We are not naming the local author of this essay to protect her and her family.
October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. If you or someone you know is struggling, the Pima County Public Library has put together a list of local and national resources to find help.
"He doesn’t hit me."
"I have to stay for the kids."
"What will I do for money?"
"It’s not that bad."
"He was raised this way, it’s not his fault."
"I can change him."
"Things are bad at work, I’ll wait."
"Mom put up with this, maybe I can too."
These were the messages in my mind.
When he ignored me, I let him. When he called me pathetic, I believed it. When he told me to shut up, I did. When he was rude to our children, I just watched. I mastered the art of walking tightrope above a sea of landmines. I sadly, also mastered the skill of comforting my children when one was triggered. I lived like this for more than 20 years.
They were only words, only looks, only a neglect, an anger, a power so thick that you could barely breathe — and at times thought maybe it would be best not to. There were no hits, kicks, slaps, punches, or sexual assault and therefore, there were no bruises, cuts, swelling, or bloodshed.
What was present in the ups and downs of more than 250 months was a silent hardening, withering, and shrinking of my spirit. What is worst is that this experience was mine to weather alone. I did not want others to know what was happening at home, what I allowed to be said and how I allowed myself to be treated. Just as I became a champion tight-rope walker, I also became an actress supreme. I lived multiple lives, happy momma at parent pick up, dutiful wife at the Christmas party, funny pal with my best girlfriends, pleasant daughter with a smile and successful woman with no challenge too great. I lived in a home of fear and sadness, and I lived in an outside world that had no clue who I really was. Do you have any idea how debilitating and exhausting this is?
No matter the type of abuse, the bottom line is that in an abusive relationship, a woman — 85 percent of all cases of reported domestic violence are against women — becomes afraid of her partner and changes the way she behaves to make him happy and be safe. Verbal abuse is a brilliant form of abuse — it is invisible and confusing for a woman to identify as it’s not what we are taught to know as “real” abuse and it is not taken seriously. The manipulation is so magnificent that I once learned that it takes the average abused woman 17 interventions to leave her abuser and I did not even see myself in those numbers. I remember many of my 17 and I did not budge an inch.
Each of the more than 7,500 days I lived complicit in my relationship, I put away my fierce, beautiful, strong, smart, and powerful self. What angers me most is that I know my story is just one of millions in just the United States. Millions of fierce, beautiful, strong, smart, and powerful women are also tucked away, keeping their secret. We are invisible to each other and we are invisible to you. In fact, our homes and communities are bursting silently as one in every four women will experience domestic violence in her lifetime. I meet women — who just like me — you never would have suspected would be in a relationship filled with emotional, verbal, financial abuse and neglect. You also would have never suspected our partners were abusers.
Abusers not only deprive one life of reaching its full potential, but millions more. Awash in the waves of abuse are children, extended families, communities, and entire countries. It is absolutely unacceptable that one sick man has the ability to hinder and warp an innumerable set of futures and destinies.
While I am enraged by the fact that one man can create this destruction, I know that when one woman gains her freedom, she shifts the tide. I am just one woman that finally said, “I don’t love you anymore and you can’t treat me like this. This is not what I want. This is not what I deserve. I get one life and I will not let you limit me and the person I know I am here to be."
When I left, I not only resurrected my true self, I rescued my children and I transformed my community. My sidelined self, like a tiny, fragile, yet unwavering flame has become a flamethrower. Life outside of domestic abuse is amazing. I am free to be whole and every unapologetic part of me. I can love and be loved. In my new relationship I enjoy a level of intimacy and support that not even the best chick-flick or romance novel could ever capture. I get to be the mom I want to be, and because I left while my sweet babies were young, I know that my daughter will not choose to be with a man like her father and my son will not become him. With my courage and determination I have changed generations to come of my family, I have inspired other women, and I work each day to uplift and serve my community.
When I get angry, I mean rage-filled, someone-get-me-a-punching-bag angry and I think, “How dare you!?” “How could you?” “Why!?” I take the time to let out the pain and then think, “look at the woman you are because of what you endured. Look at the gifts you can now share with others.”
I am so grateful for the perspective that abuse gave me. When I have a tough conversation, make a difficult decision, or take a big risk, nothing compares to the ferocity and courage it took to leave my abuser. When I look at new challenges, I know I’ve been through worse. The 181,000 hours spent in my old life, were my investment in what I know will be the most amazing and rewarding potential next 50 years, 600 months, 18,250 days, and 438,000 hours to come. The best part, they are all mine.
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