Morrigan68
04-12-2004, 06:35 PM
I'm relatively new to this forum, though not to PTO. My name is Kelly, and I am a domestic violence survivor. I'd like to share my story with everyone who's interested and hopefully, hopefully, can help someone in some small way in the process.
When I was 15, I met a guy through a mutual friend. He was 21 and really cute! Well, we started dating, and it was of course perfect. Then, slowly, little things started to happen. He would get upset about something that he perceived was a wrongdoing on my part, and once left me out in the middle of nowhere to get home (it was at least 1/2 hour car ride...can you imagine the walk??). I was living at home with my mom then. My father had left when I was 11 and my brother had since moved out. My mom had her new social life and wasn't too concerned with her teenage daughter or the company she kept. So I guess I was ripe for someone abusive and controlling to come into my life.
I still remember the first time he hit me. I had just bought the tickets for Basketball Homecoming and we got into an argument. He slapped me across the face. I was shocked! Well, naturally for me, it was over! I wanted nothing to do with him. That's when he told me he was going to kill himself. He locked himself in a bedroom and lit a firecracker. I thought it was a gunshot. I was hysterical. Then he opened the door, and his smiling face looked back at me. He was glad to know that I cared.
Things eventually got worse from there. The slaps became hits, the threats became real. The fists he used turned into knives sometimes, depending in the situation. Puncture marks in my neck, sliced-open hands. By that time he had moved in with me. My mother was actually comforted by a male in the house again...what a joke.
Only my closest friends knew of the abuse. I was ashamed, humiliated. Not something I wanted to advertise. Of course, the eventual questions of "why don't you leave him??" started coming. Sure, okay. By then, he had me so terrified of him that the very thought of leaving him meant my death sentence. If I called the police on him, he would get out and kill me (his words). If I ever thought about leaving him for another man, two death sentences (the new man and me). Not to mention, where could I possibly go to escape? I had no one else. He knew where all my friends lived. He showed up at my job one time and tried to attack me right in front of everyone. He had absolutely no qualms about where or when he would abuse me. I was trapped.
By this time I was out of high school and working. I got pregnant with our son. At 18 I was pregnant, no marketable job skills to speak of. I was working at a hot dog stand for money and every payday, he would wait for me to come home from work, literally with his hand out. I was not allowed to have money of my own. I had no freedom whatsoever. I was no longer allowed to go out with my girlfriends - they were whores (his words again). If by some streak of luck I got his permission to go out, I had a curfew. One night I went out to a bar with my mother and her boyfriend while he threw a party at my house. I was later than I said I would be and he was waiting up for me with a butcher knife in hand.
I could go on and on with different stories of the nightmare I went through, but it would take more space than this forum would allow. He constantly cheated on me throughout our relationship. Sometimes with girls who, if he were ever turned in, he would be in prison for statutory rape. He had a special affinity for my son's babysitters.
Well, after my son was born, I married him. Why? Because I was young and naive. I had no life outside of him and had no idea that I actually had rights. He told me that if I ever left him, the courts would give him sole custody of our son, because our son had his last name and I didn't. Crazy huh? Not to a terrified 19 year old girl it wasn't. So, on the night before our wedding, I lay in bed wondering how long I would have to stay married to him before I could divorce him and keep my son.
Of course I eventually mustered enough courage to call the police on him. He would always leave the house. When the cops got there, they told me that unless he was at home, there was nothing that they could do. Domestic violence was not the crime then that it is now. No one really cared much. Of course I got a beating for the inconvenience of him having to leave the house to avoid the police. Then there were the lawyers that I couldn't afford, whose only advice to me was to get a restraining order when I showed up with my face all bruised, then sent me on a wild goose chase looking for the right place to file for one. I eventually gave up and went home. He would have ignored it anyway.
So, this went on and on. I got pregnant again, this time with my daughter. I found out that he was cheating on me with a 15 year old girl and threw lemonade in his face. You would think that by carrying his child, I was safe for the time being right? Nope. He beat me then, just like before, pregnant and all. I thank God to this day that my daughter turned out beautifully, even though I had many problems with that pregnancy.
So, my mom ended up selling the house and moving to Denver. I went out to visit her, and while I was there, my brother called from Germany and said he was getting married, and asked if I could help him with some of the details since I was in the States. So I extended my visit, which turned out to be 6 weeks or so. I knew that my ex would be with another woman practically from the day I left, so all I had to do was find some evidence and I was out the door for good. My father had actually bought me a round-trip ticket home, only because it was cheaper, not because I was planning on returning to Denver. It was my good luck that he did.
So I go home, and the first thing he says to me when I get off the plane is "God you're huge!!!". I was about 8 months pregnant, but thanks for the compliment anyway jerk.
Well, it took all of about 5 days to find out that he had been with someone, and for his efforts had a nice little visit to the doctor's office for a shot :) I told him I'd had enough and I was taking our son and moving to Denver. He couldn't have cared less, thank God. I packed up everything I could carry for my son and I in two suitcases, and started a new life. My ex took us to the airport, kissed my son, and that was that. In a future court statement he told the judge that he didn't know where we were when we left Illinois. Funny, but I could have sworn that was you taking us to the airport moron.
I had a beautiful baby girl a month or so after I left. I called him to tell him about it, and he complained about what I named her. Loving father huh? Yeah, she and I are both fine, thanks for asking.
So in a nutshell, that's my story. I hope that anyone that's in any situation remotely like that will contact me, or anyone here, for help, advice, whatever. I learned after many years that I am worthy of love; that I don't have to stay in a relationship that's abusive because I don't deserve any better; that my children don't need to witness physical abuse firsthand and have nightmares; and that with nothing but two suitcases of clothes to my name, I could start a new life and be a success, at least to myself.
I taught myself how to type using an electronic typewriter and an egg timer. I now type 90 words a minute. I had no skills when I left - I am now a law clerk in a great law firm. I had no post-high school education - I am now almost finished with my degree in business.
To anyone going through this nightmare - you do matter; you can live a better life; and you don't have to put up with the pain anymore.
And please, for all of the people who haven't experienced this, don't be confused when you see a woman with a man like this. You wonder, "well, leave him why don't you??". Guess what? It's not that easy. Living with an abuser, you have no self-esteem; you have no self-worth; they put you down emotionally ever chance they get and convince you that you don't deserve better, that no one will want you, that you won't make it without them. If you're lucky enough to get away with just the verbal abuse that is. Try leaving and you get a double beating when he finds you, and believe me, he will find you. Victims of domestic violence don't enjoy pain; we don't "get off" on being beaten. We are thoroughly convinced there is no other way. We are trapped. We are prisoners, in mind and body. If "just leave" were only that simple...
Fortunately, today, domestic violence is taken seriously. You do have options and a chance to get out. People no longer look the other way at an abused woman. There is help, there is hope. Find the strength within you to make a choice to get some help.
Thanks for listening,
Kelly
When I was 15, I met a guy through a mutual friend. He was 21 and really cute! Well, we started dating, and it was of course perfect. Then, slowly, little things started to happen. He would get upset about something that he perceived was a wrongdoing on my part, and once left me out in the middle of nowhere to get home (it was at least 1/2 hour car ride...can you imagine the walk??). I was living at home with my mom then. My father had left when I was 11 and my brother had since moved out. My mom had her new social life and wasn't too concerned with her teenage daughter or the company she kept. So I guess I was ripe for someone abusive and controlling to come into my life.
I still remember the first time he hit me. I had just bought the tickets for Basketball Homecoming and we got into an argument. He slapped me across the face. I was shocked! Well, naturally for me, it was over! I wanted nothing to do with him. That's when he told me he was going to kill himself. He locked himself in a bedroom and lit a firecracker. I thought it was a gunshot. I was hysterical. Then he opened the door, and his smiling face looked back at me. He was glad to know that I cared.
Things eventually got worse from there. The slaps became hits, the threats became real. The fists he used turned into knives sometimes, depending in the situation. Puncture marks in my neck, sliced-open hands. By that time he had moved in with me. My mother was actually comforted by a male in the house again...what a joke.
Only my closest friends knew of the abuse. I was ashamed, humiliated. Not something I wanted to advertise. Of course, the eventual questions of "why don't you leave him??" started coming. Sure, okay. By then, he had me so terrified of him that the very thought of leaving him meant my death sentence. If I called the police on him, he would get out and kill me (his words). If I ever thought about leaving him for another man, two death sentences (the new man and me). Not to mention, where could I possibly go to escape? I had no one else. He knew where all my friends lived. He showed up at my job one time and tried to attack me right in front of everyone. He had absolutely no qualms about where or when he would abuse me. I was trapped.
By this time I was out of high school and working. I got pregnant with our son. At 18 I was pregnant, no marketable job skills to speak of. I was working at a hot dog stand for money and every payday, he would wait for me to come home from work, literally with his hand out. I was not allowed to have money of my own. I had no freedom whatsoever. I was no longer allowed to go out with my girlfriends - they were whores (his words again). If by some streak of luck I got his permission to go out, I had a curfew. One night I went out to a bar with my mother and her boyfriend while he threw a party at my house. I was later than I said I would be and he was waiting up for me with a butcher knife in hand.
I could go on and on with different stories of the nightmare I went through, but it would take more space than this forum would allow. He constantly cheated on me throughout our relationship. Sometimes with girls who, if he were ever turned in, he would be in prison for statutory rape. He had a special affinity for my son's babysitters.
Well, after my son was born, I married him. Why? Because I was young and naive. I had no life outside of him and had no idea that I actually had rights. He told me that if I ever left him, the courts would give him sole custody of our son, because our son had his last name and I didn't. Crazy huh? Not to a terrified 19 year old girl it wasn't. So, on the night before our wedding, I lay in bed wondering how long I would have to stay married to him before I could divorce him and keep my son.
Of course I eventually mustered enough courage to call the police on him. He would always leave the house. When the cops got there, they told me that unless he was at home, there was nothing that they could do. Domestic violence was not the crime then that it is now. No one really cared much. Of course I got a beating for the inconvenience of him having to leave the house to avoid the police. Then there were the lawyers that I couldn't afford, whose only advice to me was to get a restraining order when I showed up with my face all bruised, then sent me on a wild goose chase looking for the right place to file for one. I eventually gave up and went home. He would have ignored it anyway.
So, this went on and on. I got pregnant again, this time with my daughter. I found out that he was cheating on me with a 15 year old girl and threw lemonade in his face. You would think that by carrying his child, I was safe for the time being right? Nope. He beat me then, just like before, pregnant and all. I thank God to this day that my daughter turned out beautifully, even though I had many problems with that pregnancy.
So, my mom ended up selling the house and moving to Denver. I went out to visit her, and while I was there, my brother called from Germany and said he was getting married, and asked if I could help him with some of the details since I was in the States. So I extended my visit, which turned out to be 6 weeks or so. I knew that my ex would be with another woman practically from the day I left, so all I had to do was find some evidence and I was out the door for good. My father had actually bought me a round-trip ticket home, only because it was cheaper, not because I was planning on returning to Denver. It was my good luck that he did.
So I go home, and the first thing he says to me when I get off the plane is "God you're huge!!!". I was about 8 months pregnant, but thanks for the compliment anyway jerk.
Well, it took all of about 5 days to find out that he had been with someone, and for his efforts had a nice little visit to the doctor's office for a shot :) I told him I'd had enough and I was taking our son and moving to Denver. He couldn't have cared less, thank God. I packed up everything I could carry for my son and I in two suitcases, and started a new life. My ex took us to the airport, kissed my son, and that was that. In a future court statement he told the judge that he didn't know where we were when we left Illinois. Funny, but I could have sworn that was you taking us to the airport moron.
I had a beautiful baby girl a month or so after I left. I called him to tell him about it, and he complained about what I named her. Loving father huh? Yeah, she and I are both fine, thanks for asking.
So in a nutshell, that's my story. I hope that anyone that's in any situation remotely like that will contact me, or anyone here, for help, advice, whatever. I learned after many years that I am worthy of love; that I don't have to stay in a relationship that's abusive because I don't deserve any better; that my children don't need to witness physical abuse firsthand and have nightmares; and that with nothing but two suitcases of clothes to my name, I could start a new life and be a success, at least to myself.
I taught myself how to type using an electronic typewriter and an egg timer. I now type 90 words a minute. I had no skills when I left - I am now a law clerk in a great law firm. I had no post-high school education - I am now almost finished with my degree in business.
To anyone going through this nightmare - you do matter; you can live a better life; and you don't have to put up with the pain anymore.
And please, for all of the people who haven't experienced this, don't be confused when you see a woman with a man like this. You wonder, "well, leave him why don't you??". Guess what? It's not that easy. Living with an abuser, you have no self-esteem; you have no self-worth; they put you down emotionally ever chance they get and convince you that you don't deserve better, that no one will want you, that you won't make it without them. If you're lucky enough to get away with just the verbal abuse that is. Try leaving and you get a double beating when he finds you, and believe me, he will find you. Victims of domestic violence don't enjoy pain; we don't "get off" on being beaten. We are thoroughly convinced there is no other way. We are trapped. We are prisoners, in mind and body. If "just leave" were only that simple...
Fortunately, today, domestic violence is taken seriously. You do have options and a chance to get out. People no longer look the other way at an abused woman. There is help, there is hope. Find the strength within you to make a choice to get some help.
Thanks for listening,
Kelly