Like most women, my introduction to domestic violence was sudden and smothering. I had no clue how potentially violent and dangerous this 18-year-old boy/man was or would become. I didn't know what to look for. And to his credit, he occasionally recognized the patterns and problems but didn't know what to do about it. He didn't understand why he did what he did, he only knew that his behavior was exactly what he'd been taught. By his explanation, he had never known a "normal" healthy loving relationship. He seriously believed it was "genetic" and that he had no choice in his behavior, which is partially true. Much of his family and he are bipolar* and are untreated for this disorder. When untreated or raised with violent abuse, it is not uncommon for an individual to develop the behavior patterns of Borderline Personality Disorder**, which behaviors often lead to bizarre, unpredictable and violent behavior patterns. So, it can be genetic and/or developed by traumatic abuse but, one always has a choice of whether to recieve medical treatment for it or not. He chose not stay on medication and made melodramatic presentations out of flushing his pills while saying he didn't want to be "controlled by drugs." The real problem was that he didn't want to give up the "high" and the intense feelings associated with the manic phase in order to give up the lows of the depressive phases or intensity of the violent phases.

Having been exposed to domestic violence as a child and having been trained to think as a victim generally does, I felt the need to be quiet and help him rather than stand up for myself. Having seen the pain inside of others who were violent and had been child victims of abuse, I felt great empathy for him and wanted him to feel love. I also felt that if he had any other type of illness, I'd stand by him ...so I should stand by him with this one. I just knew if he could feel loved then he would learn to love others in appropriate ways. What I didn't understand was that before anything would change he had to make the choice to accept that something was wrong and be willing to seek help.

I had sought help from my ecclesiastic leaders, but was repeatedly told to forgive and forget, go home, pray and work out our "differences." It took several years before I realized that this was truly a behavioral as well as medical problem. I tried to help him see that he needed help beyond what we'd sought. I educated myself, but it didn't do much good when he was unwilling to learn about his own illness, accept the problem and try to make changes.

I remained in our first marriage for eight years. I ran many times. Several times I loaded up our little 1964 2-door Dodge Dart with enough clothes and food for a couple of days and started driving. I had three little children all in car seats in the back seat. Once I headed east, on I-80. I got almost to Nevada and the fear of what he would do when he got home gripped me so terribly that I turned around, sped home and got there right before he did. Another time I drove toward the city (San Francisco). That was silliness, I knew no-one there. I headed east a few more times, always turning back when I thought of the level of anger he would reach and what would happen when he finally found out where I was. I finally told my mom what was going on. She insisted I leave and go live with my aunt in southern California. I was there a week, then came back to him. Looking back, I can now see that I hadn't made the choice myself so I rebelled against it... even though it was the right thing to do.

I finally went and talked to my current ecclesiastic leader. I had no hope that he'd offer any positive suggestions or advice. All other religious leaders I'd spoken to had said, "go home, forgive and forget, marriage is forever and a bond you don't break." This leader asked me to open my scriptures and turn to 2 Timothy 3 and read with him. He said, "You are married to such a man. The scriptures say, "from such turn away." If you don't care about yourself, you need to get your children away from a man who would do such things to your family. I will help you." ...and he did. I was stunned. He was the first such religious leader who was willing to say out loud that a husband shouldn't and doesn't have a right to treat a spouse and children as possessions or in violent, bizarre and emotionally, cruel ways. It was the first time in eight years that I felt hope.

I filed for divorce on my own; no lawyer. I stood up for myself and asked him to leave. He didn't fight me, said he could do better without me and didn't need me. I was 26 and my children were only 7, 5 1/2 and 3. I applied for welfare and stayed home with them instead of having them lose both parents. When I went to the state welfare office, I made sure my children were clean, well cared for and polite. I was glared at, I assume because I was white and my kids were not filthy and out of line. They clung closely to me.

Most of the women there were of minority descent. If I pushed it I could pull the "hispanic" card since my mom's family are of Minorcan descent, but I didn't. I could have pulled the "Native American" card because my children are part Cherokee through their father, but no one would guess it to look at us, so I did neither. All of the women who came before and after me were in and out before we were. When we finally were called in, the worker questioned me about leaving a job at a medical center and applying for welfare. I told her our situation and that my children were too small to be left on their own and she still seemed to have a problem with me being a mom rather than going into the work force.

Time passed and he told me he'd "repented" and was a changed man. I remarried him. We were married again for only a few months when the emotional abuse began again, followed in turn by more physical abuse. My shame was incomprehensible. I'd walked willingly back into this. I wanted to believe him, I prayed about it and believed I'd been told to remarry. We had two more children that are wonderful individuals, so... if for no other reason, remarrying was worth it! The joy they bring outweighs anything else that happened from remarrying but I do regret all five of our chidren being exposed to the fear and pain that were our reality for many years.

When the emotional, sexual, social and physical violence got to where it interfered with my sleep patterns, destroyed my health, family relationships and destroyed mine and my children's self-esteem, it also became distinctly apparent to others. A dear friend and co-worker came to me and said, "Spill it, what's going on? ...dark circles under your eyes, you jump out of your skin when anyone walks in the door, struggling at work, tell me." When I told her what my life was like she told me her own experience of escaping domestic violence. She took me to lunch so we could talk in private. Two police officers ended up sitting by us on their lunch break. What are the chances of that? Because the opportunity had so clearly presented itself, I asked them if my experiences were considered criminal or were okay because I was married. They assured me they were criminal and asked me to go to the police department and talk to their domestic violence Victim's Advocate. They gave me her phone number. My friend loaned me her car and I went, shaking the whole way.

I nearly backed out a zillion times, terrified of the repercussions of talking to the police, but my friend assured me that I didn't have to press charges, and that I could just talk to them... get their views, file a report so the behavior would at least be documented... ANYTHING... just "GO talk to them." I did.