“Patience is not simply the ability to wait – it’s how we behave while we’re waiting.” — Joyce Meyer
Today has been one of those endless waiting days. Not waiting for something small, but waiting on the court to decide whether my abusive ex will finally face accountability.
By 5:10 p.m., I finally got a call back from the Victim/Witness Assistance Program. The update? The child abuse case is heading to a pre-judicial trial on October 7. That means a judge will decide if there’s enough evidence to send the case forward to trial. Not the trial itself, just another step in a long process of hearings and delays.
I also learned that the rape case — technically called sexual assault in court, but I call it rape because that’s what it was. The legal term “sexual assault” covers everything from someone touching your breast inappropriately all the way up to rape. To call it anything less would be to minimize what I lived through and I no longer keep quiet about what happened. That case, which is scheduled for trial on January 14–15, 2026, actually has a pre-trial on September 10 — something I didn’t even know about. A pre-trial is a meeting between the Crown, defence, and judge to sort out what evidence will be allowed, how long the trial will take, and how it will unfold. It isn’t the trial, but it decides the shape of it. By the time the trial finally begins, it will have taken nearly two years to reach court. This also gives him an opportunity to accept a plea deal or decide if he goes to trial if it is a judge or a judge and jury – he gets to choose… seems unfair he gets choices here when I am so powerless.
The bail breach, on the other hand, is being treated just like any other criminal charge. His next date is October 2. He was arrested for being at a location his bail conditions explicitly forbade him from entering on a specific day of the week for my safety — to me, it’s black and white. I assumed today would bring sentencing, but that isn’t how the system works. Somehow, even after 20 months of living in this nightmare, I missed that reality: bail breaches don’t get dealt with immediately. They go through the same drawn-out process as every other charge — first appearances, adjournments, administrative delays, scheduling, trial. Another layer of the administrative nightmare that keeps victims suspended in limbo.
And then there’s family court. My lawyer confirmed that my ex and his lawyer would only agree to adjourning tomorrow’s motion if I accepted week-on/week-off custody of my son. That is a hard no. Especially since I only just got my old lawyer’s case files yesterday — the first day they were even available for pickup. There is no way to prepare properly for tomorrow. So instead, we’ll go in, request the adjournment for a few weeks’ time, and ask the court to award costs against my ex. He and his lawyer could have agreed to a straightforward adjournment and spared the court’s time. They chose not to. That waste shouldn’t fall on me, but it may as I have had these court costs assigned to me before.
This is why the courts are so backed up. Delay, delay, delay — while lawyers make a fortune and victims live suspended in limbo. Even after 20 months of navigating this system, I still make mistakes about what happens when, what hearing means what, or what to expect. But maybe that’s the point: survivors shouldn’t have to become legal experts just to survive.
So while I waited today, I filled the hours where I could. I sorted through emails and mail, paid bills, and tackled a few light chores that wouldn’t aggravate my back, which is still healing. I picked up my sick child from school and made sure they were cared for. I swapped the batteries on my Blink camera system with new rechargeable lithium ones to keep the house secure. I even managed to keep up with some of the ongoing chaos of paperwork, finances, and preparations for winter. Small things, but they add up to progress on a day when time otherwise felt stalled.
And protection doesn’t stop there. I’ve fitted door bars and alarms on my windows in case they’re smashed. I carry a personal alarm with me at all times. Paranoia? Or just survival? Maybe both. It makes me feel a little safer. But then I remember: when he was arrested for breaching bail, he was released again on nothing more than an undertaking—a promise not to break the promise he had just broken.
The absurdity is chilling. It reminds me of earlier this year, when my horrific neighbour came to my door. He already has a “do not trespass” order against him, but that didn’t stop him from shouting “fuck off, bitch” at me when I asked him to leave my property. His pitbull had wandered back up to my house — the same dog that mauled one of my dogs before. My kids are now too terrified to go outside when that dog appears.
I called the police. And the first thing they asked was: “Have you locked your door?” They don’t like to waste their time on trespassing as it is not a criminal offence – and its a small fine – just like getting a parking ticket.
I know the police have their hands tied. But that doesn’t help me sleep at night.
I also reached out to the Victim/Witness Assistance Program today. At first their lines were busy, so I left a voicemail with my details. Later, I did get a call back — a reminder that while the wait for support can feel endless, someone does eventually reach back – and they are overwhelmed offering support. Still, it’s a lot of faith to place in a system where timing can mean everything.
Meanwhile, I leaned on friends who help keep me grounded. I emailed my lawyer about the mortgage renewal coming up at the end of September, which will require his signature. And again about the HELOC, which is in arrears because he siphoned $1,200 out of the child support funds to pay his personal bills. Financial abuse with no consequences — another loophole he exploits. This time, I copied not just my lawyer but the bank and his lawyer too. Maybe public accountability will finally matter. But I won’t hold my breath and am sure it will be twisted against me.
And I made lists. I find comfort in lists. I have lists for when my back is stronger again — a workout plan to shift the belly fat that being nearly 50 with four kids has left me, and to tone up without sending my back into spasm. I have lists of paperwork that needs attention, renovations and yard work that must be done before winter sets in, and master cleaning schedules for the house. I have lists to remind myself how to wind down at night, to relax and reclaim small pieces of peace. And I have lists for my lawyer, tracking every update I need to push my divorce forward. Lists are my way of carving out order from chaos.
And through it all, the statistics repeat in my head.
- Data from 2011 to 2021 –A woman in Canada is murdered by her intimate partner every 3.6 days.
- More recent data – 2018 to 2022 shows that has now fallen to every 2 days.
- The trend is frightening for survivors.
- In Saskatchewan between 2019 and 2023, 44% of homicide offenders were already on bail, parole, probation, or subject to police conditions at the time of the killing. Nearly half.
The bitter irony isn’t lost on me: sometimes the courts treat the breach of bail with a speed that the original acts of violence never get. His rape trial — when it finally begins in January 2026 — will have taken almost two years to reach court. His bail breach, by contrast, has already been pushed forward within a month and continues on October 2. Justice moves quickly when it comes to broken promises, but drags endlessly when it comes to broken bodies and lives.
So I wait. And while I wait, I protect, I prepare, I make my lists, I keep busy with the small things, and I keep living — even as the system turns slowly, blind to the weight it leaves on our shoulders.
“All human wisdom is summed up in two words; wait and hope.” — Alexandre Dumas
