove us to the hotel. Still cussing and fussing. Threatening to put me out of the car every couple of minutes. “Ain’t no n*gga ever going to love you. You’re used up. Three kids? They will only want to f*ck you. You are pretty with a nice body, that’s about it.” I just stayed focused on telling the girls that everything would be okay. Blocking out his hateful monologue. He had no idea how I would pay for the room and didn’t care.
Once we arrived at the hotel, he put us all out and said, “I don’t know what you’re going to do with no money,” and left. I knew. I had been planning for weeks. I called my therapist as soon as he drove away. She told me the room was reserved in my name and that she would drop us off food shortly. I then called my friend, Mimi. Her and her husband had allowed me to hide my money, credit cards, passports and other important documents at their home. She brought them to me. I still have the ziploc freezer bag that I kept everything in (it’s pictured below).
After dragging our luggage into our little bungalow room, I tried to relax and make it feel “normal”. There was absolutely nothing normal about the situation. My older two daughters were scared he would come to the room so we all slept together in one bed. We had to stay two nights.
The morning that we were leaving, I had already made arrangements to catch the shuttle to the Brussels International Airport. Surprisingly, he came to the hotel as the driver was helping me pack everything up. He hugged the girls and told them he loved them and would see them soon. He grabbed my wrist, but I snatched it back without making any eye contact.
I remember boarding that plane on that cool fall morning. As much as I had always wanted to live in Europe, I was leaving after just over a year. It didn’t feel real. “Walk in front of me and listen for me to tell you where our seats are, do you hear me?” My two oldest responded in unison, “yes, ma’am.” I had my baby girl in a stroller with her car seat strapped to my back. In my head, I repeated over and over, “you did it. You did it. You did it.” After getting to our seats, and buckling everyone in, I exhaled. I closed my eyes as tears rolled down my cheeks and my lips trembled. My oldest looked up at me and asked, “why are you sad mommy? It’s going to be okay.” I replied, “I’m not sad sweetheart, sometimes people cry when they are extremely happy.” I did it and I was determined to never go back.
I recently watched Maid on Netflix. A friend gave the recommendation. Once I read the description, I knew it was a must. It’s October. National Breast Cancer Awareness, National Downs Syndrome Awareness, National Depression Education & Awareness (and a plethora more). But, for me personally, October is important because it is National Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Watching Maid incited unsolicited and unwelcome flashbacks. Being a survivor, you become an expert at compartmentalizing. No matter how much healing work that you do, certain things will trigger you forever. A raised voice, a song, a scene from a show or movie, loud sounds, a chore, even a scent. If you are a survivor, the healing work is an ongoing labor of self love. If you are currently going through domestic violence in any form, please seek help.
