Built then broken, found, then again forgotten. It all begins with promises we made; contracts we penned with permanency in our hearts. Two souls were fallen fast in love. The romance novel delivers and does not disappoint; happily-ever-after is both expected and celebrated! But sometimes the binding on a fairy tale frays and the ending becomes even darker than a nightmare.

I met my husband when I was 15; he was 17. The universe must have been in alignment because we gravitated towards one another immediately. There was magic; there still is. We respect one another tremendously, and we care enough to make communication a priority. In fact, this June we will celebrate our 35th wedding anniversary. 5 Kids later, we're even more in love.

He calls me his "bride," but like his queen, I share his castle keep. Armed with unequivocal kindness and loyalty, he rode in on his horse and rescued me. Ever since our very beginnings, he protected me from my abuser, encouraged me to find healing, and held me tightly when I crumbled like age-old mortar. Days when my soul felt cold and empty, the fire in his heart warmed me. When I couldn't see tomorrow, he promised me an entire future. I soon realized that as soul mates we are even stronger together.

Just as there are soul mates, some relationships spawn cell mates. The monarch rules with tyranny, indifference, and callousness. The subjects are victimized and violated; they have become despondent. Left diminished, the souls of these victims are all but dead.

How could this happen?

Like the worst battles in history, some face relentless persecution. It's never fair, and the effects on its victims are likely all-encompassing. Fraught with anger and frustration, these victims then perpetuate this unfortunate legacy on their forsaken victims. The cycle of abuse becomes accepted as the norm, leaving a trail of prey. Akin to chain mail, this mistreatment and disregard are linked and intertwined throughout generations to come.

Make no mistake; neither physical nor emotional abuse are as aceptable as our villains would have us believe. While in the clutches of abuse we feel depleted and seek the strength to save ourselves. We forget that we never signed up to fight in this battle. We have no weapons, yet find ourselves on the front line.

I made my choice. I realized that in my situation I had to make the choice between relegating myself to the dungeon or facing my abuser with all the strength I could muster. I chose me. You also have a choice to make.

Typically my blog posts are much longer than this one, which is intentionally succinct. I believe in your ability to make the choice between your abuser and yourself. Only you can write the ending of this story. It's your story...

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