by Anna Hodges

Created on: December 16, 2009   Last Updated: March 09, 2010

Everything was finally unloaded from the moving truck and tightly stacked into the one-bedroom apartment. Some Christmas Eve this is, I thought. How I wished I could make this Christmas a happier time for my girls. They deserved so much more. I looked around and wondered how we would manage in such a small space. Lee Ann, my 14-year-old, would only be here for Christmas break, and then return to her dad's for school. Trisha, my 16-year-old and I would just have to make the best of it. It was all I could afford on the wages of a Certified Nurse Assistant.

I hated calling it quits after 12 years of marriage, but since his near-death accident on an oil rig 9 years prior, Bill had turned into an angry, unhappy man. For two years after the accident, I was his caregiver during several surgeries, as he progressed from a wheel chair to crutches, and then a cane. Whenever he called his primary doctor and told him he was hurting, the doctor did not hesitate to refill his pain pills. Then he began drinking along with the pills. If I refused to get alcohol for him, his so-called friends would feel sorry for him and deliver.

One night in a rage because dinner was put away instead of sitting out for him when he came home late, he proceeded to throw me on the floor and jump on my chest, slapping me in the face. This was a 6-foot, 2-inch man weighing 225 pounds. I was 5 feet, 4 1/2 inches and I weighed maybe 120 pounds. When I was able to barely get the words out, "Bill, stop, you're killing me" something snapped and he picked me up and threw me out into the snow in my bare feet. I went to the neighbors for help. I was thankful that he obeyed my wishes and did not bring his drinking home when my children were with us. This happened to be one of those times that they were with their father.

The next day I started packing to leave. Like so many other women in abusive relationships, I found it difficult to have him locked up. I loved him so much and always held out hope that he would change. He would always apologize, saying how much he loved me, bring gifts and promise to never do it again. Many times, he could not even remember what he had done, until he saw my bruises or black eyes. I would feel sorry for him and agree to try again. Because he saw that I was serious about leaving this time, he checked himself into rehab for substance abuse. He spent three weeks in St. Luke's rehabilitation center and was okay for about four months. When those he thought were his friends did

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