Carolyn

I never thought I would ever be a victim of a horrible crime. I am a relatively safe person. I was raised in a middle class home in a safe suburban neighborhood. I have parents and siblings that love me. I haven’t participated in what would be classified as “risky” behaviors of drug and alcohol abuse.  I married a guy that was crazy about me; who told me he couldn’t live without me. We were married in a church by a priest accompanied by Pachelbel’s Canon in D. It was the perfect wedding. There were flowers, candles, a beautiful cake and every promise of a wonderful future. Yet all this did not keep me from being attacked by a “criminal.” The crime that happened to me happened within the walls of my own home at the hands of the man I chose to love and protect me forever. It happened to me. I am a victim of domestic violence.

 

The abuse I have experienced occurred in my home at the hands and the voice of the man I chose to marry. I am a survivor, but not without both the visible and invisible scars of what he did to me under the guise of a “perfect-on-the-outside” husband. The physical abuse was everything from slapping, kicking, grabbing, throwing, choking and his spitting and otherwise on me. The emotional abuse was much worse. He said every degrading thing imaginable. I was nothing – even less than nothing – without him.

It didn’t happen all at once. It was gradual, just like boiling a frog. Things were good for awhile. Then one time he got mad. This was different than his usual outbursts. This time he hit me. I was surprised at first. I didn’t know what to think or say. I didn’t know what to do. The next day, he apologized. He brought me flowers and cried when he told me how much he loved me. Of course I forgave him. He was so sorry. I loved him. He was under a lot of pressure at school and at work. I was pregnant and things were stressful. Things got better … for awhile. Then it happened again, just like the cycle of violence tells.

This went on for a few more years. I know you are wondering how I could stay with things being so bad like that. I wonder myself sometimes. All I can say is that I hoped things would get better. Things would be good, then things would be bad. Sometimes things were really good and he was good to all of us. He bought me things and he would take me on a trip that I had wanted. He’d be a good husband and I would have hope that things were getting better, even the way I hoped they could always be. Then things would go sour for awhile. I didn’t know what to do. We’d usually have a blow up and he would leave saying something hurtful to me. He was so good at blaming me for what happened. He’d come to see the girls and then tell me how pretty I was. I’d feel sorry for him and something I said or did that made him mad. We’d get back together for us and for the kids. Then it would happen again.  It seemed with every bad time, the periods between the good and bad got shorter. With two adorable girls and a nice house, life looked good on the outside. The inside was everything but that. I wondered how much more and how much longer I could take it. I left a couple of times, but he would promise to do better, so I’d go back.

I tried so hard to make things better – to make things work – I really tried. Somehow none of it seemed to matter. After years of hearing how ugly, fat, useless, messed up, stupid and what a poor excuse for a mother I was, it was, to me, anyway – believable. I messed up his life and he should never have married me. I wanted to leave, but what would I do? Where would I go? Every time I would get ready to leave, he’d tell me that I couldn’t. What would people think?

It is really hard to leave the perception – the “perfect-on-the-outside-lookin-good-so-no-one-knows” routine. They are so good at “the blame-game” of turning everything that is wrong about the marriage around on you. “How could I do that to him after all he’s done for me and the kids?” After all, he’s the smart one. He’s the good-looking one. There are tons of women that would want what I’ve got. Everything is stacked on his side of the line. How am I, the stupidest, fattest, ugliest and poorest excuse of a wife and mother going to make it without him? I was crazy. No judge would believe me over him. I’d lose everything. Just try it.

What could I reasonably do? I felt so crazy and confused. Who could I tell and know that I was safe? Who really would believe me? I had done this so many times to my family – my parents and my sister. I felt so trapped and alone and so very frightened. Then it happened. Our little 9 year-old daughter did something that absolutely flipped him out. I was watching myself as he did to her the same thing he’d done to me. It was a little thing, but in his rants and outbursts, it messed up his entire day. He completely lost it. He turned on me, then he started yelling at her and telling her she was just like me. I stood there – frozen – when I should have stopped him. I saw her take it – just like me. It was surreal.

That was what did it for me. I had left many times before, but this was the big kaboom – the “tripper.”  I finally decided that it was not going to happen to me, to her or any of us ever again. I left. I just left. I grabbed my keys, my girls, my phone and I left. I should have called the police, but I was numb. Really, I think I was too scared. I had to get us out of there. And I knew I couldn’t go back. His last words as I stumbled out the door have echoed in my mind ever since. “You’ll get nothing from me! You’re nothing! The girls’ll see – you’re such a loser!

I have left out the ugly, the expletives and the “descriptive” about the physical abuse because I want any reader – anyone – to be able to read my story. There was nothing glamorous or glorious about any of it. I don’t want anyone to have those images. Not even me.  

Closing that door behind me was a difficult thing to do. But, I had to do it. It has not been easy. And, it certainly isn’t over – for any of us. But, I am out. I am starting over in a life that does not include him.

I had no idea how many people really cared what happened to me – to us. With the help and support of my family and good friends, I was finally able to do it. I was directed to the shelter in my town for a few month’s stay. They helped me get counseling and support at the Domestic Violence Victim group. I got a protective order and was able to get help for my daughters in counseling, too.

I thought I was the only one like me. No one around me had such troubles. What I found was tremendous support. I am not alone. There are others like me. I now know a lot of women who are in these similar situations. As a group member, I saw myself so many times in that group. I saw all the different stages and all the different hopes. That was me, so many times. It is nearly impossible to understand the victim thinking completely unless you have been through it. The victim is mentally confused on so many levels. Just like these women in the group, I wanted so much for things to work out. I wanted so much to be happy. The cycles, the drama, the “I Love you’s” and the “don’t leave me’s ” made things so hard. Sometimes I was happy—for a little while – but I always knew it wouldn’t last, but then, maybe it would. That hope is that thing that causes you to be so confused—it’s your own hope that he might be the man you know he can be. Maybe if you were nicer, prettier or if you were smarter maybe you could work things out. It becomes your fault and you own all of it.

If you think this was the end of what was and the new beginning, think again. When our court date came up, there he was – all dressed up in a white shirt and tie. He smiled at me with his charming smile that I loved so much. How could I do this to him – to us? I wanted so much for things to work out for me and the girls. I wanted the good times. Was I doing the right thing? I didn’t want this for us. I didn’t want this for our family. I wanted the good part. I surely didn’t want all of the bad. I knew I didn’t want that. It was all so bizarre. I couldn’t live like this, with all the confusion and the turmoil. Would he go back to all of that? I remembered the women in the group – with the same hopes and the same confusion. I heard their stories and the manipulation, the believing and then the lies. Would that happen to me, too?

A thought came to me that struck me hard. It made me sick to even think about it. I knew that I couldn’t live like this, but I honestly wondered if I would die like this. I really thought I would die. I really don’t know what I would have done without the unconditional and dependable love and understanding of family and friends that literally picked me up and carried me to safety. I know where I would be. I would have died from his abuse or I would have ended things myself.  

Victims of abuse leave the abuser an average of 7 times before realizing that they need to leave for good. That’s about what it took for me. I know it sounds so foolish, but I was caught in his cycle. When he was mean, he was really mean, but when he was nice, he was so nice that it gave me hope that maybe things would be like this forever. In my mind, I thought it was up to me. I was the problem. If I was nice, he’d be nice. It was me. I couldn’t push those buttons in him. It was all up to me to make it better.

My family didn’t know how to help me. I think a lot of it was trust. Each time I went back, they trusted my decisions less and less. I have since learned of the heartache and worries that my situation caused my parents, especially my mother. So, what would I tell the mother of a victim of abuse?  I would tell her that your daughter needs you. She needs you more than anyone. She needs to know that you love her, even though she is married to or in a relationship with an abuser. Let her know that you are there for her and that you want her and her children to be safe. She needs to know that even though you made a poor choice – possibly many of them – that it doesn’t matter. You are there. Your love will over-power any of the counterfeit love he is trying to confuse you with.

I would tell her mother to be patient with her! Be a constant of level-headed love. Don't allow yourself to get too involved, but encourage her to receive counseling, join a support group, and carefully suggest prayer and church attendance. It helps secure your spiritual base of who you are and really, who he is and what source of strength he turns to. It really helped me build my confidence in myself after the attack. Just remember that if you turn your back on her, she will be alone. He will continue to isolate her and the outcome will be grim. If you are there as a solid support with love and compassion, she will come to her senses eventually. She will realize your love for her and she will begin again to love herself. Love is such a key element. He doesn’t have that. No one who does these things can truly love another person. They love only themselves. Love shouldn’t hurt. But, the true and constant love of family and friends gets you through. I had really no idea how hard it was for all my friends and family to stand back and watch me go through this. They didn’t know all of what was happening, but they knew something was wrong – terribly wrong. Yes, he had his “posse” and all of those that believed him. There was really nothing I could do about any of that. I am sorry about the loss of some friends and quite honestly, some family, too. But, I know who my friends – and family – really are. They have stuck by me and have loved me. I had no idea that there were so many people there to support me. I needed them. When I did finally leave, they were a fortress of strength for me. I couldn’t have done it without them.

If you are thinking you need to leave, there is likely a reason for that. Get help. Find a safe listener. Go to your local women’s shelter. If you don’t think or know you are being abused, they can tell you. You are not alone. There is help. You can survive. No one needs to die trying.