by Smith, TL
I tried to explain it to Paige on the way home (she was driving). She hated what we had become (we as in Jerry and me) and it hurt her to see me so clearly screwed up.
We talked as a family. We set boundaries. We set up marriage counseling. We cut back our drinking, we made dinner together and ate together. But the damage was done, and I had no hope in me or us.
I lost my job at OU as a result of all of this. Job abandonment. My good friend was my boss and even she didn’t know the depths of where I was. She does today and is one of my biggest allies and supporters. Life has a way of repairing itself sometimes.
Losing my job was actually a relief to me. I was so tired of pretending to be okay when I wasn’t okay. I needed SOMETHING. But what? I was too ashamed to talk to anyone honestly about what had been going on for so long, about how deep these wounds were. “What would they think of me?” Besides, I’d been sugarcoating everything for SO long, how did I spill the truth to ANYONE? I couldn’t. Not my family and certainly not his. I had never confided anything to them that would paint him in a bad light.
I would find that not working was definitely not the something I needed. We drank more, hid our drinking from Paige (she knew) and gave up after a few counseling sessions.
I got a job at a plumbing company and one day I came home to find Jerry’s best friend (who I also loved) was there. I always enjoyed him, and he and Jerry could tell stories for hours that had me belly laughing.
Turns out Jerry had run into him and he told Jerry (who had his share of issues and was a drinker too) he had been living at a shelter. Jerry was not going to let that happen, so he started staying with us.
I really didn’t mind at first because he played the guitar and loved music as much as I did. We’d drive Jerry crazy staying up till all hours of the night playing music. Music had always been able to let me lose myself for a while, and we lost track of time A LOT.
It was a nice distraction from the complexities of what my life had become, but at night, when I would lay down, the self-loathing was still there. The doubt still there. The anger, hurt, and resentment, still there. My mind raced with thoughts like a broken record of everything I’d screwed up in my life. They wouldn’t stop and they haunted my dreams.
Even drinking couldn’t help me escape it and I hated everything about me and what I had become.
We tried multiple times to get Jerry on disability. We were denied each time by their doctors. And Jerry was growing worse and worse. Drinking more, eating less. Lashing out at me, sometimes physically. Paige had to pull him off me once when he was stark naked, choking me on the bed. Another time when he had me by the neck in the hallway, she stepped between us and told him if he ever touched her mother again, she’d kill him.
I finally took control of the car and took away his keys. He wasn’t physically able to drive anymore. To my surprise, he didn’t fight me on it. I think he knew he was really sick. I still wondered if it was just a ploy to get out of working and sit around and drink all day.
We were behind on everything. But I had no idea how behind until I took over. And it was bad. It’s a wonder we weren’t evicted but I’m thankful God intervened, and my landlord agreed to work with me.
I got a new job at OU and we finally got an appointment for Jerry to see a different doctor. I took the day off to go with him. 7 days later he was dead.
I couldn’t go back to work. I’m thankful his friend was still here because to be frank, I don’t know that I would have survived this loss. He was grieving too though and we both were able to talk about Jerry’s death in a constructive way I suppose. Like I said earlier, I always known in the back of my head that the only way I’d ever get away completely was if he died. And that if I didn’t stay with him, he’d die alone. THAT is what continuous long-term abuse does to you.
We had hired an attorney before Jerry died to help us get his disability. We got a hearing AFTER he died. And the judge was very nice. He apologized for my loss, clearly he wasn’t able to work. He awarded us his back disability, roughly 11 months of pay, which was not much considering he had been out of work for years for the most part AND because we were so far in the hole.
I caught up the rent (nearly $5,000) and utilities. The only thing I purchased for me was a pair of boots (that I still have). We lived on the rest.
And through it all, his best friend kept me sane. Made sure I was okay. But we were both still drinking, and I was still miserable.
When Jerry died, his mother made most of the decisions. She had told us at the hospital (before I even understood he was going to die) that we were just going to have a graveside service and she said his brother offered to pay for everything. I told her, no, I wanted to pay part. She told me we’d figure it out later. I can’t imagine losing your child.
But when we got to the funeral home, the kids and I picked out a casket we thought was true to Jerry, and realized it was too expensive. His brother said he’d have to go to the bank and see what he could do. His mom said we’d just pay it off monthly. At this point, we thought he was going to have to be buried in the cheapest, pressed wood, blue velvet covered, casket they had. Paige was devastated. Nearly inconsolable. She did not want her daddy to be buried in that casket. She called her friends to see about moving him to Norman and we’d plan our own service. With a video tribute and our people.
Then the kids (Jerry’s son, and Paige) and I went outside, and we discussed cremation. It was certainly MUCH cheaper, and Jerry was already gone. His mom didn’t want to consider it. And this was HER baby boy too. I didn’t want to take that away from her, so I just let it go.
I had already had a disagreement with her about the day of the service. I needed MY family there. Thankfully, his niece helped make her understand. I will forever be grateful for that. I don’t think I could have done it without them there.
We made the service cards ourselves (Paige and her friends) because they were so expensive, we drove ourselves to the cemetery. His niece (the same one he called his sister) had an extra plot at the cemetery, so she gave it to him. I was just going through the motions, like a robot.
We picked out what he would wear, and the kids picked out one song each. Everything else was his mom. She found someone to speak but I was surprised her church didn’t have a meal for the family. EVERY other family service I had been to, her church had always done something for the family.
My family that came in (Dottie, Paul, Lori, Ryan, April) and Paige and her friends and me decided we would all go out to eat ourselves after the service.
AT the cemetery right after the service, his mom invited us to come to the house, the church had brought food over. We felt like an afterthought and we had already made our plans.
We didn’t go. And I’m not sad that we didn’t. I’m sorry if it hurt her or his niece because I truly loved and cared about them, but I felt incredibly hurt by it all and I was simply didn’t have it in me at that point.
Some of Jerry’s family still don’t speak to me, but they don’t know the whole story. They might think they do, but not even Paige knew the whole story and she lived here. I don’t know that it would change anything if they did.
There wasn’t money left to give to pay off the funeral. I had no job and I was really sick and somehow I needed to survive myself. So, I paid a little to the funeral home directly, I gave my stepson some of his money back and then we lived on it as long as we could. Which wasn’t long.
Chapter 26
Restoration
Then I got sick. And well, you know that part since I told you already that God intervened again for me and delivered me from drinking. Physical healing would take a little longer; and I was pretty weak for a few weeks. His friend made sure I ate and was okay. He cleaned the house, did the dishes, took care of the dogs. I tried to make sure I kept moving as much as I could, rebuilding my strength. But even just stepping up on to a curb was hard for me, I was THAT weak from the damage I had done to my body.
I will fore
ver be grateful to his friend for that. But he was volatile when he was drunk and sometimes violent. And many times, he scared me. Often it resulted in me hiding in my room with the dogs until he passed out. I was done watching people destroy themselves. And I wasn’t about to let anyone else take me down again.
I gave him an ultimatum. Get sober or get out. He went to a facility and we both cried when he left. I felt like I had lost my husband and best friend within a year of each other, but I knew I couldn’t handle his drinking, even as a friend. It was all or nothing.
I was proud of him for going but scared for him too. I prayed for him and sent him letters. He came back after a few months, but that first day, I could smell alcohol on him. I asked him if he was drinking and he lied. I knew better.
Our friendship didn’t survive all the trauma. We haven’t spoken in a few years now. I don’t miss the chaos. I fear he will die a similar death to Jerry, or bitter and angry at the world. God removes people from your life when their part in your journey is over. His was over.
When the money started to run out (which didn’t take long considering the amount of debt we had accumulated) and I was physically getting better, I knew it was time to work again. I took a job as a home health care worker and for a while, I loved it. My water was turned off (I had been off for months getting physically well) and as crazy as it sounds, I didn’t freak out.
I still went to work. But only a few people knew. We got some 5-gallon jugs and my neighbor would fill them up for me. I used them to flush the toilet and take a bath (boiled the water on the stove to get it hot). God had already prepared me to handle this and provided a way to be okay through it. A couple of times, I was able to shower at the senior living center (where my favorite patient lived) or Paige’s boyfriend’s house.
I was determined to do this on my own. I didn’t last long in that job for a couple of reasons. I was growing too attached to these people and losing them crushed me. And the pay sucked. But I needed a job. An easy job. A job that in my way of thinking then was a “no brainer”.
I went to work as a cashier at Walmart (it even paid more than the home health care job) and it was just what I needed at the time. But it was DEFINITELY NOT a “no brainer” job.
The humility I learned while working there stays with me today. People I knew from OU would see me and I could see the judgement in their eyes, like “Poor Terri, look at what she’s become.” It was a good lesson for me, and physically it was more demanding than I anticipated, so it helped me get stronger too.
From then until NOW I make sure anyone who says degrading or disparaging things about Walmart employees know most of them have a back story. Many who are working two jobs or taking care of an elderly parent, or even saving for retirement. It’s HONEST, HARD work. And there is NOTHING demeaning about working there.
God knew I needed that humility and honestly, that built my faith even more. He provided.
The gig was up on my water situation when my sister came to visit and asked Paige why she couldn’t flush the toilet. She went to the water department and paid the bill AND put it on auto pay until I could handle it on my own.
When she could’ve easily walked out, she stepped up AGAIN. I had given them every reason to not believe me. Every reason to doubt what I was telling them was true because my actions spoke otherwise. I thank God EVERY single day for the people in my life who did not give up on me, even when I gave up on myself.
I made a conscious decision when God delivered me from my personal hell, that I would look for the blessings in everything. I would thank Him multiple times a day for picking me up and restoring me to what He intended. Every morning, when I wake, I say, “Good morning God, or good morning Father.” Every. Single. Morning. I still do. His healing me changed me. He changed my relationship with Him in a way I cannot put into words and He isn’t done yet.
I moved up at Walmart quickly. Started working in the money center and the service desk. Was a backup Customer Service Manager and I loved it.
What I hated was the schedule. Nights, weekends, holidays. But I gave it to God. I told him I would love a job that was Monday to Friday, 8am to 5pm, with holidays off.
Out of the blue, my friend, Chris called me and told me there was a job opening at OU Press where she worked and that she had already told her boss about me. Now, Chris and I have known each other YEARS. We worked together at the City of Norman years before, but we weren’t in contact daily, or even, weekly. But we always stayed in touch through the years.
It was a PEAK job, which meant it was through OU’s in-house temporary service, but it was Monday to Friday 8am to 5pm. And I loved working with Chris when we worked together at the City of Norman.
It paid a little less than Walmart and there was no insurance, and there was no guarantee that it would become permanent, but I felt like God was opening a door. So, I prayed about it. I still felt like God was leading me, and I took a leap of faith and applied for the job. I got it.
My Walmart coworkers gave me an awesome going away party and I was truly sad to leave them. Every time I go back in the store (to this day) they ask me when I’m coming back. I can’t even begin to tell you how awesome that feels.
This job was wonderful, and it worked so well from day one. Chris and I worked well together, and I loved our boss, Kathy. God is so good.
And then, a year after I started working at the Press, we got RIF’d. (Reduction in force). OU was doing away with the distribution of the books and outsourcing it. That meant Chris, Me, and the warehouse workers were going to be out of jobs soon.
OU had sent HR directors to deliver the news. They assured us we would be given higher priority to at least be granted interviews for other open positions as OU.
I was shaken. Maybe I had NOT been led here after all?
Chapter 27
Full Circle
I started applying for other jobs at the University and got an interview fairly quick with an academic unit on campus. I was nervous. I had never worked with faculty at OU in this capacity, I had been on the other side of things.
Working in HR and Administrative Offices doing budgeting/financial work. But I had great references, mad skills, and a burning desire to prove to myself I was not only capable, but worthy.
The interview went well, and I felt positive when I left. Not positive that I would get the job, but that regardless, I was honest, and that is what God wanted from me.
I remembered to thank God for the opportunity and continued working at the Press. Our RIF date was about 6 weeks away.
On Friday, a little after 5pm, I was on my way home, and my phone rang. I noticed it was an OU number, so I answered it (yes, I was driving, and I shouldn’t have, but I HAD to). It was from the Chair of the department, from the interview earlier in the week.
He OFFERED me the job!!!!!!!
I bet I told him multiple times how happy I was to accept. I could hear the laugh in his voice over my excitement.
I had come full circle by the grace of God alone. And I was so thankful.
I still work in that department, with that Chair, and I have never felt more satisfied in a job. There is NO doubt in my mind, that this was nothing of my own doing. This was all God. He had orchestrated it ALL for me to come full circle.
I’ve been with this job at OU for 3 years now. I’ve been telecommuting since March of 2020 (thank you Covid but thank you God that I have a job that allows me to telecommute) and I still feel satisfaction, respect, friendship.
Things aren’t perfect in my life, but God never promises that. He promises that He’ll walk with you, through things.
I’m a masterpiece in progress and if I can be here today, I can’t even begin to fathom where He will lead me from here. I have now NOT drank longer than I drank actively and that’s AMAZING. (going on 6 years in 2021!) I’m finding myself, slowly, but that is how God intended.
But....
Chapter 28
The Struggle is Real
I sti
ll struggle with things.
Like when I try to share something (which I just started doing in the last year or so) and someone tells me, “you’re only remembering the bad, try to remember why you loved him.”
And I thought, “You know, maybe they're right. Maybe I should try to think of things that way.” But the more I thought about that, the more I realized they had just done the same thing to me that he did.
They shut me up and invalidated me. I don’t think it was intentional at all, on the contrary, I think it was meant to help, but that’s what happens to people who have been abused. They've been muted by their abuser AND society.
Yes. There was good. Yes. I loved him. BUT HE ABUSED ME. Mentally, emotionally, financially, sexually, and physically.
Now that I am finally free of the control I gave him, and finally at a place that I’m getting more comfortable talking about it, they suggested I stop talking about it.
I never could talk about it. All those years, I kept silent because I couldn’t tell anyone.
And this made me revert right back to what I used to do, thinking I was in the wrong to speak of it.
I AM TIRED OF BEING SILENT!
I don't want anyone who’s ever been through trauma and abuse to ever feel invalidated or not heard.
I HEAR YOU. I AM YOU.
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do from here, other than continue sharing my journey and God knows. He’ll lead me there when it’s time, just like He led me to start a group that led to this book.
I told a good friend of mine I was almost sad that I had finished my story. Or at least the biggest parts of it. He said that was normal.
I can’t tell you how good it feels to be free from the mask I’ve worn for so long.
Did you know?
1 in 3 women and 1 in 4 men will experience rape, physical violence and/or stalking by an intimate partner. 12 million people PER YEAR are affected by DV. 12 MILLION. That’s a staggering statistic isn’t it? Even more staggering, almost ½ of all women and men in the US have experienced psychological aggression.