Get Away From Me!

Yesterday I talked about the time I stood up to my ex with a knife. There was another time when in a panic I did something out of my nature.

We’d just moved into a new apartment and were getting ready for the birth of our daughter. I was eight months pregnant at the time. We’d set up the kids room and he was busy putting together a book case. Now mind you, I learned shortly after this if I wanted something put together I’d better do it myself. He didn’t have the patience and everyone paid for his inability to put things together.

My son was with my mother because we had a lot of unpacking to do and with a small one running around it made it difficult.

So the ex was cursing and throwing things around. I decided I couldn’t take it anymore and I was going to go to my mother’s house. I didn’t want to become the punching bag when things got worse and they were gonna get worse.

I stupidly told him what I was going to do as I walked out the door. I managed to get into the car and put my seat belt on before he flew out of the house. He opened the passenger side door and started pulling on my arm, screaming for me to get back into the house and help him. What he out of his f%ing mind? I wasn’t crazy enough to subject myself to anymore of his temper tantrum.

He continued pulling on my arm and I fought him off. He demanded I get out of the car, but I refused. He kept pulling and pulling…finally I had enough. I sucker punched him in the nose. Stunned, he backed away and got out of the car. I’m sure he was coming over to the driver’s side to rip me out. I put the car in gear and sped off. The door closed as I drove off. It wasn’t fully closed, but I wasn’t taking any chances by pulling over until I was far enough away from the apartment.

I’m not sure what gave me the strength to do that, most likely the safety of my unborn child. I just wish I’d gotten out then and never went back. Instead in stuck around for over ten more years.