What Happened?

I take a risk in not hiding. But the internet has held me up, and I owe you my truth.


We were fighting.
Verbally fighting.

I could tell you the gory details of what it was about, but the more I look at it, the less relevant it becomes. I will not subjectively share our disputes with the world. I will, however, tell only the facts.
In a nutshell, there was a fight about my work hours and the issue of someone perhaps needing to work more hours than he was working.
In a nutshell, the SIL threw a little tantrum about leaving early b/c we were fighting. Fair enough if it is all kept to adults. But it wasn't, and Supergirl was distressed about this (untrue) news. I finally told the SIL to stop fucking with my kid's emotions and feel free to leave or not, as she was an adult. But make a choice.

Apparently this combination of arguing and taking a stand had an effect on the SIL that rendered her a traitor to all womankind helpless.

The verbal argument degraded.
There was shouting. There were swear words. There was shouting over one another, there was not listening.
I removed myself from the argument; from the unsolvable situation.
I walked away from them.

There was a physical rush. He and his sister rushed me. He grabbed me from behind, crossing my arms behind my back and pulling them up towards my neck.
"STOP!!!!! STOP!!! YOU ARE HURTING ME CALL 911 HELP STOP IT!!!"

She then yelled, "You want to fight? GO ON, FIGHT!!"

He yelled, "WE ARE HAVING AN INTERVENTION HERE. YOU ARE BEING INTERVENED. YOU ARE CRAZY YOU ARE HORMONALLY IMBALANCED YOU ARE CRAZY!!!"
(remember the ovarian cysts? well, not exactly hormonally imbalanced, as the bloodwork results clearly showed...but nice to know any physical ailment will be held against me!)

Bubbles came into the scene right about here.
"STOP DADDY!!! STOP STOP DADDEEEEEEE!!!"

"LET GO OF ME LET GO CALL 911. YOU ARE BREAKING MY ARMS HELP LET GO!!! CALL 911!"

And Auntie watched. Watched Bubbles watch. Didn't call 911.

"DADDY STOP! DADDY STOP! STOP DADDY!!!"

"CALL 911!!"

The shouting went on in my ear. The screaming went on out of my mouth. Finally he released me or I broke away- I am not sure - and I spun around in flailing mode, hand outstretched and caught him on the chin and barely the left cheek.
"Don't you EVER EVER restrain me AGAIN!!" I screamed at him. I bolted for the door and the children.
Then I was tackled.
"SOMEONE SHOULD HAVE DONE THIS TO YOU A LONG TIME AGO" he screamed in my ear. Then he folded my arms behind my back again but higher.
He put me in full nelson.
Then folded my chin into my chest, doubling me forward towards the tile floor.
I didn't know until then that you could choke someone without putting your hands around their neck.
"I CANNOT BREAAAATHE!!!!!!!!" I shouted to his sister, the phone was right next to her and I didn't see her move.

"I CAN NOt breathe..."
I said but I had no voice left and she picked up my son and left with him. Without the phone.

I didn't know if she was finally getting it that my son should not be involved or that she was removing him from witnessing something worse. He wasn't letting go and she finally took him out...I was pretty sure that was...the end.

He dropped me on the floor and stomped away. When I could get up, I ran for the children and packed them into the car.
We fled from the crazy.

Then I called the police. They called back to interview me a while later, but my children were traumatized from the event so I asked if I could come to the station myself to give the statement without them.
It was late; they suggested I come the next morning if I was in a safe place.

That morning I received an email from him, saying that he and his sister had packed a bag for the kids and me and had stashed it at the top of the driveway for me to retrieve. I told him he needed to leave.
He said he needed to off himself. With a bullet.
I had heard this too many times before.

On that Easter morning I gave my statement in a too-bright room to a very nice cop dude.
I cried a lot.
I took off my shirt and stood in a tank top against a white board so he could photograph the bruises on my arms.


I have heard he feels terrible. He 'knows' it is wrong to physically dominate someone, BUT he was 'only trying to get me to stop'.
There is always, a 'but' involved in his mea culpa.



As my firefighter friend says, "There is only one way to get someone to stop yelling, and that is to choke them to death."



We are okay. We have a lot of support, and we are all going to be okay. Even he will be, someday.