Broken Window

When something important was supposed to take place it seemed my ex had to ruin it. It was October 1999 and I was scheduled to take the state exam. I’d been on the waiting list for a few years and was excited. Doing well meant I might get offered a job and be able to better myself and my family.

The test was on a Saturday morning, so the sh*t hit the fan on Friday night. I’m not sure why, but he hated the idea of me doing good or bettering myself. We fought like we always did. You’ll hear this a lot, but I can’t remember what we fought about. It just never stuck in my mind. My other thoughts were getting the fight over without being hit or tortured in any way.

This night he decided to leave most likely to go some pot and calm down. While he was out he was drinking in my car. So here he is driving around, pissed off for god only knows why and drinking. He went to throw his beer bottle out the window (yes, I know a litterer). The window wasn’t down and the beer bottle shattered the window.

Now I’m home with three children trying to get some sleep for the big test the next day. He came home and started the fighting all over again. The window shattering was MY fault. If it weren’t for ME he wouldn’t have broken the window. Yeah okay.

So the fighting started over again. Here I am in our sun room and he’s screaming, yelling and smacking me. The fighting continued until four in the morning. I didn’t let him defeat me. I got up the next morning, put plastic on my passenger’s side window and drove to the test. I was exhausted, stressed and beyond defeated, or so I thought. I took the test and did well.

Even though he didn’t want me to go, I still did. Beaten down emotionally or physically wouldn’t stop me. I was determined to live and be better for my kids.