Janey's Story - Part 3

The great escape

I know, I know – it sounds melodramatic. However, at that time I thought of it just that way. In my mind, I was the hapless soldier in the movie, “The Great Escape,” and I was going to be hunted down and killed if I didn’t get it right.


It was a Tuesday morning in March – beautiful weather, nothing apparently amiss. Although I was terrified on the inside, I was cheerful during breakfast. I wished my husband a great day and kissed him good-bye at the door. He started the hour-long commute to his work, thinking I was fifteen minutes behind him on the way to mine.


I then waited the hour it would take him to reach his job. What if he came back because he forgot something? What if he felt ill on the commuter train and turned around? I couldn’t risk starting to pack until I knew he was safely at the other end. After an appropriate amount of time, I called a colleague and verified that my husband was there – he was. I asked that he not tell my husband I called and he agreed (even if he had told him, I had an hour head start).


Next I took out my list and packed every item in my little hatchback car. I had a dog and a cat (mine before the marriage) which I needed to drop off at my father’s house, two hours north of where I lived. I called my retired father and gave a short account of what was going on, promising more detail when I arrived. I then left a brief good-bye letter for my husband and headed for my Dad’s.


I stayed at my father’s house only a couple of hours. He understood why I couldn’t stay with him, thank goodness, and trusted that my colleague, Linda, was the best place to stay. So I left my dog, cat and keepsakes with him and got back on the road.


I arrived at Linda’s house, which was three and a half hours in the opposite direction, by early evening. I lived with her a little over three weeks. My boss at work was understanding, assuring me that my job was not in jeopardy and would be there for me when I returned. I spoke with my therapist several times during my stay. He contacted my husband and subsequently counseled me to stay away from both my hometown and my work. He said my husband was out of control and I should not risk contact. I waited until the therapist gave me the go-ahead before renting a small apartment and moving back near my work.


Moving on
I was lucky in so many ways. My husband’s behavior got him fired from his job and he left town. After he calmed down, my husband never tried to contact me. I had a good job to return to and supportive colleagues. The rebuilding process could begin.


This all happened over twenty years ago, but the experience was so intense that the memories seem crystal clear. And if you ask me right now who the most memorable people are in my life – guess who’s at the top of the list?


Reach out when it’s time to go – the Linda’s of this world are out there. I know I will never forget mine.