It's Still Raw

I was almost a victim of domestic violence just a few months ago, and the close-call experience nearly shattered my life. I was living in my 3900 sq ft dream home with what appeared to the public to be a very happy, stable relationship with a wonderful man who seemed to really care for me, and many times can be a wonderful, caring, responsible person. However, this man also has a dark, mean, angry side...and he confided to me one day early this year that he had been having thoughts of killing me and committing suicide. Having worked in community events with women who were victims of domestic violence, I was horrified, incredibly frightened and crushed...but I also realized I should NOT wait around for him to make good on his promise. With the help of a few friends behind the scenes, I relocated to Charlotte, paid a mover to get some of my things out of the house, and now live in a small apt. until I can get back on my feet.

Domestic violence is a complex, difficult issue which more often than people realize affects women of ALL backgrounds, races, ages, and economic circumstances. I am 48, white, upper middle class, was a member of a private club, active in community and professional events, in a household with about $150K year income. A huge drop in $ and lifestyle comforts are small prices to pay for self-respect and my safety, emotional and physical.

Haunted

I'm also a survivor of rape. The reason why I'm signing this petition is because I want abusive relationships and rape to stop. I was raped not only once but twice by two different men. One of them was a friend and the other one was my best friend's mom's boyfriend. God gave me the courage to tell my best friend's mom what happened but when I told her she didn't believe me. I have never spoken to her since.

A year before this happened I was set up by one of my other guy friends. He had called me (2 days in advance) and told me that this weekend was his birthday. He invited me out to his house were there supposedly was going to be a party. That day I was feeling sort of sick (flu like symptoms) so I called him and told him that I'll stay for a little bit. But when I got to his place and rang the door bell his friend came down stairs and said "Change of plans! Were going dancing, instead!" So I told him that I'll go for a short while because I didn't feel good. We went to a nightclub and when I got in I told him I'll be right back and I was heading for the bathroom to put some cold water on my face because I was coming down with a fever. When I came out of the bathroom I saw him near my drink (Sprite) - I knew he put something in it. He asked me if I wanted something else to drink like alchohol - I said no I'm on medication. But I would like another glass of sprite. When he came back I put my cup on the floor next to my sprite and I didn't realize which one had the drugs in it. So I grabbed one and I drank. I finally realized that both cups had drugs in them.

By this time I was feeling dizzy and hallucinating. I was so weak I couldn't even get up. I thought I was going to pass out. I saw one of my other guy friends there and I was trying to get his attention that way I can get out of there but it didn't work. I told my friend if we can get out of here because I was going to faint or pass out. We went back to his place so I can get my car and go home and he carried me up the stairs to his place and told me to sit down and he'll get me a glass of water. When he came back he did have a cup of water so I drank it because I was dehydrating and I realized that there was more drugs in the cup too. I panicked, had an anxiety attack and passed out after I was kicking him. I was asleep but I guess because of my medication that I was on for panic attacks the drugs that he put in my drinks were not 100% effective. So while he was raping me I managed to wake up but I couldn't do anything because I felt like I was anesthesized from my toes to my brain. I could hear and feel everything that was going on and I started to struggle after I realized that the door bell rang and it was his friends. He did not open the door because he knew that his friends wanted a piece of the action. I was set up. The reason why I know this is because I found out the truth that it wasn't his real birthday. He was going by the birthday on his fake ID. He planned this from the start.

I still till this day have nightmares about both rapes. I try to help people who have been in my shoes. It's a terrible thing to experience and people who do such things should rot in hell. That's why I'm signing this petition. I'm also signing this petition because I deserve it to myself. I don't want anyone to experience what happened to me and be HAUNTED... for the rest of their lives. Or even be manipulated.  

Life without the VAWA

In 1963 I married, too young and scared, simply to escape parental abuse at home. Typically I married an abuser, proving "the devil we know is better than the devil we don't know".

My husband was a charming fellow, one of the 'Jekyl and Hydes', who only abused while he was drunk. The rest of the time he was a kind and loving person. It took me years of therapy, education and exposure on a greater level to the world of domestic violence to understand how common that type of sociopathic behavior is.

In that era, his drinking was not excessive, nor problematic in any other way, but I learned to fear all social situations involving alcohol, knowing what awaited me later in the evening. I think those hours of anticapatory fear, and having to maintain a happy social face, were as dreadful as the beatings that came later.

It only went on for a few years before I escaped, two babies in tow, at 22 years old. But not before the famous final scence, where he sought me out on a dark beach in Florida near our home, and strangled me unconsious. I had told him earlier I was divorcing him, and the last words he said to me, before I lost consiousness were "If I can't have you, no one will".

He then dragged my inert body quite a ways to our home. When I came to, I was in my own bed, alone, with my hands clasped across my chest in the manner of the deceased. I looked down and I was horrified to see that he had changed my clothes, and I was lying in a mass of tulle and lace. My wedding night neglige, one of those frilly, silly, itchy, white lacy things one gets at their wedding shower, and wears once. I don't even know where he found it, packed away in it's tissue paper.

As I raced to the other bedroom to check on my babies, who were blessedly asleep and unaware, a neighbor tore through the front door. My drunken husband had just banged on her door and advised her to look in on me, as he had "finally killed the bitch". Then he went and passed out on a chaise lounge beside the pool.

There was never even a thought, in 1968 of calling the police. We knew they would do nothing. In those days, they would not accept an assault charge, let alone an attempted murder charge by a wife against her husband. Instead, my dear neighbor helped me plot my escape.

For three days, the longest weekend of my life, I had to pretend everything was fine, until my husband left for work on Monday morning. I had to endure his tearful apologies, his physical contact, his promises that it would never happen again (aka the Honeymoon Phase). I had to smile while he took the chldren and I to a local animal attraction for a treat, me wearing a chiffon scarf around my neck in the Florida heat, to hide the rapidly darkening bruises on my neck.

Monday morning at 7 am, I accepted what I hoped was the last kiss from my tormentor. Within an hour, movers arrived to put everything in the house into storage, and at 11:45 am, my children and I were on an airplane, home to friends who would protect me further.

My angel's name was Juanita, my neighbor, my boss and my friend.
Although I had been trying to get out on my own, it was her clear thinking, determination and assistance that facilitated my escape.

I vowed that day on the airplane, that I would be that angel for others in the same nightmare. I have worked in a shelter, I have been a 'safe house', a legal advocate and I have walked a mortally battered woman out of her house while her enraged husband held a gun on us both. I will continue to do what I can, till the day I die. Sometimes, all it takes is one hand reaching out, to make the difference.

For months my ex chased us up and down the east coast, me staying just one step ahead. At one point, a year after the divorce, I came home from work late at night, to find him passed out on the sofa, the tv flickering as the only light, and my three year old sitting next to him, her little overnight bag all packed. I asked her what was happening and she explained that daddy had come for a visit, dismissed the sitter, and as soon as he woke up from his 'nap', he and she and baby Mikey were all going on a swell trip to visit Grandma. I had run straight down the higway from my work to my home after a call from my father informng me that my ex had phoned my mother in NY and drunkenly announced that they were on their way (she, my first abuser, was complicit!).

I ran that two miles down the middle of the highway, knowing it was the only way he had to get out of town, and planning on putting my body in front of the car if necessary. Meanwhile my dad phoned every police entity between my Florida town and their NY home. After I persuaded my little girl that it was OK for her take a rest in her own bed, till daddy woke up from his nap (it was 2 am), I closed the kids' bedroom door, calmly walked to the kitchen and got a huge butcher knife. I was still standing over him, trying to get up the courage, when a detective quietly took the knife from me, having entered the house after my dad's call.

Another angel, who's name I never got. He held me in his arms while I shook and sobbed, and ordered the uniforms to drag my husband out. They put him in jail overnight and put him on an airplane the next day, warning him to never return to their jurisdiction, or this fellow would personally feed him to the alligators!

Although I was legally free of my abuser, it never really ends there. The abuse continues for years, through the physical, psychological and emotional damage done, and most horribly, often through the innocents... the children. In those days, there was no way to subvert the custody and visitation issues. There was no way to enforce child support. So my abuse continued, in the lies he told my children, in his failure to ever pay a penny in child support, and in his occasional attempts to abduct them.

We became, as so many do, impoverished, and my children grew up alone and confused, trying to deal with an often missing and sometimes deranged father, and a stressed and exhausted mother who had to work three jobs to keep a roof over our heads.

We three, my two children and I have all carried the scars of all of this, well into our adulthood. We each deal with our pain in our own ways, sometimes in a positive way, sometimes not so well. I was never able to remarry, my fear was so great. They did marry, but struggle in their marriages, doing the best they can, without the proper set of tools a stable family situation would have provided them.

I am now a grandmother, and a great grandmother. These should have been my golden years. But now I have a chronic, disabling illness, a nuerological disease, that may be a result of the blows to the head I took forty years ago, and perhaps the strangling itself. So in some ways, the abuse never really ends. For many victims, the horror they endured becomes Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and a host of other things, that debilitate their lives further.

I used to call myself a survivor, and indeed, I had many wonderful years after my abuser had the decency to finally disappear from our lives. I became a successful person, with a vital career, a happy famly and a rewarding life. Most importantly, for me, I have forgiven my abuser, acheived closure and moved on.

Lots of people helped, friends, therapists and the like, and finding my personal realtionship with my God helped also.

And now, we have laws to help protect those who are abused. I can advocate for someone, and know that by calling the police, and by utilizing the legal system, she can get help and protection, for herself and her children.

But, horrifyingly, today there are some who still feel government should not legislate what goes on between a man and a woman. There are some who still feel that a man owns his wife and children and may do with them what he wants. These people are very powerful and will attempt to strike down laws like the VAWA.

All of us, but most especially those of us who have been through the horror must be the hand that continues to reach out and help.

We cannot, we must not go back to those dark times when families in danger had no where to turn.

Remember, if one of us, woman or child is hurting, we are all hurting!

For dear Janet, and others like her, who did not survive.

Love vs Survival

In 1974 I married my boyfriend, Chuck who I loved more than life itself. I thought all was great, we had three great and beautiful children. We acquired a home and than went on to acquire another one. In 1991 the constant verbal and emotional abuse then lead to one outburst of physical violence.  At that point I realized it was time to leave. We had 1 house at that time and a telecommunications business I helped him with and worked with him to create. In 1998, I finally filed for divorce after 25 yrs of marriage, I thought I would be set for life for my children's future. As fate would have it I had no access to our assets because I had to go to the workforce in 1992 shortly after alcohol abuse entered my husband's way of life and he only gave us money when he choose to, our children needed to eat everyday, so I went to the private sector.

In 1999 I went back to find a field to help me support my children on my own. I graduated and received certification as a paralegal for I believed in the legal system of our land. When I hired my lawyer I felt I was safe and would receive half the marital assets after 25 yrs because as I was taught your lawyers takes an oath to do his best for his client. To make a long story short out of total injustice left me settling for $50,000.00 of a home and business worth at the very least $600,000.00 due to a nervous breakdown I had 1 month in court before my divorcee settled. I did agree to it because in the state of mind I was I just wanted it over. I still was not mentally fit to even fight for what was rightfully mine that I worked for to leave my children and help them. I feel my lawyer let me down and did not to his job zealestly, I wrote to the bar they acknowledged this by saying they could not find reason for disciplinary action but I might want to take this to a court of law. If I could find a lawyer that would do legal mal practice with me I would gladly do so just to make things right.

Enough about my nightmare, I now want to make sure these horrors never happen to another human being and their family. I am now going on to a leadership program in my college to help others and my topic I wish to devote my time to is domestic violence. DOMESTIC VIOLENCE MUST STOP NOW!
I WANT TO HELP!

Break the cycle

As a little girl my parents faught what seemed to me as all the time about everything growing up with anger as a domonate emotion which can and does consume me. I have also found myself on both ends of this war realizing I am now half the problem and even more importantly I am a role model for all young girls one of them my own daughter. Watching my little girl get angry or violent was proof that I can be part of the problem or I can be part of fixing it. I now find myself a soldier in the war on domestic violense a fight which in some aspect will never end but to hear my 5yr old say "but nobody should hit anybody else and nobody will ever hit my mom again" shows it is worth fighting forever!

No apologies

10 years ago I fell in love and got married. I had just graduated from college, but I set aside all my career goals to be the other half of the whole that one is supposed to be when they marry. A year after we had a daughter was when I started to loose myself. How? Easy, I was no longer the self-assured idealistic and happy person I was because I was made to feel inadequate. He did not like the food that I cooked, he did not like the way I dressed, he did not want me talking to old friends, he would tell me I no longer appealed to him because I was fat. Then, he started calling me names. I was idiot, stupid, dumb and the harder I tried to win his approval the more I had to be silent. I could not voice my thoughts, my fears and opinions on major decisions that affected my life too as part of the whole. Then the hitting got worst. I had to hide it though for being ashamed to be so helpless. I also made excuses for this man that I loved. I would resolve to leave yet I would go back after he would coax me and make promises (that were never kept) to change. I thought of killing myself but I would look at the children and remind myself that I had to stay alive with dad to provide them with FAMILY. But what a family? They see mom crying all the time, being called stupid and idiot, shown no respect. At times also called a mental case. "You are a schizoid" (I bet the Board of Psychiatry would be apalled at the loose use of the term). Since I did not earn as much I was also financially dependent. Crying to sleep at night did not make much of a difference. I would write poetry to express the wounded soul in me.

But one day I had enough. A lot of compromises had to be made but no longer would I be the empty shell, I got tired of apologizing and trying. I walked out... Yes, into the unknown leaving the children. One was saved by him living with my parents. I get judged by others for leaving the 2 out of the 3 children with my ex husband.

But I decided to live life on my terms now. To be judged by those that do not know what hell is are fools. I have visitation and I see them whenever I want to and they spend the summers with me, that's after I had to work 3 jobs and find a lawyer that would help. But the legal battles were also trying. I left him with everything - how do you hire a lawyer when you don't have the income to pay for. How could I ask for custody when I was sleeping on the floor to rebuild my life.

Now I have maintained a good relationship with the children, we talk daily (thank God for modern technology) and I am waiting for the time when they can appear in court and say- I WANT TO BE WITH MOM. Where my eldest is concerned she has already said "get a lawyer and I'll tell them what I want. A better life with a strong mom who had to sacrifice leaving us to give us a choice for a real family- one that will have no screaming and yelling. A strong woman like Amelia Earhart" (that's her fav. historical figure).

My own September 11, 2001

Young and naive....I thought my first true love really loved me back after he first punched me. 19 years old and I thought I knew what love was. Maybe he did love me but that was his way of showing it. He was great looking and we had fun together. However, he began calling me names and becoming possessive. He said I cheated on him and gave him sexual transmitted diseases even when I was never with another guy. He made me think I was doing things even when I was a great girlfriend. He had punched me several times before, even in the summer I had to wear long sleeved shirts. I told my mom it was from playing basketball. I loved him so much I would go crawling back, crying and all.

Two days before 9-11, he punched me while driving him home. I ran out of the car into a store and called my parents. He dragged me out and forced me into a car. My parents were looking for me everywhere. Eventually after 2 hours he let me go. Well......I had my own September 11 when I went outside, after watching the twin towers go down, to find my boyfriend run out with his friend from a car and wanted me to go in my house. I was waiting for one of my guyfriends to take me to the doctor. I said no because I was sooo scared. After witnessing him beat up my friend coming to pick me up in his car, luckily he got away, my boyfriend forced me into a car and I was in the back passanger seat. To make long story short, he began calling me names and began to proceed to punch me in my face, my neck, ears, and so on. He even grabbed me by the hair and punched me again and again. My nose started bleeding and I was screaming for him to stop. At one point, my left ear started ringing, I lost my hearing there. He eventually stopped after an hour and told me he forgave me after I begged him and told him I loved him. He took me back to his friends house and told me I could go. Well....I could barely see out of one eye. My faced looked like "Rocky." Miraculously, the police found me and rescued me. I was taken to the Emergency Room here in Chicago.

Thank god I am alive today. The only physical damage is that he broke my left ear drum and I lost 90% of my hearing. That has been mainly recovered after surgery. Although the emotional pain lives on, he is in jail! I just want to say to young women, every age actually, to be careful and watch for signs. Don't be naive and just because a guy is handsome just let him walk all over you.

Stand up for yourself! If you know of someone being hurt, tell someone please! Don't let your friend get hurt. There are women out there who have died and are physically damaged for life because of this. Thank you for reading my story. This is the first time I have shared this too!