Happy Divorciversary to Me!

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By Bethany “BST2” Armstrong

Two years ago today, I sat in a courtroom ready to sever the bounds that held me to the man who raped, abused, and gaslit me for over twenty years. I met him at 19. With low self-esteem and messed up childhood, I was easy pickings for a broken man-child. He was charming at first; they all are. It was a couple of months into our marriage – and my pregnancy – when he put his fist through a wall because he didn’t want to go to work. It deteriorated from there.

But this isn’t a trauma story. This is my victory story. After years of fear, I met a man who listened to my story and wanted to help, even if I wanted nothing to do with him after I was free. It was his eyes I looked into while I gathered the strength to tell the judge I wanted my freedom. It was his hand I held when it was officially over.

I was shellshocked at first. I didn’t really believe I’d be free. I genuinely thought my ex would take me out in a murder-suicide or harm the children. The sudden lift of perpetual fear left me a little giddy. When all was said and done, my gorgeous guy, my best friend said six precious words to me. “Can I be your man now?” (Spoiler: I said yes.)

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