Through the Door

I was scared, beyond scared, terrified. I could hardly speak and was shaking so much I could barely even walk. My two young sons were with my grandmother and I was trying to do something, to be brave enough to go back to judo.

For those of you that don’t know, judo is a full contact sport, somewhat like wrestling or the now popular Brazilian Jujitsu. Women in classes are scarce, especially during this time. Joining a judo class would require me to go on the mat, do exercises to strengthen my body and to get close- very close physically to men.

I was a black belt, that meant I was expected to manage myself and behave in certain ways, and being scared to even walk into the room, wasn’t one of those ways. It had been going on for a long time. That last weekend, just 8 days before I stood in front of this door, trying to make myself go in, ended it. He came home, I wasn’t expecting him, so dinner wasn’t ready. He was angry and wanted me to himself. Shoved up the stairs, stripped and locked in the bedroom, I waited. Then he burst through the door and it began. I didn’t know what he had done to my boys and so I did my best to appease him. He would leave the room every once in a while, locking me in. I endured and he finally settled down. It took 3 days. And then he left.

Crawling down the stairs in a t-shirt and panties, I peaked around the corner and saw that my boys were ok. I didn’t want them to see me this way, so I snuck out the front door. The Sheriff’s office was only 1 ½ blocks away. This was a very small town. Outside of a few odd looks, no one said anything to me as I walked down the street barefoot through the winter snow. I entered the Sheriff’s office and asked for help.

We left the next day, I didn’t tell anyone. I told the boys we were going on a vacation and to grab all their favorite things and some clothes. I went to the bank and took out what money I had- my rent money- and hoped it would be enough. We disappeared.

And here I was, trying to find something of what I used to be. A real person, and a judo black belt. I had grown up in the sport, it was where I was strong, and it was a way of life and the culture I had grown up in. I had been away. Away from any resemblance of my life, of any employment, of anything that was me. Somehow, I needed to get through that door and join the class. I needed the strength. Judo had been a place where I belonged. I knew that if I could only get there, I would begin to learn who I was again.

The doors were glass and I could see the families on the other side, having fun. I held my breath and looked at the ground. I didn’t know how I was going to do this. I didn’t have any money to pay for a uniform, much less the national registration I needed if I was to practice. I didn’t have any of my records to prove that I had done this before, and had a black belt. I had nothing to give, I was homeless, living on my grandmother’s good will. I still had to try. My boys deserved a mother that could take care of them. They deserved a mother with strength and confidence.

Taking another breath and holding it, with tears running down my face, I stepped through that door.    I made it in.