Nightmares

I am keeping this post anonymous but it is a true story written by a survivor in her own words. She is a wonderful, strong woman who I've had the pleasure of meeting and talking to through an online support group.

XOXOXO,

Lavender 

This is my nightmare......

It started when i was about 15. I met  him through a friend. His eyes sparkled and his smile radiated. He wasn't that great looking, but to me he was beautiful. We met and it was  instant love. I felt whole around him. I felt alive. He was into a lot of bad things but I was young and just wanted him to be happy and love me the way I loved him. I followed him everywhere he went and stood beside him what ever he did. By 16 years old I was running drugs with him. The same years I began being his partner in crime I was arrested. I was sent to rehab for 8 months to get out of trouble I was in getting caught with a lot of marijuana. Needless to say he left me when I was 17, still in the rehab. I shed more tears in a week that I have ever shed in my life up to this point. I lost what I thought was my best friend, my love, my soul mate. I know it's silly looking back now but at 15,16, 17 years old we all feel like every boyfriend he had was the one. I got out of the rehab and was sent to a group home. While I was there I got back in contact with him. The feelings came rushing back and hit my heart like a rip tide. He would make promises to come seen me and to take me away. He swore he would save me as soon as I turned 18 and we would never be apart. My foster father forbid me from speaking to him. My foster parents were not very happy with the fact after every call, every chat online, after every e-mail I would rush to my room and cry non stop. I didn't under stand why he would make these empty promises. If I only knew what I know now.....

Fast forward one failed marriage and a beautiful daughter later. I got a phone call from a strange number. I knew who it was the moment I heard him say "well hello there". My heart hit the floor right beside my jaw. This call began a horrid chapter in my life. We began to speak to each other every couple of days. Soon after I first heard from him I moved back to FL. I decided to go see him and his family the same day I got to FL. I couldn't wait to see the man he had turned into. I arrived at his mother's home. I lost my heart again that day. He stole it right out of my chest. He played with my daughter , we talked of old times , and about the stupid things we did as children. I was trapped before I even knew it. He was almost exactly how I remembered him, but for some reason he seemed even more beautiful then he did when we were growing up together. We moved in together shortly after my arrival. He was staying with his mother and step father- he had just got out of jail serving a 8 month sentence for all sorts of crimes.  Everything was great for awhile. ( I wish I had known about red flags back then)

One day I made him mad over something so small I really don't remember what it was. He began throwing my belongings out of a window along with my 2 year old daughter's bed and toys. I begged him to stop. I still remember watching him throw the items out the window. I looked at him and for a split second I thought to myself to run. Alas, I did not. This would prove to be the worst mistake of my life. I calmly walked up to him and touched his arm and asked him to stop. He jerked around and slapped me across the face and pushed me down onto a metal doll stroller, my stomach landing right in the handle. I was in shock. I crawled my way over to the closet and pulled myself inside, cowering into the tiny corner. I couldn't scream, I couldn't cry I was just frozen. He then made his way to the closet sitting on the floor and began to cry begging me for forgiveness. Only then did the tears find their way down my red cheeks.He said he was sorry and  it would never ever happen again.

I almost immediately  began cramping and running a fever. Two days later I woke to find myself bleeding heavily and in the worst pain I had ever felt physically.  He refused to take me to the er. I  was rushed to the hospital by his mother only to find I was losing a child I had no idea I was even pregnant with.  His mother told him the news and he simply replied "OK". The doctors began asking questions "Is there a history of domestic violence in your home?" I didn't reply for what seemed like 5 mins. Then slowly I said no. "have you suffered any physical trauma in the last week? Have you fallen or been under a lot of stress?" I couldn't speak. I only shook my head no. I was taken care of and released. I knew what he had done.  I went home to him and layed on the couch for 5 days drugged out of my mind, in such physical pain and mental turmoil. We never once discussed what had happened. After I recovered we went along with life like it had never happened. I held a grudge knowing he had murdered a innocent soul that would never be able to grace us with it's presence due to his lack of control.

The abuse continued for sometime... escalating  slowly at first. It was name calling played off as a joke. Covertly controlling my money, making comments about my friends he didn't like me speaking with, going with me every place I would go and listening to my phone conversations. Eventually we moved into our own place. This is where I almost met my end.

The physical abuse escalated to a point where I was in fear everyday. I woke up extra early to get my daughter to school early, so I would have extra time during the day to clean up the mess he had made the night before with his drinking and  druggin with all his buddies.  Dinner had to be ready at 6pm sharp, house cleaned, cloths layed out for his shower,laundry done, my hair and make up done and dressed correctly. If something was out of order I knew my head would be slammed into the wall when he walked in the door.

He would hit me for any small reason. Bitch was my name. For awhile I thought no one knew my God given name, he and his friends would call me bitch. So many nights I was thrown into walls, had my head slammed into them or into the floor. I was thrown across rooms. As if I could fly I sailed from one side to the other never touching the ground. He like to tear on my clothing with his bare hands. Cut up my boots and shoes with no second thought. I remember one time I was on my knees rocking my then 2 year old little girl back and forth crying in her poor little ear. He hovered over us screaming at me to stop crying like a baby as he broke my collection of dolphins and snow globes one by one, taunting me the whole way. I remember his words as if he's speaking to me now. "Who bought this one for you-oh that's right your fucking dead great grandmother left these for you when the hag died". "oh your mom got this for you when you graduated high school -right? answer me bitch" slam. shatter. Tears.

The police were called when the neighbors would hear me scream. i always covered for him using one excuse or another. the pit bull we owned had attacked my favorite cat. I fell down the steps - tha'ts how I broke the vertebra in my back- i fall down these damn steps a lot. I finally got to the point when the police would come I would tell them I wanted to leave , but he never ever put a hand on me- he would never do such a thing! (HA) I would leave for the night , but in the morning I was told to return home. I did as I was told. I was a good girl. I always did what I was told.

Eventually I received permission to speak to one of my friends. This did not turn out well in the long run. I would call her over to collect my daughter when I knew i was going to receive a beating. She would also come over and clean my wounds and help clean the house up after a fight. He would sit on the couch  drinking his beer, smoking his pot, and enjoy the dinner I cooked for him, as my friend and I would clean in dead un- nerving  silence, or his favorite- acting like nothing had happened. He grew mad after awhile I had such a friend so he tried to attack her as well, he threw gatorade bottles at her head. Eventually he cut me off from her. She had become a liability to him.

He left me often, normally on fridays, when he would get paid. He would return on Mondays claiming he wanted to work things out for the better. False promises of no more abuse, counseling and anger management were a regular.

I found out I was pregnant. Stupidly I thought this would make him stop. We never did anything to control pregnancy. In the back of my mind I always wanted to secretly get birth control but I was to frighten he would find out. He wanted a child, a son, more then anything in the world. A little "mini me" as he would say. He left me when I was three months along only to return because he though I had a black man in my house I was sleeping with. He is and was totally against white people and black being together. Really he is against anything but whites with whites. He came back to our home smelled as if he had been drinking all day. He threw me around the house. Threw me stomach first into a chair choked me and slammed me into the couch. he kicked me square in my butt while I was on the floor. I was in serious fear for my life. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. He grabbed it from me cutting his hand and put the knife to my throat threatening to end my life and the life of his unborn child. there was no fear in this demon that had replaced my lover, my friend, my soul mate, my life. . The once beautiful eyes I adored had become cold and black. this was the first time I had really looked at his eyes in months. I shook with fear. I was scared to the point i urinated on myself.  Oddly enough I think pissing on myself saved my life. He let go of me and I ran to the bathroom with my cell phone I had recovered from him and dialed 911. He managed to call my mother and tell her he had finally got me. She thought I was dead. he hung up and called 911 and told them I had stabbed him unprovoked. Needless to say I was on the phone with 911 screaming he's going to kill me he has a gun. The 9 mil was hidden in a stolen trailer in the front yard where he now stood. The police came and arrested me. My first ever time in trouble. Aggravated battery with a deadly weapon. ! to 5 in the pen. i was in jail for about 24 hours. I was in a cage but I was so free. i did not shed one single tear. i ate  what was a damn good meal to me, my first meal free. I knew this was it, there was no going back.... or so I thought.

i was released with a no contact order. I moved; I got all my belongings from the home we shared. the home I had so many dreams focused on. I held my belly and spoke to my unborn child asking for his forgiveness for not leaving sooner. I held my little girls hand and we walked away. I looked back only once, long enough to see the tears streaming down his face... I look for what seemed to be a lifetime and I simply smiled and shot him the bird.

The next few months proved to be very difficult for me. My belly was growing bigger, but my heart shrank up and died. I lost 30 pounds, I was facing years in prison, losing both my children, I couldn't eat, I couldn't focus, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. In time the charges against me where dropped. I could breathe again, but only for a moment. I made a dumb mistake I can never ever take back. I called him the day the no contact order was lifted.  He spoke to me so kindly, asking for forgiveness and he had seen the error of his ways. Like a fool I believed him. We started visiting each other. Things seemed different. He held doors open for me, he held my hand, he cried with me, he laughed with me and he made me feel that same feeling I had felt so many years ago at the tender age of 15. I moved back in with him when I was about 7 months along with my beautiful little boy.

Needless to say things changed again. The abuse started again. He made me do thing I didn't want to do. He took away all my friends, turned my family against me, took over my money, called me fat everyday... I was 8 months pregnant! The only thing he wasn't doing was hitting me. We got into a huge fight Sept 5th. I begain having contractions as he was throwing things around the house. I told him I thought I was going into labor and he called me a liar. I begged him to take me to the hospital. he refused and told me he wasn't going to waste his time doing shit for me. I grabbed my keys and jumped into my car. I knew something wasn't right. I had went into labor when I was 6 months and was on the pills to stop it, along with shots to prolong the birth.  The contractions were coming to fast, to strong, I couldn't drive. I knew if I called 911 to come get me I would be in for it later. I called him from inside my car and begged him. He still refused. It took 3 of his drinking buddies to convince him to take me. Even they, at this point , said he was taking things to a level that was out of control. I was in the hospital for 3 days waiting for my baby to come. There were complications and bumps the entire 3 days. he complained about being there... left me alone for hours to go have a drink and to get high. On Sept 8th 2011 I welcomed my 8pnd 3oz bruised purple faced little boy. He didn't cry at first.. I stopped breathing and my ex stood there with a shocked look. He then reached into his pocket to pick up with vibrating cell phone "hello? oh man I can't deliver it to you now, how much did you want? a quarter? ( for those of you who don't know this a amount of marijuana) well my son was just born like literally... I haven't even cut the cord yet, hes not crying so these people r doing something to him, ill call you back in about ten mins" I heard my son cry and my ex cut the cord. After everything was said and done my ex kissed me goodbye and went to smoke a cigg.... he returned 3 hours later with his drunk buddy and I knew something was wrong. He had gotten a written arrest for driving my car with a suspended dl and a pot pipe in my car.....

Almost as soon as we got home the physical violence picked back up to it's normal. Kinda like a dog that pissed on the floor I was pulled through the house by my hair and shown what I forgot to do or something I didn't clean as well as he like. I had my face shoved into the corner I forgot to scrub. I was pulled around choked...beatings with no mercy what so ever. Of course this was all my fault, if i would have just done what I was told he wouldn't have to do this to me. He loved me, he wanted to make me his wife. We were going to live happily ever after if i could just get it right (*note my sarcasm)

He came home from work one very faithful day, pissed beyond belief because I had changed some plans. I was being a whore and a slut not to mention a bitch. I sat on the couch holding my son as he threw my cloths out the door. I wasn't fighting him today, i didn't have the energy to fight today. I thought i was safe at least for the moment, from the beating I knew I would get. He was extra pissed today. I picked myself off the couch walked grabbed my keys and phone and started to walk out the front door. Thank God almighty that my daughter was visiting her father this day. He grabbed me and threw me to the floor with my baby in my arms. Something clicked in my soul that moment I had seen my 2 month old on the floor. enough was enough. Hell's fury I know, was beaming from my eyes. laying on the floor I kicked that asshole right between the eyes and grabbed my son and ran for a side door. He was too quick grabbed me and threw me to the bed. pounding into the back of my head, jumping on me, hitting my baby in the forehead.. Stealing my newborn from my safe protective arms, he layed my son next to me and began to beat my face into the bed holding it down trying to smother me....( honestly I didn't remember the choking til just recently I think I blocked it out.)  I fought for my life. I would manage a quick breath only to get it knock out of my when my head would slammed to the wall next to our bed. Again and again and again. My quick breathing kept me from seeing the blackness. I fought hard not to black out. This was my life on the line, this was my sons life. God knows what he would have done if i let myself slip into the darkness that was slowing creeping up on me. he held my arms down, crossed my legs and he even at one point tried to kiss me... uh wtf ? I managed to break free... that was GOD. I know that for a fact. I grabbed my baby and ran for the back door... opened it got to the first step... freedom. . . run- run as fast as you have ever ran... i stepped for the second step only to feel the tug on the back of my shirt. I hear my favorite yellow and white spaghetti strap  shirt rip down the back.... oh shit.

I was pulled inside and  thrown into the back bedroom door. I was pinned. I remember hoping he didn't have enough time to grab the 25 from the closet. he once again pryed my son from my arms and raised his foot to stomp my face. I looked him dead in the eyes. yes, I refused to go out with out looking into the devils eyes. I told him I'm not scared anymore and covered my head... he froze. he picked me up threw me into the bathroom ripping my shirt totally off and gave me my son back.  he kept us locked in there for 15 mins maybe 30; time stood still for me as i sat topless on the toilet holding my screaming son. i convinced him i wouldn't tell i wouldn't call the cops.... he finally let us out and he left. he left for almost 2 weeks, left me with no diapers, no food, no money, he stole my last 130 bucks in effort to keep me from leaving.. I begged him for the 2 weeks to bring me diapers n what not. he refused.

I was done. I waited about a week or so til i thought things were cooled off and I for sure knew his whereabouts. I had a yard sale and sold everything I have, everything my kids had... I packed up my altima and drove away. I got a PO on him and now we are fighting it out with custody and all the odds n ins that go with that.

I am free now. I still have nightmares, I can't sleep in my bed. I still watch everywhere I go. I keep my alarm on even when I'm home. I catch myself seeing him when he isn't really there. I hear his voice in the back of my mind telling me I'll never make it. I feel alone alot. I feel quilt and shame. I'm just like everyone else that has been abused. I'll tell you this much, my friends, my sisters and brothers.. I AM FREE  I'M ALIVE AND THANK GOD ALMIGHTY SO ARE MY CHILDREN. I will never make the same mistake. i will never risk my life or the lives of my children ever again. You live and you learn, you grow and you become stronger.

For those of you still in a abusive relationship please please get out as soon as you can. I'm a living (thank god) testimony that these people do not change. it only gets worse. This isn't even my whole story these are just tidbits of the every day hell I lived for so many years.

Thank you all for taking the time to read my novel lol. It is time for me to let it all out. My wings are no longer tied up... I cut the strings away and it is time for me to soar...

A Poem - It Coulda Been Me

A poem several people have shared. It was found on the internet by a friend of mine who shared it w/me and others. I have no idea who wrote it, but it's beautiful. Please, if anyone knows who wrote it, let me know. I'd like to give credit where credit is due. This poem sums up domestic violence so well and brings a powerful message with it so it can't be ignored. Survivors and victims alike can relate to the woman in the poem, and others can see it from a victim's point of view.

Thanks and enjoy.

XOXOXO,

Lavender Skye                                                                                                                                        

It Coulda Been me....

I got flowers today
It wasn't my birthday or any other special day.
Last night we had a fight and he hit me,
But I know he is sorry
Cause I got flowers today

I got flowers today
It wasn't our anniversary or any other special day.
Last night he threw me against the wall and started to choke me,
But I know he's sorry,
Cause I got flowers today

I got flowers today
It wasn't Mothers day or any other special day
I was so swollen and bruised I was ashamed to answer the door
But I know he's sorry,
Cause I got flowers today

If I leave him, where will I go?
What about money? what about my kids?
It's getting worse every time but I'm afraid to leave
But I know he's sorry
Cause I got flowers today

I got flowers today
My family and friends filed by to see me
Asking why I never left him,
If I only had the strength and courage to, but I didn't
So I got Flowers today

Darkness Unveiled: The world of domestic violence: Children and Domestic Violence

Darkness Unveiled: The world of domestic violence: Children and Domestic Violence: Lately it seems like I'm hearing a lot about children who live in violent homes and how this affects them. This is one of the most "unspoke...

Children and Domestic Violence

Lately it seems like I'm hearing a lot about children who live in violent homes and how this affects them. This is one of the most "unspoken" (as if there weren't enough already) areas of domestic violence. Children, whether or not they are abused themselves, are still affected in a myriad of ways when witnessing domestic violence. In my opinion making or even letting a child witness domestic violence should be considered a form of child abuse because it is so detrimental to a child psychological well being. Some of the effects are as follows (http://www.unicef.org/protection/files/BehindClosedDoors.pdf)

Children are more likely to be victims of child abuse

Among victims of child abuse, 40 per cent report domestic violence in the home. One study in North America found that children who were exposed to violence in the home were 15 times more likely to be physically and/or sexually assaulted than the national average.

Significant harm to a "child's physical, emotional, and social development"

Small children exposed to domestic violence experience so much added emotional stress that it can harm the development of their brains and impair cognitive and sensory growth. Behavior changes can include excessive irritability, sleep problems, emotional distress, fear of being alone, immature behavior, and problems with toilet training and language development. Personality and behavioral problems among children exposed to violence in the home include a higher risk of developing depression, anxiety, and other psychological disorders as well as having higher incidents of substance abuse, juvenile pregnancy and juvenile delinquency than those raised in homes without violence.

Some studies suggest social development is also damaged. Some children lose the ability to feel empathy for others, feel socially isolated, are unable to make friends as easily due to social discomfort or confusion over what is acceptable. Many studies have noted that children from violent homes exhibit signs of more aggressive behavior, such as bullying, and are up to three times more likely to be involved in fighting. In addition to these effects, children are at risk of getting hurt themselves if and when they try to protect the victim. Many children who
are present during acts of domestic violence try to help. One study showed that in 15 per cent of the cases when children were present, they tried to prevent the violence, and 6 per cent tried to get outside help. Another 10 per cent actively tried to protect the victim or make the violence stop.

Some important statistics from The Alabama Coalition Against Domestic Violence http://www.acadv.org/children.html

• Each year an estimated 3.3 million children are exposed to violence against their mothers or female caretakers by family members. (American Psychological Association, Violence and the Family: Report of the APA Presidential Task Force on Violence and the Family,1996)
• Studies show that child abuse occurs in 30 to 60 percent of family violence cases that involve families with children. (J.L. Edleson, "The overlap between child maltreatment and woman battering." Violence Against Women, February, 1999.)
• A survey of 6,000 American families found that 50 percent of men who assault their wives, also abuse their children. (Pagelow, "The Forgotten Victims: Children of Domestic Violence," 1989)
• Research shows that 80 to 90 percent of children living in homes where there is domestic violence are aware of the violence. (Pagelow, "Effects of Domestic Violence on Children," Mediation Quarterly, 1990)
• A number one predictor of child abuse is woman abuse. (Stark and Flitcraft, "Women at Risk: A Feminist Perspective on Child Abuse," International Journal of Health Services, 1988)
• The more severe the abuse of the mother, the worse the child abuse. (Bowker, Arbitell, and McFerron, "On the Relationship Between Wife Beating and Child Abuse," Perspectives on Wife Abuse, 1988)
• Some 80 percent of child fatilities within the family are attributable to fathers or father surrogates. (Bergman, Larsen and Mueller, "Changing Spectrum of Serious Child Abuse," Pediatrics, 1986)
• In families where the mother is assaulted by the father, daughters are at risk of sexual abuse 6.51 times greater than girls in non-abusive families (Bowker, Arbitell and McFerron, 1988)
• A child's exposure to the father abusing the mother is the strongest risk fact for transmitting violent behavior from one generation to the next (American Psychological Association, Violence and the Family: Report of the APA Presidential Task Force on Violence and the Family,1996)
• Male children who witness the abuse of mothers by fathers are more likely to become men who batter in adulthood than those male children from homes free of violence (Rosenbaum and O'Leary, "Children: The Unintended Victims of Marital Violence," American Journal of Orthopsychiatry, 1981)
• Older children are frequently assaulted when they intervene to defend or protect their mothers. (Hilberman and Munson, "Sixty Battered Women," Victimology: An International Journal, 1977-78)
• In a 36-month study of 146 children, ages 11-17 who came from homes where there was domestic violence, all sons over the age of 14 attempted to protect their mothers from attacks. Some 62 percent were injured in the process. (Roy, 1988)

So what does all this mean?

This means we all, as a society, not only need to break the silence and raise awareness for domestic violence because of the adult victims but also for the children involved. Domestic violence is an epidemic with 1 in 4 women and 1 in 11 men being victims at some point. Now, think of their children. All the children who witness the violence and who get caught up in the middle and get hurt because they're either trying to protect their mothers (or fathers) or they're in the wrong place at the wrong time. I still remember the day my parents got into an argument, and my dad threw a glass from the kitchen at my mom in the family room. Instead of it hitting my mom, the glass hit one of my sisters in the forehead; the next day, while at the babysitter's, my sister pushed another boy off a table because she was mad about what had happened the day before. How's that for physical and social effects? Plus, she still has a scar to prove it and it happened about 24 yrs ago. Also, I went after my dad when I was in high school because he was beating on my mom, and I would rather have him hit me and he did. I've seen children who have witnessed domestic violence freeze up when someone yells. I'm still afraid of men when they get mad. 

Children who grow up in violent homes are likely to continue the cycle of violence by becoming abusers themselves (mostly boys) or becoming involved in abusive relationships (mostly girls) because that is how they are raised and anything else seems abnormal and scary. It is incredibly difficult to grow up trusting people and feeling worthy and safe when a child grows up in such an unpredictable and volatile environment. The longer we choose to ignore domestic violence, the longer we will have victims and future abuse. And don't forget the above statistics - 50% of men who abuse their wives also abuse their children. In other words, if we want to stop child abuse we must address spousal abuse as well and get these children and women to safer environments and away from the abuse, preferably together. We owe it not only to domestic violence victims, but to their children as well.

XOXOXO,

Lavender

Domestic Violence Myths & Facts

Domestic violence is a very real danger to thousands of women AND men. 1 in 4 women and 1 in 11 men are victims of domestic violence in their lifetimes. This is a very high ratio that shocked even me. Its a silent crime b/c no one talks about it or wants to "get involved." It is NOT "between them" or a "family problem." It is a societal problem. It not only affects the victim but her family, friends, and neighbors as well as random people who may witness the violence if/when it happens out in public. I have personally witnessed a man push his girlfriend or wife and then chase her down the street and grab her, yelling at her. I don't remember how old I was but I was probably in late elementary or early middle school. I'd been a witness to domestic violence before but never b/w someone other than my parents and even that never happened in public. Looking back I should've called the police, and I had thought about it but didn't. There was also an incident a few years ago my friend saw after going to my car to wait for me to finish shopping at the mall. She told me she saw a man hit his girlfriend in the next car. They were arguing  when it happened, and she thought about calling the police but the couple got out of the car and left before she could. Domestic violence is all around us, but we choose to be blind to it. We make excuses such as "they look like they made up" or  "maybe it was an accident." And the whole "I fell down the stairs excuse" is probably the most commonly overused cover up a victim can use because people still believe it. After all, how many of us have never tripped or fallen a set of stairs at some point?                                                                                                                            

                                                                                                                                                  

Makeup, long sleeves, long pants, sunglasses all hide the marks and bruises. Think about a woman who wears a sweater  when its too hot. She's probably hiding something. It's one thing to carry a sweater in case she gets cold inside a restaurant, etc (I used to all the time and still do most times) but quite another to be wearing it in warm weather. I know I used to  worry about wearing spaghetti strap tops after my dad left bruises on my arms. I only wore them in hopes someone would notice but no one ever did or, if they did, never asked about them. Even it the sweater isn't hiding bruises it could be hiding something else. I remember wearing a zip up sweatshirt over a really pretty tube top on one warm summer day to "surprise" my boyfriend/ex fiance at the time by going up to his place of work near the time he got off work. Well , normally I would've worn the tube top w/out a coverup both b/c of how warm it was and because it looked really good on me, but I had been told by my boyfriend to never wear it without him after he bought it for me. He didn't want other men looking at me unless he was around and that top would definitely draw attention. And so I wore the sweatshirt to "hide" my body and still got in trouble b/c I had worn it out; it didn't matter that it was only on the way to see him or that it was covered up. That's an example of "hiding" something other than bruises.

                                                                                                                                                      

Domestic violence is NOT an accident, a family problem, a "one time" incident, none of your business, or OK AT ALL. 

XOXOXO,

Lavender Skye 

                                                                                                                                                        

Following are a few domestic violence myths and the actual facts from http://www.bu.edu/police/prevention/domestic_violence_myth.htm.

Myth: When a couple is having a domestic violence problem, it is just that they have a bad relationship. Often, it's poor communication that is the problem.

Fact: Bad relationships do not result in or cause domestic violence. The idea that bad relationships cause violence in the home is one of the most common, and dangerous, misconceptions about domestic violence. First, it encourages all parties involved - including and especially the victim- to minimize the seriousness of the problem and focus their energies on "improving the relationship" in the false hope that this will stop the violence. It also allows the abuser to blame the bad relationship and the violence itself on the victim, rather than acknowledging his/her own responsibility.

More importantly, improving the relationship is not likely by itself to end the violence. Violence is learned behavior. Many couples have had bad relationships yet never become physically violent. Many batterers are violent in every one of their relationships, whether they consider them bad or good. The violent individual is the sole source and cause of the violence, and neither his/her partner nor their relationship should be held responsible.

Myth: Most domestic violence incidents are caused by alcohol or drug abuse.

Fact: Many people have alcohol and/or drug problems but are not violent, similarly, many batterers are not substance abusers. How people behave when they are "under the influence" of alcohol and/or drugs depends on a complex combination of personal, social, physical and emotional factors. And like many other types of behavior, alcohol or drug-affected behavior patterns are culturally learned.

It is often easier to blame an alcohol or drug abuse problem than to admit that you or your partner is violent even when sober. Episodes of problem drinking and incidents of domestic violence often occur separately and must be treated as two distinct issues. Neither alcoholism nor drugs can explain or excuse domestic violence.

Myth: Domestic violence is often triggered by stress, for example, the loss of a job or some financial or marital problem.

Fact: Daily life is full of frustration associated with money and work, our families and other personal relationships. Everyone experiences stress, and everyone responds to it differently.

Violence is a specific learned and chosen response to stress, whether real or imagined. Certainly, high general levels of domestic violence can be related to social problems such as unemployment, however, other reactions to such situations are equally possible. Some people take out their frustrations on themselves with drug or alcohol, some take it out on others with verbal or physical abuse.

Myth: Most domestic violence occurs in lower class or minority communities.

Fact: Domestic violence occurs at all levels of society, regardless of their social, economic, racial or cultural backgrounds.

Researchers and service providers have found, however, that economic and social factors can have a significant impact on how people respond to violent incidents and what kind of help they seek. Affluent people can usually afford private help - doctors, lawyers and counselors while people with fewer financial resources (i.e., those belonging to a lower economic class or a minority group) tend to call the police or other public agencies. These agencies are often the only available source of statistics on domestic violence, and consequently, lower class and minority communities tend to be overrepresented in those figures, creating a distorted image of the problem.

Myth: The victim did something to provoke the violence.

Fact: No one deserves to be beaten, battered, threatened or in any way victimized by violence. Batterers will rarely admit that they are the cause of the problem. In fact, putting the blame for the violence on the victim is a way to manipulate the victim and other people. Batterers will tell the victim, "You made me mad" or "You made me jealous" or will try to shift the burden by saying "Everyone acts like that." Most victims try to placate and please their abusive partners in order to deescalate the violence. The batterer chooses to abuse, and bears full responsibility for the violence.

Myth: Most batterers simply lose control during violent incidents and do not know what they're doing.

Fact: If batterers were truly out of control, as many claim to be during violent incidents, there would be many more domestic violence homicides. In fact, many batterers do "control" their violence, abusing their victims in less visible places on their bodies, such as under the hairline or on the torso. Furthermore, researchers have found that domestic violence often occurs in cycles, and every episode is preceded by a predictable, repeated pattern of behavior and decisions made by the batterer.

Myth: Men are victims of domestic violence as often as women, even if they aren't reported.

Fact: The bottom line is that domestic violence is a crime -- regardless of the gender of the abuser or the victim and regardless of whether it is a heterosexual or same-sex relationship. Data from the FBI and the Bureau of Justice Statistics show that 85% of victims of intimate partner violence (IPV) are women. Acknowledging this indisputable fact does not negate our concern for the men who comprise the remaining 15% of IPV victims.

Myth: Domestic violence is a less serious problem - less lethal - than "real" violence, like street crimes.

Fact: It is a terrible and unrecognized fact that for many people, home is the least safe place. Domestic violence accounts for a significant proportion of all serious crimes - aggravated assault, rape and homicide. Furthermore, when compared with stranger-to-stranger crime, rate of occurrence and levels of severity are still under reported for domestic violence.

Darkness Unveiled: The world of domestic violence: My Best Friend's Story

Darkness Unveiled: The world of domestic violence: My Best Friend's Story: This is my best friend's story. At the time of this relationship I was friends with her but not close friends. She emailed me this with ...

My Best Friend's Story

This is my best friend's story. At the time of this relationship I was friends with her but not close friends. She emailed me this with permission to post. I love her, and she is one of my heroes and like a sister.

Lavender Skye

I met him in between my freshman and sophomore year of college. He seemed to be everything I could possibly want in a guy. He was sweet and kind and attentive. We started out just talking for the first month of our relationship, trying to get to know one another better. By the end of the first month I was head over heels for him, and we were having regular make-out sessions. At the end of that first month he asked me out on our first date. We were supposed to go hiking up to these falls. Instead the car died, and a friend came and got us. She let us borrow her car so that we could still go on a date. He took me to Wal-Mart first, I know, very romantic. There he bought me a half a dozen orange roses because he saw me looking at them. Then we went to the movies, where we didn't really watch the movie, but made out the whole time. That was the first time he guilted me into doing something that I didn't want to do. He made me feel that I had to give him a blow job in order to prove that I had strong feelings for him. I felt that I had to, after all I loved him, and I didn't want to lose him.

School started back less than a month after our first date. He helped me move back into the dorms. My friend, Michael, came to help after moving himself in. After a very short time Michael informed me that I obviously didn't need his help and that he didn't feel welcome there. As soon as Michael left Mark told me that he didn't really like him, and that he got a bad feeling from him and he was glad that he left so that it could be just the two of us again. Mark also said that he didn't think that Michael was the sort of friend that I should have and maybe I could find friends that he actually liked. After Mark left, Michael informed me that he didn't like Mark, and that I could do better, but I just figured that it was jealousy on both of their parts because Michael was my friend first, and because Mark was my boyfriend and would take time away from Michael.

We talked every night, either on the phone or on messenger. If we didn't talk he would get upset and say that I must not really love him and want to be with him. I spent less and less time with my friends and more and more time locked up in my dorm room. I wasn't sleeping at night, and so I started not going to my classes so that I could get sleep. My grades started to suffer.

By my birthday in October he was my everything. My world revolved around him and our time together. On my birthday we finally made it for our hike to the falls, where he proposed to me. He explained that he couldn't afford a real engagement ring yet, and so we would have to use his class ring. I didn't care; I was just so thrilled to be able to say that I was going to be completely his for all time. That night we had sex because, as he put it, it didn't matter if I was saving myself for marriage, after all I was going to be marrying him, and in his heart we were already married, and didn't I feel the same way? Didn't I love him enough to trust that God knew our hearts and the vows that we made to each other? And who was more important, God or the government? So I caved on one of the issues that I had held most dear, and did with him what I had never done with another before.

By this time I was rarely going to church because it was one of the few days he had off, and wasn't he more important than going to some building to worship when I could just as easily worship on my own? After we got engaged I did not step foot in my church until after my son was born. I was so riddled with guilt and ashamed of myself for giving up what I believed was right, but once I had started having sex with him I found that I couldn't stop, even when I wanted to.

After we became engaged he became very critical of everything I did or said. He said that he was trying to help me become a better person by pointing out what needed to be worked on. He told me that the reason that I was doing poorly in school had nothing to do with the fact that I wasn't sleeping or couldn't concentrate or was unable to attend classes. The real reason that I was doing poorly was because I was stupid and couldn't understand the courses or the readings. He promised me he would never lie to me, so of course he must be right. I must not have understood anything to this point. I must actually be stupid, after all it made sense. Why else would I be failing every single class, including choir? And as for my friends, they were encouraging me to think more highly of myself than was possible. They didn't really know me, only he really knew me. We tried to hang out with my friends a few times, but it was always awkward, and afterward he would tell me which friends I should try to look like, and did I think they might be willing to do a three-way because they were much more sexy than me, and wouldn't I like that? There were two friends in particular that he had a thing for, Diane, who was one of my best friends up to that point, and Amber. He wanted me to look and act like Diane because in his mind she was the sexiest person ever, and he wanted me to dress like Amber, especially her shoes.

He also wanted to see how many places we could have sex on campus without being caught. I wasn't comfortable with this but didn't really see a way out of it. His favorite place to go was the music office. I later found out that the reason for this was because whenever I would go to the bathroom he would steal the money out of the money box. I didn't find out about it until months later and still feel guilty about it.

By the end of that semester I had completely failed out of college. I had struggled the previous year due to some choices that I had made but had brought my grades up my second semester, but there was no coming back after the last semester. By then I knew that what he was saying about me being stupid must be true; after all how do you possibly fail out of every single class, even choir?

I had tried to quit having sex with him several times at this point, but every time I would try he would just make me saying that he knew that I liked it, and why was I fighting it and him. Usually after a short time in my body would betray me, and he was right, I did like it. I felt more and more ashamed and less and less like being around the people who knew me before Mark came into my life. I had no friends, at least that is how it felt. I still had my family, kind of. I lived at home still, but on his days he stayed with me and we never left my bedroom. On the days he worked I was stuck at my house by myself, and at night I was expected to be home so that we could talk on the phone.

After failing out of college I got a job waitressing at night. On the nights that he didn't have to work the next day he would spend the whole night at my job, glaring at anyone who seemed too friendly, but he could be friendly and flirt with whoever he wanted to. Then he would take me back to my house and we would be locked away in my room unless he wanted to go to the movies or hiking or whatever he wanted to do. I was never out of his sight on the days that he had off. I just thought that that was proof of how much he loved me, after all he never wanted us to be parted. We coordinated our days off so that they could be spent together. On the nights that I had to work and he had to work the next day he would still expect me to be able to talk to him the majority of the night, or he would stop by my work if I didn't answer him like he thought he should to make sure I was there and that nothing funny was going on.

By mid-March I no longer had a job, and even though he said he was unhappy about it at first, he said that that just meant that we had more time to be together. It also meant that I no longer had any money of my own and was completely dependent on him for anything I might possibly want or need. If he decided that I didn't really need something I didn't get it. By this time I wasn't allowed to make any choices on my own, even when he would ask my opinion on something as simple as a movie he would tell me whatever I chose was the wrong choice and that I really wanted to watch something else. It got so that I didn't have the confidence to even attempt to make my own decisions. I was terrified of getting it wrong. I was terrified of life, and I was terrified of losing him, because without him, how was I supposed to know what was right or what to do?

Towards the end of May I got another job, this time as a cook at a pizza place. Within two weeks of starting there I was really sick. I couldn't hold any food down, and the smell of the pizza sauce would send me running to the nearest garbage can. I found out two days before Mark's 21^st birthday that I was pregnant. He was furious. The first words out of his mouth were “is it mine?” After me breaking down crying, he apologized and said that he knew it was his and that anyone getting a shock like that would ask the same question, after all I was on birth control. Then he started looking up statistics on how likely it was that it was a false positive.

After I found out I was pregnant I informed my employer, who decided I must have known before he hired me, and that I tricked him into hiring me by not telling him. He cut back my hours until I was only working eight hours a week and I put in my two weeks notice. So I was back to being completely dependent on Mark, except this time I was pregnant.

Mark informed me shortly after I found out that I was pregnant that he had never wanted children and that he had lied to me about us having any. The money that he told me he was saving up for my engagement ring was really to go over the border into Virginia and get a vasectomy because they didn't have all the rules over there about who can and cannot get one. He was then going to let me keep trying to get pregnant after we were married and let me think that there just must be something wrong and that we couldn't have children. He begged me on a daily basis to have an abortion. Once, after us fighting about it, he tried to jump out of the car that I was driving in order to kill himself because he said he'd rather be dead than have a child. My 17yr old brother was in the car and was able to restrain him, but he kept trying anyway. Once it was too late for an abortion he told me that I should give the baby up to his sister, that way I could still be in his life as an aunt, and it wouldn't ruin our relationship. I told him that I didn't want to be an aunt to our son-- that he was my baby and I already loved him. He attempted suicide again, but after that time promised he'd never try that again. He told me that after the baby was born, though, that he would take him up to the mountains sometime and then drive them both off a cliff in hopes that it would end both of their lives.

Once he realized that I was not going to get rid of our child no matter what things got worse. We would get into these horrible fights where he would tell me that I was making a huge mistake, and that I couldn't even take care of myself, how was I going to take care of a baby? He also said that I was so stupid that I would probably end up killing the baby anyway since I wouldn't know what to do.

When I was five months pregnant we flew to Orlando, FL. He prayed the whole time that we would crash so that the baby would die. While we were there he tried to get me to drink, in hopes that I would so that there might be something wrong with the baby and I'd give him away. He told everyone there that I was delusional and wasn't really pregnant and that if they saw me taking any pills they should stop me because I was on drugs. In that way I couldn't take my prenatal vitamins because no one believed that they were really prenatals.

I had such severe morning sickness until I was almost seven months pregnant that I couldn't even move without throwing up. It got so that I didn't go anywhere or do anything unless Mark made me. He was also mad about that. He believed that I was purposely getting sick to get out of doing whatever it was that he wanted to do. I lost thirty pounds, so obviously I must have been making myself sick. We had one fight where he grabbed my arm, shook me, and then when I started crying and telling him that he was hurting me he pushed me down. My brother witnessed the whole entire thing and said that he didn't want to get in the middle of it and didn't know what to do. He did yell at him though that he shouldn't treat me that way.

By this time Mark was staying out to all hours of the night and had started drinking, which he said that he would never do. We were looking for a place of our own so that we would have enough room for when the baby came. Whenever I would ask him where he had been he would either say that he had been out with the guys from work or that he was checking out apartments for us. I never really questioned him further because the fact that it didn't add up to me just proved how truly stupid I was; after all, he promised to never lie to me, and I trusted him, right? It didn't matter that my old roommate from college was dating one of his co-workers and that he said that they weren't all going out, after all, who was I going to believe, some guy, or my beloved fiance?

At six months pregnant I went to Jacksonville, FL for my uncle's surprise fortieth birthday party. Mark was mad that I was going. I told him that he was more than welcome to come too, after all he'd been invited to go. He refused to go saying that he was my family and why did I need to go, after all it was only my uncle. He wouldn't talk to me the whole time I was down there. When I got back from Florida he said that we needed to talk. By this time I was six and a half months pregnant. When he got to my house there was no one else there. My brother was at school, my sister was at work, and my mom was at the hospital with a friend who was in labor; she was her birthing coach. By this time we had been engaged a little over a year. He told me that he thought I should sit down, so I did. He then proceeded to tell me that I had chosen our child over him, and that he couldn't take it anymore. That I wasn't the same person he had started going out with because I was always too sick to do anything fun. That he didn't want to be a dad, and as long as I didn't tell anyone in his family that I was pregnant that he'd support us, but that if I told anyone he would make my life hell. He told me that pregnancy was of the devil, and that is why certain body parts changed color while pregnant, and so I must be a satanist, which he had told me before, but this time he was screaming it at me. He told me that there should be an exorcism performed on me because I was possessed, and that the baby was really a demon in disguise. He once again told me how much he did not want children and gave me one more chance to agree to give him up, but this was one issue that I wouldn't budge on. He then said that we were over and to never come near him again.

Three weeks later I went to his parent's house to give them their invitation to the baby shower. He had just told his parents the week before that we had broken up, and that I was a stalker, so they needed to be careful if I came around, and might even want to call the police because I was dangerous. He had never told them I was pregnant, and they didn't believe me until I showed them the ultrasound picture. His mom started crying and said that she didn't really believe him that I was dangerous, but he was so insistent. His dad offered to make him marry me. I told them that it was going to be okay and that I just wanted them to know that they were going to be grandparents, and to please let the rest of the family know, especially his sister. His mom, sister, and aunt all came to the baby shower, even though his sister lived more than five hours away.

When my son, Nicholas, was first born he tried to get back together. He asked me out on a date when my son was three days old. When I asked what I was to do about Nicholas he went into a jealous rage, grabbed my arm, and demanded to know who Nicholas was and how long I'd been seeing him. I started crying and reminded him that Nicholas was our son and told him there was no way I would go out with him, especially if he couldn't even remember that we had a child. He apologized and begged me to reconsider, but I had had enough.

Once we were broken up I thought it would finally stop, but it didn't. He tried to control me through my son once he was born. Anytime he would want something he would threaten me with taking me to court and getting custody. He actually tried to when my son was six months old but only got limited supervised visitation. He was getting him eight hours a week due to the fact that I was breastfeeding and the fact that he threatened to drive the both of them over a cliff. Once I was no longer breastfeeding and he had proven that he could be trusted with my son he started getting him more frequently, but then the abuse shifted.

Instead of saying things directly to me, he started using my son. My son had horrible night terrors where people were taking him away from me because his daddy told him that he was going to take him away and never let him see me again. Mark also would call me names in front of him, and Nicholas would come home bawling his eyes out telling me that I was a stupid bitch or that I was nothing but a whore. At the time of these my son was about 3yrs old. My son is now eight, and Mark still somewhat has a hold over me. I still generally give into what he wants because I'm terrified of him taking me to court and getting custody or even joint custody. He has money for a lawyer, and I most definitely do not. He has a “stable” two parent household; I'm a single mother. His wife and he have excellent jobs that they make a lot of money at; I'm a full time student. I know that these don't really make a big difference, but in my mind I'm still inferior. I still struggle with believing that I'm good enough and that the choices I make aren't constantly wrong. I still hear his voice in my head shouting “WRONG! God you're so stupid! How have you managed to live so long?!”

I'm stronger than I was, and I'm getting better every day, but I've still got a long way to go. For those who don't think that emotional abuse is abuse I'm here to tell you differently. It is just as damaging, if not more so. The effects are long reaching. I'm only just starting to not be terrified of life. Part of why I've come so far is because of my faith and my church family who love me and have encouraged me to be better than I've thought I am. Another part is having someone tell me on a nightly basis how truly wonderful I am and that I am worthy of love, and one of the smartest people they know. And the last, but not the least important, is my son. I want to be better for him. He doesn't see me like Mark saw me so I know I must not really be like that because he always sees the true person. I've recovered some of my friendships from college. However, most of them will never be the same as they were before, and I mourn the deaths of some of those friendships. I'm not the same girl I was. I don't hug men or generally allow men to hug me, even the guy I'm in a relationship with. I shy away from physical contact of any kind with males, whereas before I wouldn't hesitate to give any of my guy friends shoulder massages or touch their arm while talking. I'm also a lot more reserved and have a hard time trusting others. I hope my story can possibly help someone else out there going through something similar to this.

Emotional abuse is real. When you are in an emotionally abusive relationship it is hard to see that that is what is going on. It is only when you get out that you realize what has been happening. By then the damage has been done. If you have ever been in an abusive relationship you know what I'm writing to be true. Also you can't recover on your own. Seek out friends, talk to your family. Church can be a wonderful place to find supportive people who will love you regardless of what has happened and don't be ashamed to admit that you need help and to seek it out.

Darkness Unveiled: The world of domestic violence: Rachel's Story

Darkness Unveiled: The world of domestic violence: Rachel's Story: Rachel and David It started off as a relationship made in Heaven. A few days after we started going out he spouted I love you’s an...

Rachel's Story

This story is published w/the victim's permission. Names have been changed . This story is a  true      account of abuse and, as such, has some violence of a sexual nature.  

XOXOXO 

Lavender Skye                                                                                                                                        

Rachel and David

It started off as a relationship made in Heaven. A few days after we started going out he spouted I love you’s and I love you so much. I couldn’t believe someone had fallen in love with me that quickly. He was always holding, hugging and kissing me. He was so sweet that after a week I had fallen in love with him also. We had our first passionate kiss on our one week anniversary. I moved faster with him than any other guy I had ever been with. Soon I was letting him touch my breasts over then slowly it progressed to under my shirt. I remember we were in the movie theater as he was doing this and I was thinking this is okay as long as you don’t move your hand under my bra but he did. I thought it was okay because I ended up liking it. After a couple weeks the first red flag went up, but I didn’t see it because I was so in love with him.

After about a month he attempted suicide. Now this was a flag that he wasn’t in his right mind, but neither was I. The red flag I’m talking about is when he blamed my sister for his attempt. She had said he wasn’t right for me and he overheard it. He blamed her words for his attempt rather than the real issues he was having. That’s also the day I found out he was lying about some things, including the death of his brother’s girlfriend. I talked to him a few days later, and he said it was another girl with the same name but he didn’t know that until after he told me and never even admitted that until I confronted him.

I made up my mind to end it after his other brother told me a bunch of things he was supposedly lying. Then we talked and after our talk I decided not to end it because we got some stuff cleared up, and his brother admitted to lying about a few things. We were back to our happy relationship. We were supposed to go out on a really special date for Valentines’ Day, but my mom wouldn’t let me. He told me he was going to propose that night. We ended up getting officially engaged when he brought me a ring to work months later; I don’t really remember when. It wasn’t romantic as he just handed me the ring and told me it was an engagement ring, but I was thrilled anyway. This was only a few months after going out.

We were always together and holding each other. We were always making out, even in front of my family. About three months after going out we had sex. I didn’t really want to but didn’t know how to say no. He got mad when he found that out later. That same day he promised to always take care of me. I could go to college and he would work so I could focus on school. I found out later that was a lie. He ended up leaving that job and working somewhere else. Now he couldn’t do that. In April of that year we moved in together. I wanted to move out from my father so bad because he was abusive and I loved my new fiancé so much. What I didn’t know was that soon I would be living in a worse nightmare than I already was.

David couldn’t pay the bills so I had to move back in with my parents. He actually tried stealing money from his work, and I paid it back. I ended up taking care of him, lending him money, etc. He ended up homeless at the end of the summer, and I was paying for him to stay in a hotel when I could or letting him come over to shower and nap when my parents were at work. This went on until the end of August when he moved back up to Massachusetts. He told me his sister was in a coma in the hospital so he couldn’t wait for me to be able to come with him. He promised to come back for me the next week or two. While he was up there he emailed me every day. He told me about the inheritance he finally got from his mother and how he had a four bedroom two story house being built for us on a lake. I was so excited. I was going to be with my dream guy and own a house and have a family soon. At this time he had convinced me a doctor had told him I was pregnant so when I was supposed to go with my parents to drop my sister off at college I didn’t go. There’s a longer story to that I’m not ready to discuss

A week later when he was supposed to come for me he said he couldn’t because his sister was still in the hospital and was doing worse. I kept begging him to come get me because my home life was so bad now. I was suicidal and needed someone around who loved me. He eventually bought me a bus ticket and sent me some money to go on the long trip all by myself. When I got there he saw that I had brought my favorite stuffed tiger and was happy more about that than seeing me. We hugged and kissed and he told me how much he missed me. I was so relieved to see him. I was nervous the whole trip because I couldn’t get a hold of him and I’d lost his work number. I was so scared I’d end up there and he wouldn’t be there.

He brought me to a couple he was staying with and told me to lie about who I was to go along with what he had told them. He said he had a surprise for me and showed me a tattoo he got with my name. I was thrilled! He had previously told me he never believed in getting names of people tattooed on himself so I felt very special. He told me he did it to prove his love to me and that he wanted to be with me forever. But as soon as we got to his friends he went to work. He let me rest while he worked. As I was sleeping, though, his friend sexually assaulted me through unwanted fondling of my breasts and touching and manually penetrating my vagina. I was so scared. I didn’t know how to tell David.

We ended up moving for other reasons and hiding from his friends due to him breaking a promise with them. They were crazy, too, though. One day they were all friendly and the next hated us. I eventually told David what happened and he said I was lying. That’s when the relationship took the terrible turn. He started calling me a liar and said his friend, who he hadn’t seen in two years and hardly knew, would never do something like that. I felt so violated again. That’s when he started to falsely accuse me of cheating on him and saying he was cheating on me. He called me a slut, whore, bitch and cunt. A few months later he started hitting me. At first it was ‘accidental’, then it went into the “I’m sorry” stage and stayed there for awhile. I was so scared of leaving and never seeing him again. Besides he’d taken me from everyone I knew.

I could’ve called my parents, but I never thought of that. He kept getting worse and worse. He was cheating on me, calling me names, telling me I was ugly and pointing out girls to me saying he wanted to have sex with them and I need to look like them. One time we were having sex and he insisted on doing anal. We tried it before but it hurt so I didn’t want to. He turned me over and forced himself into me. All I could do is beg for him to stop and cry that he was hurting me. He didn’t care though. He never even apologized. To this day he insists he never did this to me.

We would have what I thought were heartfelt talks and he’d make promises, but then he’d never keep them. One day while I was working in the hotel we lived in he grabbed my hair and, threatening to throw my head in the furnace, attempted to drag me down to the basement. He would strangle me, punch me, and bite me. He would verbally and emotionally abuse me. He would constantly look me straight in the eyes and tell me “I don’t love you.” He even told me he was in love with an ex-girlfriend. I cried myself to sleep many nights and prayed for us to be able to go back to how we were. He would talk and flirt with other girls, especially at night on the computer. He’d never pay any attention to me; even during sex he wouldn’t touch me. It was all about pleasing him. I was so scared he’d rape me again if I didn’t have sex with him, and I was so desperate for him to touch me I’d try to have sex just for that. I ended up cheating on him because I was so desperate for attention. Plus, he was cheating on me so he deserved it, or so I thought.

He never cuddled anymore, never even hugged me. He would always sleep with his back facing me. A couple times he acted like his old self but most of the time he was this new monster. I was terrified of him and even started having nightmares of him killing me. He told me we were married, that he’d gotten it taken care of by taking our records down to town hall. I finally got a break when a marine Corps Recruiter came up to me and I was able to join the Marines. I did it so I could get away and have a place to go. During Boot camp he wrote me the most wonderful and apologetic letters. I fell in love with him all over again, so when I got leave we got married. I thought he was back to himself. Later I would find out how wrong I was.

He was a great guy until I went away to training. At the beginning of the training I spoke with him all the time until I had to go out to the field. Then one time he told me he had no interest in talking to me even though we hadn’t spoken in two weeks. I cried at him saying that. I called him a few days later because I heard he was having chest pain. He apologized and said he was upset. I later found out he was talking to another girl for several hours every night. He still hasn’t told me what they were talking about.

Upon completion of the training he went to MOS School with me. We got along great. He’d always come to see me, and he even got a job so I wasn’t paying for everything. One night when I went out with a group of friends one of them raped me, and David never believed me about that either. Once again he was back to his old self, but after that school I took him to my next school with me. When I got to the next school he started accusing me of cheating on him with everyone again and said our baby I was pregnant with wasn’t his. We argued constantly. One of the guys that had come from the other school also said my husband was very disrespectful to me and I didn’t deserve that. When I told David he accused me of sleeping with that guy.

I eventually got assigned to the station, and we got housing. He still beat me and even beat me in the stomach telling me he was going to kill the baby. I should’ve left him, but I was scared to leave. Even after the baby was born he continued to beat me and call me names. At some point I started fighting him back because I had had enough. So now it was both of us hitting each other. He acted like the victim at one point saying I was the abusive one, even convincing the base it was all me. After the military this went on for years.

Eventually we had another daughter, which he also accused me of having another affair and the baby not being his. This time while I was pregnant he was always working and yelling at me about the room we were staying in being a mess. I was exhausted I told him. I was pregnant and constantly caring for our two year old with not one single break. Eventually my mom started to help me so I got a day to myself. He would always put work first and was only home a couple hours a night to sleep. Then when he was off the few times he was, he insisted on staying home and got pissed because I wanted to go out and have some fun instead of being stuck home. We eventually ended up in a homeless shelter because he gave up his job and lied about having another one as a camp counselor and having a house in Maine ready for us, but then he supposedly had money stolen from him by his brother.

In the shelter DCF got involved and eventually the kids were taken because one time the house was a wreck when they came over. I hadn’t had time to clean it from the day before because I was too busy with taking the kids to school, the doctors and getting prescriptions. The night before my back hurt so much I could barely move and David was fixing some legal problems in FL.

He continuously blamed me for our children being taken, but then he eventually got them back. My oldest daughter was taken again when my youngest passed away from what was thought to be a bathtub drowning. It was later found out it was a brain hemorrhage. We got back together and things got worse again. At one point I wanted so badly to leave because I felt like he didn’t care anymore. This went on for months. After my first stay in a psychiatric hospital due to my baby daughter’s death I wanted to work it out. Eventually everything went back to him being his cruel self. We both verbally abused each other. He would continue to falsely accuse me of cheating on him with every guy I met, including male college professors when I went back to school. He continued to call me a slut and a whore and ugly and fat, saying I was too ugly to get anyone else. At one point we had his friend, Lisa, staying with us, and he always took her side. He would flirt with Lisa, let her sit on his lap and even dry hump him one time. He even let her stay with him after she got me kicked out for the weekend. I finally kicked her out with his support. She was supposed to be out the same weekend, but he never stuck to that promise either. I eventually got her to leave when he finally took my side for real.

We separated and got back together several times. Now we’re done though. He stopped hitting me for six months and then started the accidental stuff again -- grabbing me really hard and saying he just wanted to pull me close. All our arguing led me into a psychiatric hospital so I moved out. We were doing good but then decided on a divorce. I ended up moving back in with him to save money to move near my family, and we tried it one last time but split for the final time a few weeks ago.  I also recently found out he lied to me again. I have finally learned he’s never going to change and I am moving on from this point forward. I will admit I do still love him though.