Wednesday, March 11, 2015

DEFINE ABUSE!

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.