Abuse. That's a word that gets used—and maybe
over-used—a lot nowadays. But as a survivor of domestic violence
and over-comer of the effects of it, I've come to learn that there
are lots of kinds of abuse. My challenge these days to people who
throw the word around is is “Define abuse”.
Abuse crosses all lines and breaks every boundary.
The plague of abuse affects all races, all faiths, all nationalities,
all classes—and yes, even all genders. I'd be willing to guess that
most of us, if not all, have been affected either directly or
indirectly by it--even if that just means someone we know at some
proximity. And make no mistake, the effects do reach far. Obviously,
the person who is at the receiving end of the fist, club, belt, shoe
et cetera shows the physical results in the form of black eyes,
busted lips, broken ear-drums, broken noses, broken bones, burns and
so on. But there is something worse and more insidious that does not
heal. There is a moment when you are aware that you are now afraid of
him or her. That, my friend, is the beginning of the end. The
defining moment when your relationship is over. Now it's just a
matter of walking it out. You will find a way and a time to escape.
Or not. And therein lies the rub. This is a life or death situation.
You WILL leave or one of you will die. What kept me from killing my
abuser (who loved me) was the fact that (a) I didn't want our little
son to lose his daddy (who he loved, in spite of the abuse he
received) and (b) I didn't want him to lose his mommy to a life
sentence in prison. Plus, then someday, I'd be called upon to explain
to him why I killed his beloved daddy.
So leave you must. That's the trick. Statistics say
that about 4,000 women a year are murdered by their abusers and of
the total domestic violence homicides, about 75% of the victims were
killed as they attempted to leave the relationship or after the
relationship had ended. That is intimidating! Of course, then let's
talk about a type of abuse that is hardly recognized, though it's
just a matter of time. And that's financial. Just like a good abuser,
s/he will keep you broke and penniless. And isolated and friendless.
Like any predator, they will cut the weakest out of the pack and
isolate you for the kill. That's part of the plan. The last time I
left, I had six dollars, and no friends or family left that would
help me. OR believe that “this time, I'm serious”. This is all
part of the plan to control you and keep you dependent upon them. Do
not make the mistake of letting yourself become brain-washed into
believing that it's your fault. It's NOT. You are better; you deserve
better. The problem is in their head, not yours. Most likely some
childhood issues. Understandable, but not acceptable. So practice in
your head what you take and what you will leave—taking bare
necessities. “Clean out and re-arrange your drawers” in such a
way as to not arouse attention or suspicion. But when you get your
moment, you will know just what to grab and run. Start hiding some
pennies away too, as hard as they are to get. I know how creative we
can be when needed! So when you have some cash hidden away and you
have some clothes in mind to take, then you can think about planning
WHEN you can go. And, very importantly, WHERE! Back in the days when
I was being abused, there WERE no shelters then! No Oprahs or Dr.
Phils to tell me what to do. In those days, we just had to figure it
out. Some did, some didn't. Nowadays, you go to the library and you
research shelters in your area and you have the phone numbers ready.
And you know the number for the DOMESTIC VIOLENCE HOTLINE
1-800-799-7233. You don't put them in your phone, but you have 911
already in your phone—and that one won't arouse suspicion.
And of course, you pray. I remember lying with my
face in the carpet more than once, praying to sink through the floor
and all the while petitioning the Lord! “Oh Lord, if you just let
me get out of here one more time....” And finally, I escaped. I
took my ten year old son and I escaped with nothing but what I could
fit in my VW Beetle. It took a long time to stop having nightmares;
and a longer time to begin to learn to trust anyone. That trust
didn't begin to grow until years later-- once I realized I could
trust God. But I wanted to be healed, so I gave in to God! I can say
today that I am healed. I do still have trust issues (don't we all,
haha), but I am healed enough to be able to encourage others. The
good thing about being a cracked pot is that the light shines out
through the cracks for others to see.