5 Incredibly Stupid Questions People ask Victims.

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Tired of the Stupidity!

Ok so as a Domestic Violence Survivor I must speak up for all the victims and up and coming survivors. WE ARE TIRED OF YOUR STUPID QUESTIONS. When I speak at events and engagements I talk to many women who have been and are being abused. I ask them what is your biggest challenge  and besides recovering, and making plans to leave their abuse, they say that they don’t get the support they  need and that many people ask amazingly stupid questions. So I decided to post the stupid domestic violence questions that people ask. Whether it is out of ignorance , a misunderstanding, or just being mean.

TOP 5 Stupid Domestic Violence Questions

stupid-questions

5.How did you get into this situation?

First of all do you think we can spot an abuser from a mile away? No we cannot! When you meet a man you want to date of course if you are attracted to them your immediately in the honeymoon phase. His eyes, his lips, his cologne, everything is just great. AFTER they have us hooked and locked into the relationship THEN is when they feel comfortable enough to abuse us. They already got us falling in love and by then we are caught between whether the abuse was a one time thing or something that will be continual all because we are in love.

4. Why didn’t you reach out for help?

Ok this question can be asked out of stupidity or curiosity. Most times victims don’t get help right away out of fear of the abuser hurting others. Another reason is that a failed attempt leaves us trapped and abused further and far worse because now the abuser knows we are trying to leave. When an abuser feels as if they are losing their control over you their grip on you gets a little bit tighter and things could escalate very quickly.

no-longer-trapped-overcoming-feeling-powerless-dr-diva-verdun

3.Are you really that trapped?

Why yes, yes I am. Victims are almost always around their abusers and this is not by choice. They want to keep a close watch on us. They are either not working and getting money in elsewhere or they work very close by. They have you keep your phones close so that they can call you every second to check on you and God forbid you don’t answer your phone! This is a murderous scene waiting to happen. Another tactic abusers use that is rarely spoken of is financial abuse. This is when they have complete control of finances and you have access to nothing relating to money. This make it hard to leave, buy needed things.

READ MORE ABOUT FINANCIAL ABUSE HERE

IF ANYTHING BURNS ME UP TOTALLY ITS THESE LAST TWO QUESTIONS!

2.You don’t look abused… Are you Lying?

Are you serious right now?! Even if you see the abuse your not going to do anything! When I was first abused I remember it well. I was beat up ! He punched me so hard on the right side of my face and had ripped several braids out of my hair. Next thing that happened shocked and amazed me. He said “Lets go in the mall.” What?! Are you serious?! So in we walked and can you believe NOT ONE PERSON SAVED ME, OR QUESTIONED HIM! ( I wrote a book on my abuse you can BUY IT HERE)

1.WHY DON’T YOU JUST LEAVE?

This is the top question that people ask abusers. I always wonder as well as my other domestic violence survivors of why don’t they ask… Why Did They Abuse You? There is a number of reasons why victims don’t and can’t JUST LEAVE.

THESES ARE REAL RESPONSES FROM VICTIMS AS TO WHY THEY DON’T LEAVE, AND THE ANSWERS WE GIVE THEM TO COMBAT THEIR SECOND THOUGHTS.

Where will I go? – (friends, family, shelters)
How will I support myself (and my children)? – (It may not be as hard as you think)
What if I am alone for the rest of my life. – (There are worse things then being alone)
No one will believe me. – (They might not but it is likely they already have seen the signs. Besides, it doesn’t matter whether they believe you as long as you know the truth.)
What if I am celibate for the rest of my life? – (There are worse things in life)
No one else will want me. – (Once you are healed you may find someone great and perfect for you.  If not, again – there are worse things than being alone.)
My children need their father/mother. – (What kind of mother/father do they need? – really)
What will other people think? – (It shouldn’t be about what others think but unfortunately sometimes it is.  You just need to do what is best for you.)
3
How will my children handle this? – (They may handle it better than what they are currently experiencing)
I don’t have money or other resources. – (Get information – that will answer many concerns.)
I still love him/her and I know he/she didn’t mean to do it and/or is sorry and/or will change. – (How many chances should he/she get?  What if after years and years he/she still doesn’t?  Will you still keep saying that?  A person changing has to be their choice – we can’t make them no matter what we do or don’t do.)
How can I be sure that I will be safe from him/her? – (Call local, state, or national hotlines or resources for information.  If possible confide in a friend or relative and arrange to go to their house in case of emergency.  Always have a bag packed with a few essentials if possible.)
I am ashamed for anyone to know about the abuse. (They probably already know.)
Its not really that bad. – (Do you really believe that?)
I did cause this to happen or I deserve it. – (No one deserves to be treated that way).

This article is not to offend anyone it is simply a blog from a victims perspective. We are survivors and are tired of these questions. Some of us are still victims and while we are crying out for help you are asking us questions that seem to be antagonizing us more.

CLICK HERE FOR THE QUESTIONS THAT WE NEED TO BE ASKED BY YOU!

 

 

 

 

 

Failure

Failure

Oh how I hate you so.

I haven’t had many encounters with you so whenever you yield your ugly head I’m forced to embrace you.

Failure is natural. It’s part of life’s process of growth. Every time you show your face, I feel walls of China building because I remember how I felt when I encountered you last.

I feel useless, humiliated and unintelligent when you are around because my heart seeks perfection. I’m always striving hard to do my part to assure that I succeed in life and don’t succumb to your motives. But failure you are still there. Driving home lessons that I will never be good enough for perfection. I’m not perfect, I don’t have the human quality to be, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to be that way. So fear, I will take the lessons you teach and keep putting up walls to prevent you from coming in, but failure is inevitably apart of life. Let’s just continue this love, hate relationship. Failure, keep rearing your head and guiding me to the light. Detour and guide me toward my ultimate purpose and destiny with every encounter we have. Take your position in this journey of life. All the while killing my perfectionist mind one brain cell at a time. I’ll learn from you and strategically move so I can decrease our acquaintances. Thanks for the lessons. You never fail to educate me.

As I approach my 32nd birthday, the feeling of failure definitely kicked in. I’m definitely not where I thought I would be in life. I served in the military for 9 years and my ultimate goal was to continue serving my country for 11 more years but the military is reducing its’ forces. In the next few years, several Soldiers will get the notification that their service to their country is no longer needed. They will be forced to choose employment elsewhere.

Originally when I got the notification of being involuntarily separated from service, I didn’t take the news so harshly. But overtime while undergoing several obstacles to receive orders for separation and transition back home from overseas deployment, I started feeling the emotions of grief. I often ask myself, did I Soldier well? I felt like I did everything according to the Army career map but apparently it still wasn’t good enough. I also questioned myself as a nurse. Am I a good nurse, do I have enough experience and expertise to compete with civilian nurses because all I know is military medicine. I definitely feel like I’m not ready to meet the civilian sector.

Last week I called my friends and asked them to pray for me because I felt depressed. I’ve experienced a lot of things in my life but failure was a new feeling. I always strive to do my best and I’m usually blessed to come out on top. Even in college when changing my major from psychology to nursing, although nursing school was really hard, I successfully completed the program. So now, I’m sitting here choosing a civilian job. Lord, where do I go from here. One thing about failure it can elicit a sense of fear, fear of tying things over, fear of reaching your goals while traveling a different road. I started to get scared. I felt like perhaps I heard God wrong and He never called me to be a nurse. Have I been walking in God’s permissive will all this time?

But this process has allowed me to see that failure isn’t negative. It’s just a redirecting of your path so that you can reach your purpose. Just because you fail at something, there are lessons that need to be learned. And you must believe that you are doing the right thing. God will confirm that you are doing the right thing as well just listen to His instruction.

There are many people who have failed or where rejected before arriving at the correct destination. Oprah Winfrey for example was originally fired from a news broadcasting station, then she was recognized by someone else and she has her own television network. Michael Jordan was originally cut from his high school basketball team; he became one of the best professional basketball players of all time.

Sometimes failure is necessary. There is a song that Fantasia Burrino sings which I enjoy and it says, “I am who I am today, because God used my mistakes. He worked it for my good like no one else ever could. It was necessary.” God has a way of turning negative things into positive. So as of 1 Dec I will no longer be a full time Soldier in the United States Army, but I’m still here and I still have breath in my lungs to make an impact in this world. I am still able to provide nursing care to patients, just in a different setting. I can use all the skills I have learned during my time in the military to help others I encounter. Change your perspective as it relates to failure. Failure is okay. It propels you into your purpose because it allows you to travel a different path and learn new lessons while arriving to your final destination.

The Pain that Always Follows

24Straight out of high school I knew that the man I had met was going to be the man of my dreams. Although he was 6 years older then me I was comfortable know that his maturity was enough to take care of me . This had been my first real relationship. I hadn’t dated many guys and didn’t know what it meant to be a girlfriend. He took me out on dates and we had a ball. Little did I know that this relationship would shape how I would see men and relationships the rest of my life.

He was fairly calm. He had a great sense of humor. He was already a dad and was a good father to his son, from what I saw. After high school I had got accepted to Hampton University and was extremely excited and I thought he was too. I had about a month break before going right into college so I decided to use that break to spend time with my boyfriend. Little by little I started to see that he was always upset when I would talk about leaving to college so I just started to leave that piece  out.

Time had come for me to ship off to college and I was excited he seemed to be happy for me to. I went there for a few weeks  and time had come where we were allowed to leave off campus for visits. He picked me up one night and we went for a  drive he asked me how did I enjoy college and I was going on and on abut how fun it was all the people I met and etc. As I was talking he would grip the steering wheel tighter and tighter, his face was getting red, and he kept mashing the accelerator in the car. I asked him what was wrong and he started yelling at the top of his lungs, spit coming out of his mouth. I was scared and completely in shock. At this point I asked him to please take me back to campus. No sooner did I turn my head away he punched me in the face as if a man were to punch another man. I remember being in complete shock, crying and bleeding. I brung in the car with me from college my cds and favorite teddy bear he grabbed all of them and threw them out the window. I had stopped talking in fear that I would get hit again. At this point he pulled into a mall parking lot so he could go shopping or something. I REFUSED to get out of the car. I was swollen in the face and bloody. When I told him that I was NOT getting out he opened the passenger car and pulled me by the hair out the car.

As we walked through the mall I could see the glares from people on me. In my head I was screaming , “Help me please”. Can you believe all I received was stares and whispers. What was wrong with society?! People would rather talk and stare then step in and intervene!

To shorten the story he returned me to college. I soon after quit college and at his request we got a house together and worked and lived together. The abuse got worse. I was punched , choked, hit with objects, and locked in my room from weeks at a time. I was treated like an animal.

The last fit of abuse was my sure sign that I had to leave. We had gotten into an argument before he had to run off to work. He grabbed my coat and tied it tight around my head. It was at this point that I realized he was trying to kill me. I was suffocating and losing consciousness, I could feel my body going numb, and it was in the moment that I could feel as if my spirit was leaving my body. I was thinking this is it, I’m going to die. I called myself saying my last prayer “Dear God if you let me live I will leave” As soon as I blacked out he ran back in and untied the coat from around my head. As I slowly gained my feeling back in my legs and arms I got up called my friend at the time to come save me while he was at work. I call it the grat escape.

Ladies this abusive relationship shaped how I viewed relationships. It had formed my views on relationships for a long time coming. It is now 14 years later and I am just learning how to love, trust , a feel again. Don’t let one persons actions shape and control your life.

Hello My name is Rajsheda and I am a domestic violence survivor, I am now because of my past a public speaker, owner of a successful charity organization, a co-author of an upcoming book and a motivator for women all over the world. Its your choice on how you shape your life from the past. Take that FIRST STEP, #youhavetoleave, let your test be your testimony , go from victim to victorious. Live life,Love Life and know that you deserve much better then the situation you are currently in.

Final Days

She couldn’t speak to me, in her final days. There were smiles, and hand gestures. Two thumbs down, for the botched dye job on my hair. I couldn’t hug her. There was no final goodbye. But two days before her untimely death, she grabbed my hand.  And placed it on her cheek. I should’ve known then that she knew she wouldn’t make it, because she had never done that before.

This woman, my best friend, my sister, my arch nemesis, my daughter (at times) was gone. My whole life had been spent worrying about her, and protecting her. I wanted to see her happy. And she was almost there. This woman, who had been beaten, and put down, and degraded by every single person she dated, was gone, without knowing true love. She never found peace, never found her safe place. And she died not knowing if I was going to become another domestic violence statistic. They said the cause was heart disease, but maybe her heart was just broken. Broken with worry for her daughters, broken because she was never loved properly. Broken because she never got to explain her story. But I’m still here to tell it. Be it a cautionary tale, or the ramblings of a daughter who misses her reason for being, I will tell it, and maybe give someone the courage to leave, before time runs out. Maybe that someone will be me.

The memories come back to me in flashes. There’s a ugly, burnt orange blanket on the couch. I remember screaming and crying, in harmony with my mother’s screams as my father beat her up and down the hallway. At that age, I was too young at 4 years old to comprehend the severity of what was taking place, but I knew it was wrong. And that feeling of helplessness haunts me to this day.

I remember pretending at school. Making honor roll, every single year. Thinking that if I just behaved more, if I made my father proud, maybe he would leave her alone. But he didn’t.

There was a time we were all eating dinner. Myself, my mother, and my three siblings. My sister was crying, and I could feel my father getting angry. I tried to placate him. Let him know that my Mom would keep my sister quiet. My mom took my sister upstairs, and the next there I heard was a loud crash. He had picked up her dinner plate, and slammed it on the table, breaking the plate, and ruining her food. It took her two hours to make that meal, and she hadn’t eaten all day. It was then I started hating him. It was then that I decided no man would ever treat me like that. It was then I decided in my little eight year old mind, that I would do what I could to protect my mother.

Over the years there were other incidents:

          My brother had stolen some dinosaurs from his kindergarten class. So instead of explaining why this was wrong, my father decided to beat him with a weight belt. He took him upstairs, and we’re all sitting at the table listening to my brother scream. My mother ran up those stairs so fast, I’d never seen anything like it. She kicked down that bedroom door, and all I heard was “Nooooo.” Then a loud thump against the wall. And silence. The silence stopped my heart. I ran to the phone and called the police despite my Dad yelling from the top of the stairs for me to put the phone down. The police did nothing.

          Another time my father forced me to go to a modeling audition. I cried, begged not to go, and when my mother stood up for me, he kicked her. While she was holding my baby sister.

He would hit her with extension cords from our keyboard. Her head was put in a toilet. He would have tantrums, and break things. Call her names. She was pushed down stairs. She had vases thrown at her. Then he would buy her magnificent presents from overseas. And I wondered if that was love.

Things were ok for a little while, and my family relocated. We moved in with other family member’s as our house was being built. In Florida, right before Hurricane Andrew destroyed it. But there were good times in that home. There were also awful times. There was so much tension in the home due to the fact that our entire family was sleeping in one room. My mom was in school. My dad was working. Things were stressful. One morning my Mom was getting ready to drop me off at school. My father just kept picking with her. She tells him to shut up. He jumps out of bed, pushes her against the wall and chokes her, with me standing right there. I told my school counselor that day. They did nothing and the same night, there was another argument. My mother said she was fed up, my father said “oh, yeah…get fed up with this” and he smacked the shit out of her. I ran out of the room, found my aunt, and when she left the room, I called the police. My father was arrested.

Finally. But the drama didn’t end there. My Aunt decided to scold me. And call me a little bitch. Telling me that children are never supposed to call the cops on their parents. My mom packed us up, and we left the next day.

I was so proud of her. I loved when my father was gone. But suddenly I started seeing random things around our new house. Whitney Houston and Tevin Campbell CD’s with love notes written on the covers with a Sharpie. Then my Mom tells us my father is coming to visit. Even at that young age I knew he was just weaseling his way back into our family. And I knew my mother was going to allow it. Things were good for a while. My Mom decided to go hang out with her best friend one night. So  my youngest brother stayed home, and my other siblings and I went out with my father.

When we returned home, my brother told my father that my Mom had been talking about him being with another girl. My brother was very young at the time, so I don’t blame him for what he did, but I’ve never forgotten it. My Dad handed my brother $1, for the information. One fucking dollar. He told us all to go upstairs, and that familiar dread rumbled in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t move. He told me to go upstairs again. I didn’t move. He physically pulled me up the stairs, into my brother’s room and closed the door. My brother’s sat around, playing Nintendo and I asked them how they could not care about what was going to happen. One of them looked at me and said “what are we supposed to do”. I opened the door and stood at the top of those stairs, while my father is screaming, and I heard the slap. I heard the thud. And I heard her crying. “you promised not to do this anymore, you promised”. I’m at the top of the stairs yelling “Moooom”. There’s a knock at the door. It’s the police. They ask my mom if everything is ok. She said no, he just slapped me. They looked at her and said “if we have to come back out here, someone is going to jail” and they left. The last thing I heard my father say before I went to sleep was “things were starting to calm down after the slap right?” I wanted to kill him. I woke up the next day, and saw my Mom’s black eye. I kept asking why don’t you leave. She had no answers, and that night, I heard them having sex. I confronted her. Ten yrs old, Im asking my mom how she can have sex with someone who hits her. I got grounded.

Over the next few years, my parents were separated, and there were no major incidents. But they remained in contact, and he must have charmed his way back in because he moved back in with us, when I was 13. There was one instance, I woke up in the middle of the night, to her saying ‘get off me, get off me. Stop kicking me.” He raped her that night.  I don’t think either one of them knew I was awake.

I had a really fantastic teacher in 8th gr. She encouraged us to write, and gave us all journals. She said we could write anything, and our words would be safe with her. I spilled it all. I wrote about how I slept with a baseball bat, waiting for the right opportunity to kill my father. I wrote about the things he did. About not understanding why my Mom wouldn’t leave. I begged for help in that journal. The next day social workers were at my home, and told my mother if she did not leave, they were taking us away. If she had any contact with my Dad, they were taking us away. So she left, finally. It was a tough time for us, because my brother’s felt like I had taken their father from them. My mom felt like I had taken her husband from her. We were homeless and living with friends for 2 months. Moving from house to house so my Dad couldn’t find us. Eventually my parents were divorced, and that was one of the happiest days of my life.

Few months after the divorce, my Mom married her high school Sweetheart. He sat all of us down and explained that he knew what we had been through, and just wanted to take care of us. But I had some questions. “How are you going to handle arguments with my mother? What if she gets in your face, will you hit her?” Emphatically, he tells me he would never do that. The fucking liar.

I had moved out by the time things got bad between my Mother and Stepfather. My sister called me one night telling me he had slammed my Mom’s face into a dishwasher, and was kicking her, fighting her. I left my newborn with his father, drove to my Mom’s house that night. When I saw her I lost it. She had black and blue bruises everywhere. Her legs, hands, and face. I destroyed every computer my stepfather had in that home. I wrote in permanent marker, on his desk, that if he tries to destroy what belongs to me, I will destroy everything that belongs to him. I took his clothes, and poured bleach on them. Then my mom had the audacity to call him and tell him what I was doing. He calls the police me. They arrive, look at my Mom, and don’t charge me with anything, which I was grateful for. But I left her house, that same night, feeling betrayed by her. I didn’t understand the psychological damage that she had suffered at the hands of these two men. She got to a point where she felt like being hit means she is being loved.

Eventually they divorced. She started dating a boy 20 yrs her junior. Who also put his hands on her several times. Needless to say, I confronted him countless times, beat his ass once, but she always went back to him.

My resolve as an adult was to never, ever allow a man to do that to me. My dream became to open up a women’s shelter. And anytime I see a man abusing a woman, I confront him. Yes, I know it could lead to bodily harm, but I can’t stand by and watch people get hurt. I’ve never been a coward.

Which is why, I will never understand how I ended up here. Living with an ex, who has no problem getting physical when his intellect is threatened. Or if he gets caught cheating. I’ve talked to his parents, friends, police, and nobody believes what happened, because they “know him”. They just don’t know him like I do.

Needless to say, my Mom was aware of what was going on, and on many occasions wanted to handle the problem herself. But I wouldn’t let her. I worry that she died scared for me. Scared the way I was when I heard silence, after the loud cracks of my father’s abusive smacks. I am in the process of moving out, but strangely, I don’t find myself scared of my ex. What scares me is that one of us is going to say the wrong thing, and I’m going to end up on an episode of Snapped. Killing him for me, for my mother, for my friends, and for my neighbor who was murdered by her husband. Killing him for all the women who couldn’t fight back, or all the women who stayed for financial reasons. Killing him for all the women who think they deserve this kind of treatment.

Disclaimer: I’m not REALLY killing anyone, these are only feelings.

There are times I just feel so stupid. I should’ve seen the signs. How could I, who has seen domestic violence since childhood, fall for his charm? Or is he really a good man, that I turned into a monster. My heart asks these questions. But logically, I know it’s time to go. So we’ll see how this story ends.

 

 

 

NO you aren’t Crazy!

I remember the first time I tried to talk to my abuser about the abuse. He immediately got agitated, telling me it was my fault, retelling the story to favor himself. I was so beaten down mentally at this point, having convinced myself I was partly to blame. Changing my language when I talked about it to please him. I was only allowed to say he put his hands on me, not hit me, beat me or choked me. I was being gaslighted and didn’t know. I began to doubt my memory, believe I was crazy that I had a problem that needed to be fixed. He was denying my reality and I started to doubt how much was real.

My abuser has convinced me I was crazy, so much I went to therapy sessions because he said I needed help. I went to anger management because he said I was angry and needed help (funny how my yelling was a problem but not his violent outburst). Even after leaving him I thought I was the problem and tried to fix myself. But deep down I knew I wasn’t crazy, that my lived experiences were valid and real. After having my feelings, thoughts and memories invalidated for so long I honestly believed him and apologized for things I didn’t really do wrong. I was ashamed of behavior I didn’t remember doing and things I didn’t remember saying because it didn’t happen but he needed me to believe I was crazy.

You abuser needs you to not believe yourself, that you are crazy and not to trust your own judgement. He needs you off balanced so you are easier to manipulate, easier to control. If he can convince you that you are crazy, then it’s even easier to convince others. If he can have you seen as crazy even if you find the courage to tell someone about the abuse he has laid the grown work to discredit you. Gaslighting is a form of mental abuse, meant to have you doubting yourself and believing your abuser. Every time he says, “That never happened”, “You must be confused”, “You’re just too sensitive” or ‘I never said/did that”, he is denying your reality. He is brainwashing you, making it harder to leave.

 

I need you to know, NO you aren’t crazy, what is happening isn’t right and yes you need to leave. Don’t let him deny what you know is true. You know deep down you don’t deserve this and this is isn’t love.

Most importantly I want to repeat NO you are not crazy, don’t let him manipulate further.

Broken

I was broken, beaten, and left to die until I found the courage to leave. During the journey I was able to find myself again while learning to love and trust. My story starts 13 years ago when I met a man who was charming, intelligent, sweet, and caring; all the attributes a woman wants in a partner. He made me feel so special that I fell deep in love and would do anything for him, that’s how much I loved him. Not too long after the relationship started I noticed a different side to him, I ignored all the signs because I was so in love and did not want to believe that the man i loved would bring me harm. At first it was just an open handed slap to parts of the body that could be covered so that no one would know his secret. After every fight he came back with an apology and promise to never do it again and every time I took him back with the hopes that it will get better. As the relationship progresses the fights became more often and the abuse only got worse. On one particular day I had just finished painting our kitchen, I went to take a bath before my man got home and while I was laying in the tub he came walking in with a 2×4 pissed off that I had painted the wrong color. He sat next to me asking questions like he always did waving the 2×4 around because he was enraged over a paint color. You see this man had a very dark side to him, not only was he charming and intelligent but he was also very jealous, controlling, and possessive. He didn’t trust women and for him women were beneath him and were only put on this earth to serve their men. My relationship got to the point where I was not to speak unless spoken too, go out without him, or even talk to my family because in his mind they were trying to get between us and he couldn’t stand that. I could not talk to, be friends with, or even look at another man because again in his mind I would leave him. There were days where I would be locked in a room because I was defiant, or I didn’t do something he wanted me to do and this was my punishment. That day I painted the wrong color was a day that is burned into my memory as one of the ugliest days in my life but definitely not the worst. He was so enraged that he took that 2×4 and beat the hell out of me. I had a fractured cheek bone, 2 broken ribs, a broken arm, and 2 disks in my back were dislocated. When the police were finally called I was rushed to the hospital and he was nowhere in sight (he didn’t want to go to jail). After my recovery and like many times before I took him back with the same old promise that he would never do it again. Ladies there will always be a next time, men like this do not change it only gets worse and it took me having a gun in my face to realize I might just die by the hands of a man I truly loved. You see ladies, the day he put a gun in my face it was over me looking at another man with whom he thought I was having an affair with however that was not the case. Like many times before he beat me until I was bruised, battered and alone. This was my turning point, I needed to find help and get away because I was sure he was going to kill me. I finally got out with the help of a coworker and went into hiding. I was so scared that he was going to find me that I drove to another state and found a shelter that took me in, and gave me the necessary help I needed. I had one on one therapy as well as group therapy which taught me how to love myself again. U R NOT ALONE ladies! If you get one thing from this story, please get that living in fear is not a life that GOD has intended for you. That man that abuses you whether its emotionally, verbally, physically will NEVER change.  

 

Here is a poem written by Elizabeth Booth she is a survivor and this has helped through it all!

 

WE WANT YOU TO LISTEN

 

   We want you to listen…Our voice is heard when used

No longer will we stay silent about our abuse.

   No longer will we lie…To ourselves, to others, trying to 

defend you by the reasons we gave for why our faces or bodies

were broken and bruised.

 

    Our voice speaks for those who are no longer

with us. “Violence” by your hands claimed those

lives of our sisters. They cannot stand here today and fight by

our sides. But know this …That their spirits guide us and give

us courage, strength and the will, along with the power to 

“Take Back The Night!”

 

    You made these women “Martyrs” whom we have drawn

close to our hearts. We are survivors of Domestic Violence!

We are the women you constantly put down…We are the women

you struck, strangled and beat down…

    We are the women you could not keep down.

    We are still here!

    You have power over us no more. You cannot

and will not dictate our lives, controlling us with fear.

Yes…We are still here, united together, each from our

own individual experiences of pain, suffering, torment,

and lies, through tears we’ve seen in our children’s eyes…

      The questions we have are not…the WHYS??, but WHEN??

When will this stop? when will things change? when will this morbid, macabre madness end?

      Lives lost, homes broken, dreams shattered, memories from all of us women you 

battered…

      Together, our voices that we once kept silent form a powerful start at 

                STOPPING THE VIOLENCE.

 

Thanks so much for reading my story and I hope this will help all women find the strength to leave!

Why I Stayed

When people talk about domestic violence, too often the question gets asked, “why didn’t she leave him”. It was a question I once asked myself. See I was once a police officer, who responded to too many domestic related incidents. I’ve seen, women stabbed, beat up, scared and raped by the hands of men who claimed they loved them. Men they built families with, married and loved. I couldn’t understand how smart, educated, put together women could stay with men who hurt them. I thought these women were crazy, lacking self-love or were just plain stupid…. until I became that woman.

I met my abuser on Myspace, unlike the million other guys who praised my looks or professed their love he asked about who I was as a person, he wanted to learn me. He was charming, handsome and different then I was used to. We met in person and it was like a fairytale, he went out of his way to treat me like a princess. I was smitten by him. As we dated he continued to love bomb me, I felt like I was his one true love. When he asked me to marry him only 7 months later, I didn’t question why because we were in love.

We were married June 2, 2010, two days later I knew I made a mistake he wasn’t as charming anymore. I told him this and said I will get the marriage annulled he got on his knees and begged me to forgive him he was just stressed at work. I did, I mean it’s not like he hit me, he just yelled at me a bit. So I stayed.

October 2010, I’m preparing to leave my only home and fly to a foreign country to be with my abuser. We get into a fight on the phone, I raise my voice after he insults me, he told me if I was in front of him he would have chocked the shit out of me. I was shocked, he had never threatened me with violence before. I know I shouldn’t leave, but I already gave in notice for my job and my apartment. I start making excuses maybe he is still stressed. I forgive him without prompting because he hasn’t actually hit me. So I stayed,

November 2010, less than two after I arrived in this foreign land to live with my abuser as his wife he grabs me by my throat and slams me against a wall during an argument. I cry and he hugs me and says he is sorry, its work it has him stressed. He will never do that again he promises. I believe him, I forgive him I stay, I mean it’s not like he blacked my eye. So I stayed.

January 2011, we find out we are pregnant. The excitement only lasts the week as the next week he almost kills me as he strangles me, telling me how he should snap my neck. I feel my body giving out, it hurts as no oxygen is getting in, I can’t fight back because of the hold he has me in. I think I’m going to die, I’ll never meet my baby. I came to this foreign land to die. He lets me go in time, before I could lose consciousness. I was scared I almost left, but he cried he apologized. He is just really stressed at work and I’m not helping questioning him about his whereabouts. I forgive him, I stay, I mean it’s not like he actually killed me and I can be kind of a nag. So I stayed,

This cycle of abusive behavior went on until I finally left my abuser in 2012. At the time I still truly didn’t believe I was a victim, that my husband was ‘really’ an abuser. He wasn’t like that all the time, he was charming, loving and tender. But he was also controlling, selfish, violent, a cheater and mean. I loved him; I gave up a promising career to be his wife. I’m smart and I had my life together, I couldn’t turn around and prove the nah sayers right. I couldn’t prove my father right, that this man was using me, would hit me and I shouldn’t marry him. So I stayed.

I stayed because I had convinced myself it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. I stayed because I loved him. I stayed because I didn’t want to be a single mother of two children. I stayed because I wanted to prove my father wrong about my abuser. I stayed because I had no money, he kept me from making more while using my life savings to sustain our family and his lifestyle due to his financial irresponsibility. I stayed because I wanted a father in my children’s lives. I stayed because leaving seemed more of a risk than staying.

We all have different reasons why we stay, why now isn’t the right time to leave. Yes, it’s easy to think we are stupid, crazy or just lacking self-love to judge our motives. But I ask that next time you find out that a woman (or man) is being abused don’t judge instead help her because she may not realize it yet but she has to leave. It’s hard to leave a man you love, even more so when he has manipulated you and controlled you for so long. She doesn’t need your judgey questions about why she stayed she needs you to help give her the strength to leave.