My Story

A few years ago I was part of women's committee at Michigan State University which discussed how to approach specific problems related to women. The committee was made up of students (mostly undergraduate and traditional), campus resource managers and the Vice President for Student Affairs. One day the director of the Domestic Violence Shelter located on campus came to speak about relationship violence and the resources available to those who might need them. The information, coming from a source who had learned everything about abuse through a degree program in Sociology and from the women she assisted, did not seem to cause the students to stand up and take notice. I decided it was time to bring an "I've lived it" experience to the table. While I spoke, the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. When I finished, facial expressions told me I had managed to get the point across: if you have been abused physically, emotionally or sexually by a friend, partner or spouse, now is the time to GET OUT of the relationship!

You might ask why I would tell my story publicly, here on the internet where millions of people could read it. The answer is simple: millions of women are abused each year yet only a small fraction of those women seek help. Often times, intervention from law enforcement agencies will set the wheels in motion but they can only go so far. The next step is up to the woman and if she refuses to take that step, there is nothing the law can do to force her out of a violent situation.

Familiar patterns in relationship abuse often develop in three phases: the tension-building phase, the explosion or the actual beating phase, and the loving phase.

The tension builds over a series of small occurences such as a request for money, a refusal to do all the household chores, serving a meal that isn't pleasing to the spouse, or a similar incident. What follows in inevitable. The wife may become the object of any or all of the following assaults: punching with fists, choking, kicking, knifing, slamming against the wall, throwing to the floor, or shoving down the stairs. Sometimes even threats with a gun have been reported.

When the beating is over, the couple move into the third phase. The batterer feels guilty about what he has done; he is sorry and may become loving toward the spouse. He assures his spouse that he will never do anything violent or hurtful to her again. At that moment he may believe he will not hurt her again. She wants to believe him, hoping he will change. However, even with professional help, the tension building and the assaults may continue.

As you read my story, you will see that all of these patterns were evident. Although I never had a gun drawn on me, I experienced the assaults mentioned above with a few extra thrown in such as a telephone receiver being broken over my head, dishes and glassware being thrown at me (sometimes with food on them), my hands stomped on by a 250-pound man wearing steel-toe work boots, and the list goes on. Through all this, I sought medical help only twice, pressed charges against him once (which I dropped) and never fought back. I remember paying a visit to an aunt one day and she noticed a few bruises. I made up an excuse, but she didn't buy it. As we talked over coffee, she told me about the day my uncle threatened to "knock her out". He was sitting at the kitchen table eating his dinner. My aunt rose from the table, went to the drawer and pulled out a butcher knife. Coming up from behind, she put the knife to his throat and told him "if you ever think of touching me, you can just kiss your ass good-bye". Through almost 40 years of marriage, he never threatened her again.

To maintain his privacy, my ex-husband will be referred to as "M".

As a child I was taught that lying is a sin and there was no such thing as a "little white lie". One of the things a victim of domestic violence learns quickly is how to tell a good lie. We've all heard them: "I ran into a cupboard door", "I tripped while walking down the stairs", "I was wrestling with the kids", "my husband elbowed me during the night", etc., etc. I know them all; I've used them all. In fact, I actually did run into the cupboard one day - on the way down after being punched in the eye. Yet, when the police arrived, I accepted a ride to the hospital (I needed stitches over my eye) but I refused to press charges and the cycle of violence continued.

I had grown up in a violent household, a victim of physical and emotional child abuse. When I met M, he also admitted to being abused. We both wanted out of hostile environments and felt that marriage was the best way to escape. Back then, no one really talked about child abuse: children were raised under the "spare the rod and spoil the child" attitude. The same attitude was attached to domestic violence; it was definitely not a high priority as far as law enforcement was concerned.

We had been married about six months when the abuse began. M was upset because there was never enough money for extras (such as model airplane kits or additions to his train sets). I had become pregnant on the honeymoon and by the third month was forced to quit my job due to severe leg cramps. I stretched the budget as far as it could go and we were able to pay all the bills every month. There just wasn't anything left over for luxuries!!

After the first time, it seemed easier for M to hit me and he really didn't need an excuse. He was tired, he had a bad day at work, the house wasn't clean enough, he wanted to have sex but I didn't, and the list goes on. I really should have left as soon as the abuse began, but not believing in divorce and with a baby on the way, I prayed that things would soon change for the better. They never did. As the family grew, the abuse became more severe. After the birth of my second child, I was shocked to learn that I was not the only woman in M's life. This news would put me over the edge and I decided it was time to take action. While M was at work and with the help of my sister, I rented a trailer and moved our (mine and my daughters) belongings out of the house. We had nowhere to go but that didn't stop me. I had been working for several months and had a few dollars saved. I knew my paychecks wouldn't go very far but I would have to make do the best I could. I was taking tiny steps toward an imaginary finish line. Top priorities: find a place to live and get myself a lawyer.

I accomplished the two priorities in record time; two weeks to be exact! Those baby steps grew a bit larger and I set new priorities - but they were too far off and would take much more time to accomplish. In the meantime, M began calling me at work or meeting me after work. He pleaded with me to take him back. He promised to change (remember this - it's impossible to change a Zebra's stripes!!!). Within a week I broke down and allowed him back into my life. That night was the start of another round of abuse and deception, along with the conception of my third child.

Since the job had given me the opportunity to leave M, I believe it became a risk-factor in our marriage. On the pretext that one income (his) was enough to support the family, I was told to quit my job; and being the dutiful wife I was, I did exactly as I was told. By the time our son was born, M had found a new hobby - this time it involved a sports car, a car club, and road rallies. One of the family cars was sold in order to purchase a Saab which would be modified for the rallies. Since the Saab was a 2-seater (and we had three children), I never got the chance to ride in it. It didn't take long, however, to learn that others were getting rides - other women that is. No one had to tell me, I just knew. Whenever M was seeing another woman, the intensity of verbal and emotional abuse grew and I was also accused of seeing other men (a typical cover-up by a cheating husband!). I finally confronted M about the other women and he swore it wasn't true. What he didn't know was that I had spoken to his lastest girlfriend that very day. Not knowing that he was married, the girl sent a letter to the house proclaiming her love for M and talking of eventual marriage. A small bit of detective work got me the girl's phone number and we had a nice chat while I scrubbed the kitchen floor.

But this time my options were limited. I had no job and no money, and my sister surmissed an instant replay of the last time I attempted to leave. I didn't know where to turn so I pretended nothing happened. And the cycle of abuse and deception continued. M never admitted to cheating the second time, but when he brought up the subject of buying a house I knew it was his way of throwing the rug over the dirt. This was part of the cycle - cheat and abuse, beg for forgiveness, then seal the deal with a gift. But the house did not materialize - the money for the down payment having been spent to repair the Saab. A few years and many bruises later, I found myself pregnant with our fourth child and again I felt trapped to remain in a marriage where there was no love, just hatred and abuse. K was born with birth defects which kept her hospitalized for almost two months and I spent every available minute at her bedside. There was an emptiness inside of me that could not be filled. I became a walking zombie. I would clean house at 5:00 am, after M left for work. After the two oldest children were sent off to school, and my son to a sitter, the day was spent at my daughter's bedside. I would come home just before the girls arrived home from school in order to have dinner on the table when M got home from work. Then it was back to the hospital until the end of visiting hours. By then it was time to give the kids their baths and put them to bed and many times it also meant cleaning up messes the kids made while their father slept on the couch. If I got to bed before midnight, I considered it a miracle. But M had been sleeping the whole time I was gone and was ready for action. If he didn't get it, I paid the consequences. My mother still insists there is no such thing as marital rape, but I know better. Consensual sex between a husband and wife is love-making; forcing yourself on a woman after beating her senseless is rape! It had been a long time since I could say I loved M, and consensual sex between us was not the norm. To avoid the beatings, more often than not I gave in to his needs, but there were those nights that I would fall asleep as my head hit the pillow only to be awakened by force to fulfill the needs of this monster. I could not tell you how or when my youngest son, child number 5, was conceived - this was all I needed, another baby!!

This pregnancy was the hardest of them all - my doctor had warned me that the baby and I were both in danger and that I should consider an abortion but I opted to continue the pregancy. When my son was born, complications arose and I wound needing an immediate hysterectomy. My first thought - thank goodness, five kids was more than enough. M's first thought - I can't keep her barefoot and pregnant anymore. I remained in the hospital for almost two weeks which didn't weigh easily on M - I should be home cleaning his mess and cooking his meals. When I did finally get home, M informed me that he needed a vacation. Taking our only car, he headed south to visit relatives. I was left to care for a newborn, a sick baby, and 3 other children under the age of 8. I should have been jumping for joy that he wasn't around to make life miserable for me, but instead I wanted him home (now that I think about it, I was more concerned about being left with a car!!).

My son's birth was the beginning of the end, although it took several years before the light at the end of the tunnel became bright enough for me to see. I began to suspect another woman in M's life and my suspicions were again confirmed. The abuse intensified so greatly, I considered death as a way out of my pain. When M realized I knew about his mistress, phases two and three of his womanizing cycle took affect! This time, however, I got my house and I thought maybe he really would change (Remember the Zebra!!!!). The only thing that did change, however, were the new neighbors who heard our fights and noticed my sunglasses on cloudy days. I took a part-time job at K-Mart just before the recession hit but when M took a lower paying job at the factory, my job didn't come close to meeting our financial needs. M said he would also get a part-time job but after a month of his "night job" and no paycheck arrived, I knew something was amiss. We no longer "fought"; by now it came down to when he would finally strike me with a fatal blow! M also added a few new game plans to his already full bucket of abuse, one of which was his attempts to keep me from sleeping and another forbidding me to visit my friends - he just knew that I was not only sleeping with their husbands, but I was also getting my sexual jollies with male co-workers. I knew that remaining in the marriage was putting my life in danger, but I had to think about the kids. They needed a mother AND a father, and as long as they were not in danger I would just have to live with the abuse.

I soon learned, however, that my children were in danger. I began to have my suspicions when the three older kids seemed to be having more accidents than usual while I was at work. It wasn't much - a bruise here or a scrape there. Children play and get hurt, so I didn't think much of it. I knew the kids were not allowed to play outside or to roughhouse indoors while I was at work - M's rule. I was also aware that M would fall asleep on the couch every night after dinner whether I was home or not. Not only did his naps allow the kids to do as they pleased, it also allowed M to be well rested when I wanted to sleep - it was part of the game! How many times have you been told that housework and caring for the kids is not a REAL job? The only REAL job was one you got paid for, and working part-time at K-Mart didn't count! But I was not just caring for 2 pre-schoolers and cleaning the house from top to bottom everyday. Because of our financial situation, I had taken on two other jobs - one as a newspaper carrier and another as a substitute school crossing guard. The crossing guard job required me to be on my corner three times a day - in the morning, at lunchtime, and when school let out. After the morning duty I would clean the house and whatever other chores needed to be done. Between the lunch and after-school duty, I would deliver the newspapers and prepare dinner. After-school duty ended at 4:00 pm, which gave me just enough time to put dinner on the table and get to work by 5:00 pm. By the time I returned home (about 10:30), I was exhausted and usually headed straight to bed. And that's when the game would start. I barely had the chance to close my eyes when the bedroom light would go on and M would start laying into me about one thing or another. When he thought I'd had enough, the light would go off and he'd walk away, only to return five minutes later to continue his argument. There were nights I wasn't able to sleep until M left for work in the morning - which gave me about an hour before it was time to get the kids ready for school.

In my teen's, I had been diagnosed with "trick" knees - my knees would pop out of their socket and would have to be popped back in. Eventually, surgery had to be done to repair the damage. During the first 12 years of marriage, I had undergone three such surgeries, 2 on the left knee and one on the right. I also had arthritis in both knees. The three jobs literally took their toll on my knees, especially the left. I finally saw a doctor for the pain and was informed that my left kneecap had to be removed because osteoarthritis had eaten away at it. I had to give up the crossing guard and carrier jobs and took medical leave from K-Mart while I recovered from yet another surgery. My mother agreed to stay at the house to care for the kids while I was in the hospital. It was while I was hospitalized that I made the decision to divorce M. One night mom called and said that my husband had beaten the 3 older kids because they made a mess in the basement (they had a few toys on the floor). That's when I decided it was time to put a stop to the abuse. I had allowed this man to abuse me for almost 13 years, and I put up with it for the sake of the kids. But now he was beating my kids and I would not allow that. I promised myself that I would file for divorce as soon as I was able to go back to work. And I kept that promise. It took a bit of deceit to come up with the resources (I did things I never thought I was capable of!), but by the time I went back to work, between the resources I had found and my first paycheck, I was able to hire an attorney. Not sure of what he might do, I arranged to be away from home the day M was served with papers.

Unfortunantly, I didn't know about restraining orders, and my attorney never mentioned it, so M was allowed to remain in the house until the divorce was final. I did take measures to protect myself, such as putting a lock on my bedroom door and moving M to the basement. As usual, M had his cycle of forgiveness up his sleeve, but try as he might, it didn't work this time. During the next three months, M was a perfect husband - the abuse had totally stopped. He pleaded with me to drop the divorce, again promising to change. I almost gave in! I spoke with my attorney and we decided to test his promises. The divorce would be put on hold for up to six months and I was to tell M that it had been dropped. It didn't take long for the abuse, lying and cheating to start again or for me to call my attorney to set a court date. This time M tried a new stategy - he made an appointment with the priest for marriage counseling. I went only because I felt the priest would understand why I could no longer live with this person. But I was wrong! The priest informed me that my vows said "for better or worse" and I was to do as I was told because I promised to "love, honor and OBEY". The priest had never been married - what did he know about spending your life in an abusive relationship!! And what about M? He wasn't fulfilling his vows!! M was happy with the outcome and set up another appointment - I refused to go. As the hearing date grew closer, M realized I was not going to give in and finally got himself a lawyer.

It was Sunday night and two days before the hearing. M and I bowled on the same league and we had argued on the way home. Just as M was about to pull into the driveway, I back-handed him across the face. With the car still moving, I jumped out and ran to the house, hoping to get in and lock myself in my room before he could get to me. I wasn't fast enough. Before I could close the front door, M was at it. I pushed - he pushed harder. A neighbor called the police. After getting the story, the police asked if anyone was hurt - I was, I had broken my finger in the shoving match. Then the police turned to M and asked if HE wanted to press charges against ME!! I couldn't press charges against M because he had not actually touched me. M thought for a minute, but decided against it because someone had to be there for the kids. When I walked into the courtroom on Tuesday morning with a splint on my finger and copies of the police and hospital reports, the judge needed no other proof that continuing this marriage would not be in my best interest. The abuse would end right then and there!!

My favorite Beatles song was released many years after I regained my life, but Free as a Bird is how I felt the moment I walked out of the courthouse. I had been freed from an abusive marriage, but I would never be free from the scars the marriage left behind. The external injuries would heal but the internal injuries (those of the mind and heart) would take many more years to heal and quite possibly, live on forever. It's been over 20 years since my divorce but I still hurt inside. It's a kind of hurt that cannot be described. It's a hurt that overpowers the worst pain I might endure due to my physical disabilities. It's a kind of hurt you hope no one else ever has to feel.

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