Continuation of pull up your big girl pants
Dear loved ones,
I would rather be talking about pulling down my big girl pants and tossing them away and be liberated from all fetters. I have been under constraints and in captivity most of my life, childhood and adult, so now I just want to run wild and be free. You have all heard of the example of a spring that is pressed too tight, when the pressure is released it will just bounce all over the place. Well, that is me. Just a bouncy spring.
Today I wanted to write about the time a person told me to pull up my big girl pants and do what needed doing.
On August 26, 2018 I drove my husband to the hospital to get himself checked for a bladder infection. I didn’t believe he had an infection but he was trying to blame his actions of late on this condition. He wanted an excuse for his horrendous behaviour towards me. This bladder infection was making him act crazy, excuse.
Days before he had confessed to a health care person that he had been physically violent towards me. Why he told on himself, I did not know because he had always covered it up before. The health care person’s name was Faith.
Faith called me and asked for details about this physical violence and whether this was all recent and if there was anything else I wanted to tell her about the situation. I told everything and left nothing out. It occurred to me that the constant emotional and mental abuse did not register with anyone but only when physical violence occurs will it be taken seriously.
We waited a long time in the waiting room at the hospital and many others were getting looked after who had arrived long after us. While waiting I received a phone call from Angelica, the head of the health unit. She is the one that told me to speak to the doctor about what has been going on and that they were going to keep him in the hospital for a few days so that would give me time to move out of my home. Also, Angelica was the one that said, “Pull Up Your Big Girl Pants and Do What You Have to Do! because I was hemming and hawing and being afraid to actually walk away (or run away) when given the chance. The opportunity was being placed before me and all I had to do was follow through. This opportunity would not come again.
“What if he doesn’t have a bladder infection, how can you keep him here”?
The doctor told me that my husband didn’t have a bladder infection, but they were going to keep him for a few days for observation. The doctor was in on it and lied saying intravenous antibiotics was necessary.
I considered this an intervention of the angelic kind, because I didn’t know how I was going to escape without being beaten to death first. My husband was 20 years older than me, but he was very strong and powerful especially when in a rage.
It occurred to me later that this all fell together so smoothly, and just look at the names of the people involved:
- First husband telling on himself
- Doctor Brave
I had 24 hours to pack up my things and leave my home. I took some clothes, artwork and painting supplies, some photo albums and little else.
Everything was left behind, all my personal belongings, but I did not care. The only thing that mattered was freedom and my life. I am getting the chance to finally live. Yeh!
Thank you for reading my post today. It is not the least bit funny or sexy, but it is true and it is a relief for me to share it with you. Thank you again for being here. I love you. Hugs & Kisses, Summerhill Lane