Two Years Later

It still amazes me just how much can change in two years. Seven hundred and thirty days. And I couldn't be more thankful for it.

Today, I'm at the splash pad with my daughter, watching her run around with other kids and realizing just how far we have come and still have to go. Two years ago, after arguing for close to three hours, Brendan had punched my fridge so hard that his knuckles had started swelling up and bruises were starting to show. And I remember so vividly him just screaming at me "Look what you made me do!! I probably broke my hand!"

And I couldn't help but laugh. I laughed a lot in those days, but not the laugh if a happy woman, not the belly laugh that I have come to be known for. The laughter back then had been laughter of disbelief, of astonishment, of bitterness that I would be blamed for the actions of an abusive man's actions.

I remember him cradling his hand, screaming in pain, yelling at me, and me just being thankful that the pain was taking him away from his jealous and asinine argument. I remember laughing at him and asking how him punching the fridge was my fault. I remember him screaming that his hand was broken, and would probably never heal correctly, and me screaming back that if he was so positive it was broken then we should get him to the hospital. I remember him crying on the ride to the hospital, and me feeling no empathy for his pain.

And when the receptionist at the Emergency Room asked what we were in for, I remember saying, "Oh, he tried to punch my fridge and the fridge won." With as much snark and sass as I could muster. And sitting down, I remember him glaring at me before going back to crying over his swollen knuckles.

So many aspects of that year and a half with Brendan killed parts of who I was and made me discover parts of myself I didn't know were there. Above all else, I discovered that I am a survivor, that my laughter can be both my best weapon and my strongest shield. But my heart still breaks a bit to realize that the happiest Hufflepuff can turn into the deadliest Slytherin when pushed into a corner and abused so drastically.