This was a lot more difficult than I expected. Prior to posting this, I have really only ever spoken to a few people about the events of that September day.
You can watch the video here:
It is so incredible that our brains and bodies can be transported back into a situation that happened so long ago. As I was filming, it was like I was there. The panic and fears came flooding back.
Abuse is the only crime (or one of very few) where the victim is immediately questioned and responsibility is placed on the victim. Questions like
“Why did you stay so long?”
“What did you do to make him mad?”
“What did you do to try to protect yourself?”
“What were you wearing?” (in SA situations)
Those questions all put the blame on the victim. And they remove fault and responsibility from the perpetrator. Why is that our first instinct? Why aren’t we safe-havens for people reaching out?
According to the CDC, “about 41% of women and 26% of men experienced contact sexual violence, physical violence, and/or stalking by an intimate partner and reported an intimate partner violence-related impact during their lifetime.” [1] And only around 27% of domestic abuse cases are reported to law enforcement. Every 9 seconds, in the US, a woman is assaulted. [2]
I suppose the reason this memory is so difficult for me to speak about is because, now as an adult, I can see how lucky I am to have survived and gotten away. Leaving an abusive relationship is the most dangerous time… according to the Domestic Violence Intervention Program reports that women are 70 times more likely to be killed in the 2 weeks after leaving. [2] At 16, I was unable to see this, and I am kind of glad I didn’t realize the full weight of what had truly transpired. I think that would have been too much for me. But now, looking back, it is undeniable.
I saw this pin on Pinterest the other day. I have never had a writing prompt show up before, at least not that I have noticed. And this one stopped my scroll.
I chuckled to myself. Alright. Fine. I’ll start writing.
The moment I knew I needed to leave **** was easy. It was a Sunday afternoon, I had gone to the movies with my Grandma, cousin, and sister. **** and I had gotten into a fight before because going anywhere without **** was a problem.
This is one of those big abuse signs that I didn’t notice. They like to isolate you from friends and family.
I was annoyed that we were arguing over a Sunday matinee with my Grandma. Like really? So I went. And when we walked out of the theater, he was there. Waiting. Unhappy.
An argument ensued. I am fairly certain my Grandma and cousin had left before the argument. I basically told him to get lost and that I had to run an errand for my mom before going home. The errand was to pick up a few things from the grocery store, which was in the same strip mall as the theater.
When my sister and I got to Publix, he was right on my tail. Mouthing off. Agitated.
I was nervous. Now my body is going into fight or flight. I split the list with my sister, told her to grab those things as quickly as possible and meet me in the checkout. I raced through Publix, **** was right there the entire time.
Panic level is increasing.
We make it out to the parking lot, and we are practically running to my car. My sister gets in, I almost make it into the driver’s seat. Just as I am about to sit, he reaches in, grabs me by my arms and pulls me from the car.
Absolute panic.
My sister gets out, I yell for her to get back in the car and stay there. I was able to toss the keys toward her as he begins dragging me through the parking lot.
I was yelling for help. I remember the faces of the people watching. No one helped. Everyone was just kind of frozen. This is how people get kidnapped runs through my mind.
The conversation at his truck is a blur. Lots of the normal abuser BS – I’m sorry. I just love you so much. I need you. Yuck.
I knew my parents were going to find out about this. There was going to be no hiding this scenario from them. My little sister saw the whole thing. When I was safely in my house, I called and broke up with him.
Of course, leaving an abusive relationship is the most dangerous time. And I was going to find that out soon enough.
I have gone back and forth on the idea of sharing my story for years. I have wanted to get this out of me, and storytelling has always been a way for me to process things. Lately, I have felt almost this physical need to share this stuff. October is domestic violence awareness month. Staying silent for so long has only hurtme more.
This will help me. And maybe it will help someone else too.
When you hear the term “abusive relationship”, do you immediately think of physical abuse? It has been my experience that that is the most common response. Abuse can take many forms: mental, physical, emotional, sexual, financial. Abuse is progressive. Abuse knows no prejudice – it does not discriminate.
In my experience, mental and emotional have been the most dangerous. I am not going to make light of any kind of physical abuse, but the majority of abuse I have had the hardest time healing from has been the mental and emotional abuse inflicted. They are like silent killers – it is very difficult for an outsider to see these abuses.
The systematic breakdown takes time. And it takes so much longer for the victim to recover from. Our minds play tricks on us… we gaslight ourselves; we downplay the trauma; we make excuses for the behavior of others; we take on the blame and responsibility.
And I hate it.
As this has been playing over and over in my mind lately, I can’t help but think about how I survived. More than survived, I have thrived.
I could have let this stuff swallow me whole. But I never did. Why?
A while ago, my therapist asked me what I think my best quality or characteristic is… something I am proud of being. I said, “I am resilient.” She smiled and pointed out that resiliency only comes from adversity. You can’t be resilient if you have never gone through anything. Resiliency only comes for those who have gone through hell.
Is it any wonder that Dante’s Inferno was a favorite book of mine? The journey though hell. How poetic.
So again, I am faced with why. Why did I survive and not dive into the darkness? Life has surely tried to beat me down.
When I was a teenager, I got knocked off my walk with God. I remember that night clear as day. In Bible class, when the teacher asked if there were any prayer requests, a ‘friend’ said we needed to pray for her friend ***** because Mindy was spreading lies about him and there was a court thing the next day. (This is the situation I reference in the video.)
I had not told anyone about those events. I never spoke about them. I was still trying to process it all myself. So, hearing this request felt like I had been shot right there. I felt naked, exposed, like my deepest fears had been paraded around in front of me. You know that old adage about being hit by a bus? — This felt like a train.
I declined to comment on this prayer request and then sat there, willing myself not to panic, as the class actually prayed for this guy.
After class, I told the ‘friend’ we were done, I never wanted to speak to her again. And I mentally checked out of church. I still attended with my family, and even continued going all through college. But my heart wasn’t there. I was just going through the motions.
I suppose deep-down I knew I was going to need it one day. I was going to need something much bigger than me to save me. So I never walked away completely.
I truly believe that is the only thing that saved me. God, church, the Bible saved my life. Literally, mentally, spiritually, emotionally. That foundation and absolute faith has brought me here. Without it, I would have been a goner.
I was lost. Sometimes I still feel lost.
The Bible says that all things work for the good. That doesn’t mean we won’t have difficult times or hard lives, but rather that everything works for God’s plan, His good. Maybe that’s what this is. Maybe sharing is the good. Maybe raising three really good, strong humans is the good. Perhaps one day I will get the answer.
