About Me

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Lyndonville, Vermont, United States
Hi there and welcome to my blog. I am a married 60 year old woman who still has the mind of a twenty year old. I have three children and two grandsons. I've been to hell and back each time stronger than the time before. If I can help you then it was all worth it.

Thursday, October 10, 2019

My Stay At a Shelter For Abused Women And Children #DomesticViolence#Shelters#GetHelp

I was on Facebook looking at my page of this blog. I added a couple of links for help. Somehow I got lassoed into a group that connects your page with similar pages of your blog. In other words, I wouldn't want a Fishing blog connected to my page Shameful Secrets on Facebook. I'm still learning so I'm going to read some of these blogs some more see what they are doing. I'm pretty much a newbie at this. I found this link Healthy Place while I was posting for my page reading it sure hit home bringing back the second time I have ever been in a shelter. I wasn't so scared this time around. It was just the anticipation of somewhere new the uprooting and upheaval of my life.

My husband whom I have lived with and married all together 15 years now was a domestic abused husband. His older wife by 6 years was a beer drinker. She was a mean drunk. My husband had drunk when he was in college being told by his friends in his dorm he was an asshole when he got too drunk. So he quit which having quit several addictions for I was very curious, I greatly admired. He put up with her getting sloppy drunk leaving her at the bar he was playing at. He used to be in bands. That's how they met. She would call demanding he come and get her. She would throw things at him. He thought thats how marriage was sticking with it for 12 years before he got away. Telling a little of his story I'm reminded there are men's shelters as well.

I had just been pushed all around my little son's room. Every time I would stand up protesting what he was telling me I had done got pushed down again. We had been to a party. He got someone to bring me home. Where I lived I had made a few friends. I had been left behind a lot leaving me to my own devices. I had a friend who lived in an attic named Al. It was purely a platonic relationship he felt like my brother. I was up having a beer with him chatting away when I heard some noise downstairs and was delighted that he had come home. When I ran down the stairs all hell broke loose. As usual, I was accused of messing around being pushed down over and over again. Finally, I broke free running over to a neighbors apartment I had befriended heartbroken that it was happening again. I had called the shelter that was in the next town before so they were ready for me. Taking a deep breath I called the number. Waiting at the window I saw the car going downstairs. I had nothing but the clothes on my back.

Surprisingly enough this shelter was directly across from this supermarket I shopped at when I had lived in this town. I called my friend relieved to hear he had packed up all my stuff storing it up at his place. My ex had to move for neither one of us were working he had to move taking my little son with him. A woman had been watching him while I was being used like a rag doll. The shelter was this enormous house with lots of rooms, a common room, kitchen with an office where the staff worked during the day. I was there a month looking and finding a job and an apt. My goal was to get my little son back. I knew that my ex couldn't or wouldn't hold down a job bouncing from place to place partying always on his mind. When I got my apt. I got my son going to a friend's house which I heard through the grapevine that my son was there. Calling the local police an officer, he was over 6 feet tall drove me over to this place where my son was. When I asked my son where daddy was he told me daddy went out but would bring back popcorn. Getting him into the police car with great relief I had retrieved my son.

So you see shelters are not scary. The women who run the place are very nice with all the resources you could ever need. I remember I was there through Mother's day going down to the cellar where it had been made into a huge craft room. I sat down with my son helping him to make me a card. He was 3 years old. After that is a new life and another story.

I love this link. It touched my heart. How-To-Recover-From-Emotional-Trauma-Of-Domestic-Abuse


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