Domestic Violence; a Story of Survival

They call me a survivor, but some days I wonder why. I mean, my life is much better than it was, but financially I am devastated. There are some days I look at my 3 year old and am overwhelmed with fear that I will not be able to sustain us. 

I was born into violence, I married very young and I never finished school or learned to drive. I never had life tools, friends or other things that “normal” people had. I was conditioned to become both the abuser and the abused.

After my mother finally left my step dad when I was in my late teens, and already married and separated I was drinking and doing drugs. I didn't know then that I was dealing with PTSD. I thought I was the oldest, so it was my responsibility to care for the family. Mom had 4 other children. 

I started stripping, and I frequented the biker clubs in the town in which I lived. They had become my family, and for the first time in my life I felt safe. I also picked up victimizing my family where my stepfather left off, especially my mother. I had become a monster. I was the product of my childhood and all I had seen in it. If anyone ever thinks that a violent home does not affect their children I am living proof otherwise.

It IS a fact that kids in these homes have a long and tough road ahead of them. Believe me, kids hear and see more than you give them credit for. I know!

It took a lot of doctors to properly diagnose me and get me the help I needed to stop being the abuser. However, my life turned in a whole other direction. I then became the abused.

I have been on the verge of death. I at times was my worst abuser. I met my little girl’s dad and he was not like the rest. He took me in, and my life changed. I was clean for years, we had stability, money and nice things. I never had any of this, and I can remember passing the homes of those who did wondering how they did it. What did they know that I didn't?

I knew I was failing his expectations, and the beatings were severe. That is until I got pregnant. He hit me once while I was pregnant and I finally went to the Women Shelter. I called and made a report, but he had connections. Nothing was ever done. I was scared. I went back. How could I raise a baby on my own, and surely the baby would change him. Yeah, she did.

The beatings turned into severe and devastating years of mental, emotional and physical abuse. No matter what I did it was wrong. No matter what I wore it was horrible. He made fun of my body, called me crater face and not a day went by that he did not tell me he hated me. He threatened me with my daughter. I did everything for him, and the more he hated me the harder I tried to stop making him feel bad! Seriously?

I was abused sexually so many times I cannot count by him. And then he would insult me afterwards, he would tell me do not touch him and that he hated me. These are just the nice things. I cannot even say some of the deplorable things that went on behind closed doors.

His “moods” changed on a dime and come out of nowhere. We never had a honeymoon phase. Sometimes it would last a month or more. One good day was all I needed for a breath of hope, but the bad times became more consistent until all of the good had been consumed. I do not even recognize myself anymore.

I cannot drive a car, and at 38 I am working on my high school diploma. I suffer from social anxiety disorder, I have no idea how to take a compliment, no interest in a relationship and I just feel that a life of abuse had disabled me. Today I am a mom, a sister a daughter and a friend, but abuse has crippled me. I am in constant fear and live with anxiety almost daily. There is always a fear of failure and a feeling of impending doom hovering over me. 

Without organizations like Uplifting Change Through Healing Words I would never have gotten out, and I still use outreach services whenever I have no other resources. 

Mothers like me are out there, and I know that. One of my worst memories is calling because I knew how would beat me and being turned away because there were no funds in outreach and no beds in the local shelter. He actually was able to find that I called and it was 20 times worse. I almost died. 

I never want to see that happen again to anyone ever. I am going to make a difference in this life from my experiences, but it takes people like you to help the victims who need it, because getting out is the beginning. Many like me will never completely heal from the wounds we endured. Please take a moment to donate to Uplifting Change Through Healing Words so that no one is ever turned away again due to lack of funds.

Today because of programs like this my child is in Play Therapy. I am hoping to break the cycle with her and someday learn to live again myself. I do not want to teach my child to be a victim, and no child should ever live like I did. Many do not make it through, and those who do…well, it is devastating to the point of disablement. Do whatever you can, we have to stop this epidemic, and it starts with you. 

Change a life today. You could save a life or alter the life of a child with a small donation to Uplifting Change Through Healing Words. Help break they cycle. 

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