Strategy and Courage

There is life after abuse.  I can promise anyone that. The thought of being abused never occurred to me.  I've always lacked courage even though I've been so tough.  It's been 12-13 years since I had been beaten and left for dead.  All this time has gone by and for some reason the last couple years I've been having terrible flashbacks and visions of things that happened.  It kills me what I put myself and my boys through because I was nervous, scared, vulnerable, and I was so sad.  I remember it like it was yesterday and I hate myself for feeling so stuck in those times.  

We were eating dinner. My son didn't do anything wrong and my ex took it upon himself to say that he did.  He said he mouthed back and that was the reason he picked my son up by his neck, held him on the washing machine before he threw him in a cold shower.  My son was 7 years old.  My ex held me back and wouldn't let me get to my son.  There is no excuse.  I couldn't protect my son and every single day it haunts me.  I love my kids so much.  I was manipulated and over ruled by this man. The only choice I found myself to be left with was building a strategy for breaking free. So one day when I knew he was going to be gone most of the day I packed up mine and the boys things and stuffed whatever I could into the vehicle and we left.  

Unfortunately he got to me and I came back.  That only happened once before I finally left again for good.  I don't know exactly why I went back.  Probably had to do with the fact that he was waiting at my mom's house for me one day.  He had his mom with him and was crying his eyes out.  I didn't want to go back with him. I didn't want to live at my moms either. That feeling of failure, shame, sadness came upon me like a wave and I was so confused.  The only thing that mattered to me was getting my son back because letting him go was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.  I allowed my sons father to have custody of him for his own safety. I was so afraid that my ex was going to put his hands on me and my son would try to stick up for me and end up hurt or dead. 

It all keeps playing over and over in my head and I can't help but hate myself so much for not being able to protect my child.  This man hurt my baby boy and I wasn't able to do anything about it.  It just keeps playing in my head; the question keeps confronting me.  Why did I allow myself and my boys to end up in a situation where that all happened? 

Today my son is the sweetest young man.  He is thoughtful and always willing to help someone.  He's a little naive which is somewhat worrisome though his experiences have given him a good head to carry around. When he speaks he is a loud and likes to be heard especially when he's going on a rant about the way of the world.  He talks big and bad ass like nobody will ever fuck with him, or like he will knock someone out or he won't accept someone talking down to him.  When/If the time comes that he should confront someone or make a phone call or ask someone something he doesn't.  He has reasons why,  It just occurred to me recently why he acts like that and it has every thing to do with what happened to him.  He wants to talk and act tough because he hasn't accepted what went on when he was 7. It's his way of feeling tough; his armor against people like my ex. He's presenting himself in a way that he hopes will give the impression to people that he is stout.

Is there anyone out there that has realized that they fucked up? Does anyone feel this deep sorrow a couple times a day? This shame?