I had what I thought was an averagely traumatic life escalated at times by an overbearing mate. Stressed out by the normal bill-paying, money-making, life-juggling routine. A wanting to have my cake, eat it and never run out--just like everybody else--scenario.

I ignored the symptoms of having way too much on my plate. My 'no no, this is my job and I have to do it,' mentality moistened by the maxims of societies "mores" and norms kept yanking at my bonds of servitude to be bigger, better, faster...more more more!

Although I felt over time as if I was automatically dumping masses of sacrificial duties into the mouth of an insatiable volcano, I kept doing it, lying to myself telling myself, "your're getting ahead, you're improving, things are getting better, you're growing!"

My life seemed okay. My kids, well most of them, were doing well in school. I had a nice home in a nice neighborhood and as long as I could hide the embarrassment my husband would cause me---there were times when I was too embarrassed to even leave my house to check the mail, or go out to play with my children---I was fine.

I thought I would get some assets stashed, make sure I had plenty of backing and then file for a divorce and custody of the children, find some serenely peaceful place on earth without some intrusive, overbearing control freak and live happily ever after?

Time was running out on me and I knew it. I was feeling run down too much of the time, I was getting forgetful, procrastinating more, things weren't getting done as often as they should. And I was finding it progressively more difficult to drive in traffic, grocery shop...leave the house.

I melted down completely one day. For the weekend, my husband suggested a trip to Reno with the kids...Reno? Kids? To me, that wasn't equivalent to family together time, but it did no good to complain about it because he would then scratch ANY family outing time and lay around the house yelling at everyone making the weekend as miserable as he possibly could and because of that, I HATED weekends. I dreaded them coming knowing he was going to be around making the kids and I as miserable as he always was.

He was also a trip saboteur and would begin to yell at everyone and fight with me as soon as all the doors were closed and the car was in motion. But the Reno trip was something HE wanted to do, so there was some hope that he just MIGHT be pleasant during the trip. In my head, I was mapping out how I was going to keep the events revolving around Circus Circus to make the kids happy as well.

Perhaps it was the stress of having to maneuver the situation, or maybe it was not knowing if and when hubby was going to freak out and start yelling and cussing at everyone. Whenever I got cussed at I was reduced to a "filthy fucking whore" in front of God, the children and anyone else with ears. He didn't care he had no shame...but I did...lots of it. I constantly felt ashamed of myself and would begin to shake uncrontrollably whenever he became angry because I was going to be deprecated, humiliated and castigated in front of ANYBODY present. Well, with the exception of family and company parties or casual get-togethers with his friends, (I was never allowed to have any) then he became Mr. I-Am-The-Greatest-Husband/Father-On-Earth, a duality that would just sicken me.

Maybe it was because of the experience of him getting pissed over something one of the children did, and I would be stranded on foot walking when he jumped in the car to drive away, in so many strange towns with children screaming out of their wits with fear because they thought we had been abandoned with no money, no ride...just left all alone to fend for ourselves.

It could have been a combination of all the residual trauma. But whatever it was, the next thing I knew, my entire body was trembling uncontrollably, my heart raced, sparks and stars were flashing in front of my eyes, I could not breathe...and then, starting from my toes and fingers, racing through my body all the way up to my face coursed a numbing, tingling sensation which left the whole of my body entirely numb.

The nervousness, shaking and heart-racing had been going on for awhile but never had my body gone so completely numb that I lost completely all motor functions. I knew I was going to die.
Scared to death, I plead with him to do something he glared and snapped at me, "what the f**k do you want me to do Shannon! Why are you trying to ruin this trip for me?"

That attack began a series of traumatic anxiety responses that were triggered by minor things on a daily basis. My heart would race so out of control that my chest would start hurting and I had grown more afraid to drive in fear that I would have a heart attack at the wheel and kill the kids.
I finally sought treatment, ended up on a medication that was meant for rescue purposes only, but nothing long-term. All I knew was I was stuck in some funneled nightmare unable to escape. I was also becoming aware that the drug was an addictive one and soon my body started launching into attacks in order to be rewarded with its...I hate to say it...fix.

That day also begun a series of inspirations, searches for the answer to cure me, the beginning of a journey...a very long journey combined with joy, laughter, tears and bittersweet memories. The same journey that allowed me to accept love from the most awesome man I have ever met, and the one that hardened my resolve to save myself from from HELL.

Now I am here, at this point, childless...the object of an ex-husband's vindictive ploy to ruin my life because he was no longer wanted in it. I was always told by him each time I mentioned getting a divorce that he would stop at nothing to make sure I did not get a thing, including the children. I didn't believe him. But the fights over property, possessions and the children were settled when he started reporting lies to CPS.