Through a Child's eyes

When I was in the 5th grade my dear friend was murdered. We were only 11, and I did not fully understand what that time would mean for me. As the events unfolded in the local paper I learned the truth and the horrors that preceeded my friend's death. Her mother's boyfriend had raped her numerous times and was violent and aggressive while her mother worked late. She lied about bruises when we asked her. Her mother suspected something and came home early and caught him. He shot her mother and killed her in cold blood. The next morning he went to his mother's house and then to work like nothing was wrong. That day was the first day my friend had missed school since kindergarten and everyone was concerned. The bus driver knew her grandfather and called him. He found his daughter and granddaughter's bodies. That was the first documented act of domestic violence in our little county, and it has never left me.

Whenever given the chance I tell her story. I've written speeches in college, now as a teacher I tell students and youth that violence can never be silent. They must always tell even if they are scared. I've never stayed with a boyfriend that has had a bad temper because I don't want to be part of the violence; emotional, physical, sexual, or verbal. I try to let my friend's death not be in vain, but to help others anyway I can.

Everyone is at risk

Several years ago, I met and married the woman of my dreams. She was beautiful, intelligent and had an extraordinarily sweet nature.

She had been abused by her father, and had also been beaten and raped by her first husband as well. To say that the past would come back to haunt her from time to time would be an understatement.

There were no issues of abuse or violence in our marriage, but it did not ultimately work out. Many times along the way I felt as though the things that she went through prevented her from being present in our marriage.

When a woman is abused, she is not the only one that suffers. The pain is felt by her children, her friends and by all those who care about her. This is not about one woman or 700 women.....it is about all of us: Everyone is affected by domestic violence.

Just Escaped

I grew up in a home with a lot of domestic violence. I swore I'd never be in that situation . . . Then I made a nearly fatal mistake in December 2004. I finally escaped two weeks ago, when Hurricane Katrina was wreaking havoc in the South.

It took me over nine months to get away from the man who still claims to love me. I have never been married and thought I'd found the man of my dreams. He was in Canada and I gave up my very happy life in the US to start one with him. On paper he was exactly what I was looking for, and more. We actually lived together several months before I left the US. There were never any indicators of what was to come.

I made one HUGE mistake - I forgot to leave myself an out. After I moved there and foolishly trusted him, making inappropriate decisions, placing myself under his care and control .. . it started and I was trapped, embarrassed and suicidal. After all, I was too smart to be in such a situation.

The scars I now bear are physical as well as emotional. I tried suicide, but of all people, he saved me. . . twisting things so that I lost faith in myself. When I look in the mirror now, I have permanent markings of his choking me repeatedly and throwing me into glass.

I was never taken for medical treatment. I nearly bled to death in January when a piece of glass stabbed into a vein deep and near a bone, which would not clot, leading me to believe it may have been nearly completely severed. I could not walk for a week without it reopening and bleeding profusely. I was "in trouble" at a later date for ruining the area rug onto which I'd bled, as he kicked me from my head to my abdomen and on my back. According to him, I fell into the glass by myself. Yes, that's his story. What he did had no effect on me, apparently.

He never apologized and still blames me for everything. Though he admits to hitting his mentally disabled daughter, he actually believes he only hit me if I touched him, which is patently false. He has always forgotten that I began to hit back about four months into it. He forgets that he hit first. He also forgets the last three months wherein I never fought back or expressed anger or voiced my opinion . . . or that when I cried, he ridiculed and spit on me, mostly in my face. He said that I was living in a fantasy land and that I'd fabricated most of it. Amazing, but true. He believes I am crazy and was determined to make me believe it while I was there.

The day my mother died, he called me "a stupid f***ing b**ch" because I didn't want him to hold me as only moments before I'd received the call he'd been threatening me and verbally abusive. I wasn't allowed to go to her in the end. Yes, I was denied my family when my mother died.

You ask why I didn't leave then? I had no where to go and make a new life for myself. I was told that I would be considered merely homeless if I went back to NYC because my abuser would be in a different country.

When I had the one chance to get there, there was no space at any single women's shelters and only a cot type place was available. (Where you have a cot to sleep at night, but must be out during the day.) How do you get a job when you have nowhere for a potential employer to call you? How do you get around the city without any money? I could not face homelessness and stayed until a viable option presented itself, though it is not by any means easy or comfortable.

I was so tired of my friends and family telling me to get out, but showing me no way to do so, or helping me to get out. They became a part of the abuse in that they criticized me and claimed I had the battered women's syndrome - that I wanted to stay. They had no idea how much that hurt or how isolated I became because when I reached out to them for help, they had none to offer but opinions and criticisms.

He monitored my phone calls and controlled me in so many little ways, I still haven't realized them all. Spitting in my face; calling me a "piece of s**t", brutally attacking me if I tried to leave the house, denying me money, etc.

So loud and violent was he, the neighbors called the police on him more than once. According to him, these were not wrong because "if I wanted to play with fire, I would get burned." He claims he never hit a woman before. He claims it was only because of me and that if I didn't take things to that level, they wouldn't happen. What he forgets or denies, is that I never did take them to that level. I asked for and demonstrated something completely different.

What I have always known is that responsibility lies with each and every one of us, for our selves. If someone does something which upsets you, it is your choice how to respond. It is your choice to vocalize, verbalize, walk away, hit, or any other number of choices. If a person chooses violence of any kind, verbal or physical, no one else can be blamed - Period! The only one in control is you.

Me? I choose to heal and pray for that poor soul. I am an extraordinary woman and will grow and become better for the pain he inflicted. I will help other women to escape and heal, when I have recovered. I chose to leave because I chose to LIVE. And there is nothing more important to me now than my freedom.

My situation is hard. Resources are few and I have literally no funds left. . . but I will survive and though I have been a business manager for a well known national non-profit, I am now cleaning houses for cash so that I can buy the necessities to get myself into a position to work in my field again. I am grateful for the opportunities, but disheartened at the help I've not received from the government to which I've paid taxes for 20 years. I've only been approved for $149 in food assistance for the month. That is it. No cash assistance; no toiletries. Nothing. It is a church that is helping me, and strangers in a new city, each believing in me and giving me the chance I so desperately needed and deserved.

The Salvation Army and the United Way are each giving me food and clothing. I had surprisingly last year contributed to both, and have supported the United Way via payroll deduction off and on since 1989. I had no idea they helped women in my type of situation. I am deeply grateful and intend to return their generosity for the rest of my days.

We need more resources for women who are abused and want to leave. I couldn't find a viable option until I'd been severely abused on several levels for nine months, though I tried to leave after four.

There are those of us who made some bad choices in the men we chose to love. Homelessness and hunger should not be our reward when we have endured so much. We deserve help. We deserve respect. We deserve a chance to rebuild our lives in safety and in peace. Please help us. 

Too young to help

As I grew up my mother dated all kinds of losers that bruised and battered her. One night I went to sleep in my own bed and woke up at the neighbors house with blood all over my nightgown. Her jaw had been broken while she was trying to carry me next door. Till this day I remember that. I was too young then to do anything but now I feel I have a voice. Hopefully I can help keep children and mothers in this world from being hurt like my mother and I were.

Rape

It was only a few nights ago...

I was at a party with a few of my friends and there was this one guy, Matt, who only one of my friend's knew. We were drinking and we ran out of beer so all of my friends got in the car to go get more. Matt and I were the only ones left behind. At first we just talked for a while, then he kissed me and it went to far.

It wasn't so much a matter of being forced as it was me being drunk, scared, and not knowing how to say no to a guy about four times my size.

When my friends drove up, I immediatly told them and they got me out of there as fast as they could. But obviously it wasn't fast enough because it still happened.

The worst part of it is that the police won't do anything about it because he is within three years of my age and there were no wittnesses. It is just my word against his.

I had planned on waiting until marriage but that night changed everything... I am still the same girl I was before but it's still different.

Survivor

I was abused by my husband for twelve years. I was raised up during the time when it was taboo to talk about abuse and I was taught as a child to make your marriage work at any cost. First of all I got married for the wrong reasons. My husband was military and I was from a small town and I wanted to be able to see the world. I did love him however, but since then have realized that that what I felt was lust, not from the physical sense, but I married to please myself. My husband served in Vietnam and was wounded. When he returned, we got married too soon. The beatings started first with just a slap, then the apologies, the gifts etc. It then escalated to hitting closed fist, pushing kicking etc, apologies, gifts, crying etc. This went on for 12 years. I lost two babies, had a nervous breakdown, but still didn't have enough. I was a college graduate, attractive, smart, out-going all the characteristics that one says "How could you allow someone to treat you that way"? Well self esteem was out of the window. It was not until I had enough that I was able to leave and stay gone.

I am now the founder of a women's group called "Women Revived, Restored, Ressurrected Inc." I provide a network of services such as individual and group cousensling housing, educational services, etc. God has given me great insight into relationships. I now teach singles on how to wait and what to do while you wait and knowing who you are so that you won't settle. God delivered me and I am using all that he gave me to help other women. All of the women who go through the program become counselors to go back and help their sisters. Abuse comes in many forms, however, the first line of abuse, we inflict on ourselves. The key is to stop abusing ourselves, then others won't be able to abuse us.

A Near Death Experience

On August 3, 2000, my ex-husband came to my home. We argued over things related to the divorce. I was concerned, but it was dinner time and my older son is Type 1 diabetic, and I wanted to make sure he got fed. So as we argued, I tried to go on with what I was doing. I have no idea what I last said when he hit me in the face and knocked me over to the floor. I was on the kitchen floor in a fetal position trying to protect myself. I thought at first he was punching me, but out of the corner of my eye I saw his bloodied hand. As soon as he had knocked me over, I had yelled to my 2 children, who were downstairs, to call 911. I didn't realize till after my ex-husband had stopped, and left the house, that he had stabbed me multiple times. And my kids had locked themselves in a room downstairs because they were afraid what my ex-husband might do to them. I also didn't realize till after my ex-husband left, that the phone had been knocked off the hook, during the argument I got up dialed 911 and lied down again.

My children, once they felt it was safe came upstairs. I had them hang up the phone. I then had them call my brother, because I wanted to make sure someone would be with my children when I went to the hospital. I didn't realize until much later, that my son had apparently dialed a wrong number. So I had my other son call friends of his. The police responded quickly and started to work on me immediately. They got me in an abulance and took me to ER. I wasn't aware till later that I had been stabbed 11 times, losing 3 pints of blood. One kidney was damaged, and is non functiong. They had told my family, that things could go either way with me. I was hospitalized for 10 days. I guess, I was lucky that no vital organs were damaged.

I didn't know until later that my ex-husband had driven to the police station and turned himself in. He had left me to die.

My ex-husband plead quilty to first degree assault, and was sentenced to 13 years.

I have tried to put my and my childrens' lives back together, but it has been a struggle.