And, I have to admit that in that first marriage I turned away from the truth and from the red flags that were there long before he ever raised a hand. There was the advance evidence of a lack of moral fortitude and a slightly askew sense of right and wrong that my ex-husband possessed. So for many years I lived in a sort of haze believing that the devil I knew was easier to live with than the devil I didn't know. You see, back then, in my world, there would always be some sort of devil.
It took a really long time to realize that I could actually have a life without devils; without abusive behavior; without putting up with intentionally hurtful or out of control people. It took an even longer time until I could finally begin to draw lines in the sand and demand to be treated with dignity and respect. Leaving my first marriage was just the first step.
The reason leaving was only the first step was because he was not the only person I allowed to treat me that way. My acceptance of domestic abuse started from when I was a very young girl. It was something I grew up accepting because it was all around me. How could I expect to grow up and see the world any differently?
So my hope with this story is that others will see that there is a way to get out. There is no reason anyone should be allowed to treat anyone this way. Women have to know that there is life after abuse.
If you know someone who is in this kind of a situation; someone who just got out; someone who has been out for years; and more importantly: someone who is heading into a marriage or relationship like this, please, pass my story along. I was strong enough to get out and save my life. We can only pass that strength to others by sharing our stories. Here is mine:
"Breathing can be severely compromised if your soon to be ex-husband’s knee happens to be in the middle of your chest, pinning you to the couch, as he wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes.
It’s funny the things that run through your mind. You think about the already packed bags and boxes ready for their escape at the front door. You think about the empty apartment waiting for you. You imagine the rooms and how safe you will be there: alone. You wonder what the police will say because you are wearing these old lady pajamas with lace on the edges of the sleeves and pant bottoms. You wonder if your daughter will see you and be embarrassed that you are wearing the ugliest pajamas in the world when your body is found and she will have to live with that image burned into her brain for the rest of her life."
To read the entire story follow this link to the October issue of r.kv.r.y.