You’ve read a few of my post where I talk about my ex. We’ve had a fucked up toxic relationship for years. I’ve lied to myself and others and have tried to make myself believe that we are truly friends. But honestly speaking, in my head we were. Perhaps I was holding on to something that didn’t deserve my presence just for the sake of not being alone. Perhaps I held on to this relationship to avoid making my kids angry at me… I couldn’t tell you why I’ve done this except for the fact that I wasn’t ready to let go.

I am going to share an experience with you that may turn some of your stomachs. You may question what kind of mother I am. But what you will not do is see me as a victim, but a woman on the path of surviving…

I’ve let him sweet talk his way back into our lives after The Getaway… This isn’t the first time he’s worked his way back with empty promises and puppy dog eyes either. I’m just a sucker. I’m filled with guilt of our kids not having their father in their lives full time. Mind you, this man and I are not physically intimate. No. He has another type of control over me – emotional.

I’ve always painted a beautiful picture of this man. I’ve never wanted anyone to judge him or see him for who he really is. Because in my head, he wasn’t really like that. Only when he drank. The ex is a functional drug addict and alcoholic. Since our separation, his addictions have worsened and they have started to take a toll on his personal life.

Recently, he has been verbally abusive towards me. But only when he’s drunk. I finally had a talk with him about his disease (drug and alcohol dependency). I told him how it was affecting our family. He said he was going to try to get clean on his own and if he couldn’t do it he promised he had help waiting. He listened. Or so I thought.

So… I let him come back to LA (he lives in Denver). I let him stay in my home. Things were good for five days. He was spending time with the kids. He was home almost every night having dinner with us. He was playing the part of an amazing co-parent.

It is now Saturday, I had to work in Newport Beach for the day. Our youngest just came down with the crappy Spring cold everyone was getting and the oldest was enjoying an opportunity to sleep in. The ex told me he was gonna find a place for us to watch the fight (Canelo vs Chavez).

After work, I call the ex. He is fucking WASTED! He is repeating stories, speaking arrogantly, and completely oblivious to his previous promise that I don’t dare mention. I’m pissed off and annoyed and know this is NOT the time to mention it. We hang up. I arrive at home and our youngest is upset because his dad was suppose to pick them up hours ago and never made it. In my mind I’m thanking the gods that he never did. The ex thinks he’s better at everything when he’s drunk – parenting, socializing, DRIVING! He would’ve put my babies in danger. To distract my kids from the awful parenting choice my ex made, I take them to dinner. We go to a local phô restaurant. We eat. We laugh. We have a great time. While we’re there the ex sends a text stating he’s on his way home. I don’t think anything of it. As a matter of fact, I honestly don’t even think he’s gonna show up. It’s almost 10pm and we arrive back at the house. Our youngest shoots to the back room.

This is when the story takes a turn for the worse…

The ex rises from my bed as soon as our youngest walks into the room. He asks where we were. I tell him I took the kids to dinner to eat phô. He scoffs “Phô? Who eats that shit? There’s no Vietnamese in LA.” I think he’s fucking with me and respond by telling him to “tell that to the packed restaurant we were just in.” Nope. He’s really angry about this. Starts saying ignorant shit. I finally stand up and tell him that’s enough. He continues. I tell him he’s drunk and needs to stop. He tells me to shut up. I again tell him he’s drunk, to shut up and go to sleep. Our youngest yells “STOP!” and walks away to his room. I walk to my closet and begin to change. The ex walks to where I’m at and proceeds to verbally abuse me. His words cut like daggers in my heart. But I just laugh and tell him he’s drunk and to go to bed. He’s now in my face talking shit and calling me names. I tell him to leave. He stumbles a few steps back still talking shit. I ask him to leave again. He starts telling me that he has videos of my kids talking shit about me and how they hate me and are miserable. I laugh again and tell him I doubt it and that he has outstayed his welcome. He jolts to the boys’ room. Starts yelling at them and asking if they’re ready for him to show me these videos. They look confused. I let him know that even if he has videos that I could care less. I’m not my childrens’ friend. That at some point they’re going to be upset with me. My oldest tells him if he has videos to please play them. The youngest tells asks him what he’s doing. I again asks him to leave. I make him aware of what he’s doing in front of the kids. This whole time I hadn’t raised my voice but instead took a stern tone. I finally yell “you’re a belligerent drunk!” He stares me in my eyes and starts to say some of the most fucked up things a man could tell a woman, especially a woman whom he spent over a decade with and raised a family with. At this point, we are back in my room. I’ve reached my boiling point. I slap him. In doing so, I was NOT ready for what was returned. At the most, I’d expect a slap back. He punches me dead in the nose. And then again on the left side of my mouth. The boys see all of this! Our oldest son flies over to where we are and pushes his dad off of me screaming at him. The ex kicks him in the stomach. My oldest isn’t a violent man. Never has been. And I’m confident, never will be. He never even balled up a fist to his dad. Only pushed him off of me. Of course, mother bear comes out and I lose it when I see him kick our child. I push my ex so hard that he falls onto my bed. We’ve now found ourselves wrestling and in/out of headlocks. I’m screaming at him for hurting our child. Then the youngest tries to get his dad off. His dad pushes him back forcefully. I finally stop flailing around and scream and cry at him to please just leave. The kids are screaming and crying at him to leave. I’m not sure how I mustered up the strength but I start pushing him towards the front door. I can feel my face starting to swell and blood drip from my nose. The ex gives me his puppy dog eyes and says “you can’t throw me out like this!” He’s in his t-shirt and boxers. I explain that he better not move from where he’s standing. I run to my bedroom, grab his stuff, and run back to where he is. My oldest son is there with him. I see my ex leaning into him saying something. I don’t know what he’s saying. I am calm. I’m not sure why but I feel in control. I tell him to put on his pants and get out. He’s pleading for me not to do this. I push him out the door and lock it behind him.

I grab my oldest and hug him so tight. We go to their room where my youngest has been. I grab them and hold them tightly. I hold them and apologize for what just happened. I make sure that physically they are ok as I already know the answer to how they are emotionally… I can see the hurt in my oldest’s eyes as he examines my face. He cries. I’ve never seen him hurt like this. It pains me to my core! I am filled with anger and sorrow. How have I let this happen?!

To be continued…


Abuse comes in many different forms. None of them are ok. If you or someone you know is in danger, there is help out there. You can PM me, call the police, contact your local Domestic Violence Center, or contact The National Domestic Violence Hotline.