It\u2019s interesting to be able to see home base with fresh eyes. Upon each return, we\u2019ve managed to create fairly large donations to our local thrift store. My clothes closet is about 90% Kondo\u2019d and roughly 500 linear feet of bookshelves have had a healthy trim. I\u2019m getting ready to do it again. There was a time I couldn\u2019t let go of that sort of thing: meaningful items just disappeared. At the time I didn\u2019t get it. I think I\u2019m glad. Healing and spontaneity and wonderful, enriching experiences that seems to make \u201cstuff\u201d less important.<\/p>\n

[bctt tweet=”There was a time I couldn\u2019t let go: meaningful items just disappeared.” username=”AndreaPatten”]<\/p>\n

Over the past few months I\u2019ve met some wonderful people \u2014 and some real stinkers. The good ones have far outnumbered the others who, for better or worse, have provided me with lots of laughs. After all, the rude, the arrogant, and the entitled miss out on so much. Maybe they were put in my path to create contrast \u2014 like in a painting.<\/p>\n

There have been times that \u201chome\u201d made me feel stuck. Trapped. Overwhelmed. A partner who was impossible to satisfy: nothing was ever big enough, neat enough, tasty enough, or clean enough. The only item in the dirty laundry basket was usually the one he \u201dreally needed.\u201d Same for the groceries: whatever we were out of was what he wanted. Unfortunately, I loved him. So I tried.<\/p>\n

The music was wrong. My clothes and my job were wrong. My friends were wrong. I was wrong. Always, always wrong. Despite owning the building and paying all the bills, I never, ever felt at home. Life was good when he was happy so it was my goal to keep him that way. And when the moments of happiness got shorter and further apart, I tried harder.<\/p>\n

I began to sleep with easy-on clothes and shoes on the floor, just under the edge of my bed. I hid an extra key to my car. The day he finally hit me was one of the best days of my life: the emotional abuse was insidious. When he crossed the line, it was in a big way and I could no longer ignore it.<\/p>\n

How did I get from fun and adventure to domestic violence? Maybe it\u2019s gratitude for the contrast. Or maybe it\u2019s because a pink tsunami of well-funded breast cancer awareness groups have long ago overshadowed Domestic Violence Awareness month. While I appreciate the progress that has been made in treating breast cancer, I know that domestic violence thrives in secrecy and darkness. It\u2019s not a sexy cause. There are no cute slogans. People don\u2019t think about it \u2014 until they need to.<\/p>\n

[bctt tweet=”Domestic violence thrives in secrecy and darkness. It\u2019s not a sexy cause. There are no cute slogans. People don\u2019t think about it \u2014 until they need to.” username=”AndreaPatten”]<\/p>\n

There are millions of men and women who are not safe in their homes. Some are well aware of their circumstances but know it\u2019s not yet safe to leave. Others are like I was: being held emotionally hostage, groomed for the tangible violence to come.<\/p>\n

I felt safe in my travels. I feel safe at home \u2014 where I\u2019m overwhelmed with gratitude. And dust bunnies.<\/p>\n

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