Bodyguard

Photo by Zachary Lisko @ Unsplash

For the last several days, an old scenario has resurfaced, being surrounded by imaginary bodyguards, beefy guys who mean business. What triggered this old survival technique? Perhaps the description of the woman’s attacker in the thriller I’m reading resembled my abusive ex-husband too close, or the scene held details too similar to my own experiences, or I may never know.

It was Sunday. I told my husband I was going to church with my parents.

I didn’t lie. I did go to church, but what I didn’t tell him, I wasn’t planning on coming home afterward. The previous night he had gone into a rage and held a pillow over my face until I stopped struggling.

Yet, even with all the abuse, I didn’t want a divorce. I wanted a loving husband and family. I begged God to change him.

In answer, I heard a voice. “He will never change and if you stay, you will be dead within the year.”

Terrified, I told my parents I was leaving my husband. Our pastor recommended my dad escort me to the house to pack some clothes. The boys and I would hide for several weeks until we could get legal protection in place.

My husband lay in bed the entire time I packed, not saying a word. It was more terrifying than if he’d screamed at me.

I risked a look back as we left the house. My husband sat on the roof holding a rifle across his lap. I still have no clue how he got up there without us seeing him.

My dad gestured for me to keep walking. That was the longest, scariest walk of my life, waiting for bullets to fly.

None came that day.

However, the stalking began immediately. He threatened me with guns and phone calls. He popped up in parking lots, outside my workplace, and in restaurants.

I’d see a police officer and have the urge to run to him and ask him to protect me.

With therapy, the panic attacks and nightmares receded. After I married my current husband, an active member of law enforcement at the time, the fears subsided a little more.

Usually once I figure out where the emotions are coming from, they go away. This morning, God added another layer of assurances during my devotions.

“Yea, the very hairs of your head are numbered. Fear not therefore: You are of more value than many sparrows.”

Fear not.

I’m trying.

I want to replace the images of burly bodyguards with sparrows. Well, maybe beefy guards with guns and sparrows nearby.

One day, I won’t need the imagery. One. Day.