There are times, like the first time I spoke to my pastor and realized that what he was saying might not work, that you need to think about leaving.
It was shortly after my meeting at the church that I was physically abused again. This time my husband wouldn't let me leave the house or our bed. He threw me on it, and then he wrapped his arm around me when I tried to get up. He told me, in no uncertain terms, that he was not letting me leave the apartment. At a time like that, the best advice I can give is what I did. Stay still, try to pray, meditate, or breathe slowly; whatever it takes to try to calm down. I prayed and planned what I was going to do next.
After work the next day, I got home before he did, grabbed a few belongings and went to my parent's house where I spent the next few days.
The problem was that my father didn't quite "get it," if you know what I mean. My mother, God rest her soul, said that I shouldn't have to live like that. But neither one of them offered me to stay in their home until I could figure out what to do next! I felt like I had no choice but to return to my husband, and that's what I did.
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