There's your trigger warning. I'm not holding back on my own experiences, so please take care of your own needs before reading. I do have at the end some links and helpful tips for those who may find themselves in a similar situation. SCROLL UNTIL YOU HIT BOLDED TEXT IF YOU NEED TO SKIP THINGS FOR YOUR OWN MENTAL WELL BEING.
Learning that [not stating how I know this person] has been hiding an abusive relationship for years has put today in a combination of overdrive with accompanying tail spin. My first reaction is to gather all the information needed, supplies, etc., and rocket launch that to the woman in need. Now that I've done as much as I can for the moment, everything in my past is hitting like a ton of bricks. Good thing I have therapy tomorrow. =/
It's been 18 years and three months since a man first hit me. I remember every single time he hit me after that, too. It came out of nowhere, was terrifying and awful, but more than any of the pain I felt from all the times he hurt me, I remember the overwhelming shame that followed.
I was ashamed that I let it happen. Ashamed that I didn't do anything more than look away after it had happened. Ashamed that I didn't find a way to make it stop. I was too smart to be in an abusive relationship, and yet there I was towards the end, cowering in the bathroom knowing that it was going to be really awful this time because I dared fight back. (I had locked the deadbolt on the front door.) Well, that didn't stop my 6'8" 280 pound husband from knocking the entire front door off the house - hinges, trim and all.
My being too smart didn't stop him from picking me up at 8 months pregnant and literally throwing me across the room into the wall. From slapping me across the face and bloodying my nose minutes before he knew my dad was going to show up, because what, I was going to tell my dad? Didn't stop him from any of the times my "smart mouth" pissed him off just enough to pin my arm behind my back until I cried, shove me with his open hand against my face until I got out of his way, on and on.
Nothing about ME mattered, which was the whole point. And funny enough, IS the whole point: it wasn't ABOUT me. It was about him. HIS anger, HIS frustration, HIS what the fuck ever. I could have been stupid. I could have been rich, poor(er), black, white, whatever. HE was the abuser - it had nothing to do with me, other than the unfortunate circumstances of being trapped with that person.
I actually lived next door to a cop. I was Mormon at the time, and he was in my ward (parish). We lived in a duplex, so he knew what was going on. Come on. And he would time getting his paper or the mail when he could hear me going out to get my paper or mail and quietly ask me if there was anything he could do to help.
Oh, of course not, because nothing was wrong! <-- that was the shame speaking. FFS, I wore long-sleeved shirts in the DESERT in AUGUST. I had a half-starved baby, because my ex would disappear for days at a time and wouldn't leave me with my car or any food. GAH.
I wouldn't accept help, because it was embarrassing to admit that I couldn't handle it, that I'd made a mistake in marrying him, whatever. I also wouldn't accept help because it wasn't overt. You know what was? My sister showing up with her husband (who had a handgun on him, I later learned) in a truck. We managed to get me and the kids out when my ex was working. I threw together two suitcases full of kids' clothes, a shopping bag for my own things (so many of my clothes and personal belongings had been given away to girlfriends, wow, still not over that!), and some of our dishes and kids toys we hadn't unpacked before moving into the duplex. And there was $.38 in the junk bowl for keys.
That was it.
I spent the next five months shell-shocked, trying to figure out what the hell to do with a twenty month old baby (my son) and a barely four month old (#2). We stayed with my sister for 36 hours, flew back to Texas (omg, #2 drank her bottle too fast on the plane's decent and threw up all over the woman behind me, and I burst into tears - I'm tearing up just thinking about the humiliation I felt - and almost gave her my shirt to wear. (She was so nice and calm, telling me she had twins and that wasn't the first time it had happened, and I was so fucking GRATEFUL to her in that moment. I don't think I've ever been so grateful for a person treating me so calmly in my life as I was right then.)
We stayed with my awful, awful mother for two and a half weeks until she couldn't "deal" with it anymore and shipped me off to live with her mother, the one with schizophrenia who lived (truly) in the ghetto. One neighbor raised fighting dogs and fighting cocks, and the other neighbor made/sold meth. It was her "bridal home" so she wasn't leaving. Please know that I was so, so grateful to her. We had our good times, it just wasn't an ideal situation. Her tiny 800 sq ft house had me and my two babies crammed into one little room among her 50 years of memorabilia. We stayed there for five months while I went on welfare and WIC, searched for a job and learned how to be human again.
(To the Mormon Church's credit: I never would have made it as fast as I did without their help. They arranged babysitters for me, clothing for an office job, and set me up with a job specialist to find an appropriate job for my skill set, learn how to budget as a single mom and figure out how to make it all work.)
I had cousins who I'd not spoken with in years send clothes for my kids without batting an eye. My dad - normally a "pull yourself up by your own bootstraps" kind of guy - helped me buy a beater of a vehicle - but it worked! - because of course my ex ended up with my car. With all of my stuff, actually, things I'd had for years before we'd even met, but WHATEVER. I was free. That was worth more.
What I'm saying is that because people stepped up and wouldn't let me look away, I was able to make a change. I've been reamed here on LJ before for daring to say that sometimes some women aren't strong enough [for whatever] and can't fix things on their own. Well, I fucking know what I'm talking about. I'm not interested in the academic discussion of women's rights using the most modern of terminology. I'm not interested in making sure I couch my words the right way so people who are merely interested in the topic feel included.
NOPE. I am going to talk like a person who has survived. As a person who knew she was making a horrible mistake every day for YEARS but knows that if it hadn't been for my sister showing up with a truck, I would have kept on in that horrible situation. (And maybe, just maybe those people who tell you you're wrong for using the words you use contribute to that sense of shame a little bit?) Sometimes some women AREN'T strong enough to do for themselves, so we need to HELP THEM. I don't think that's a belittling statement, or a statement that "little girls" someone. I think that's an honest truth. I mean, look around. It's the reality, even if it's not what we WISH the ideal was. Splitting hairs on how to define shit doesn't do diddly squat for that person in need of help. Because let me tell you, I am where I am right this minute because someone said, "Girl, you need to let me help you."
And in that vein, if you are in need of someone saying this to YOU, GIRL, YOU NEED TO LET ME HELP YOU.
IF YOU ARE IN A BAD SITUATION BUT ARE OVERWHELMED WITH WHAT THE HELL TO DO, START DOING SOME/ALL OF THESE THINGS:
PINCHING is abuse. POKING. TRIPPING. INSULTING YOU. BELITTLING YOU. RESTRAINING YOU. PREVENTING YOU FROM LEAVING WHEN YOU WANT. STALKING YOU. NOT LETTING YOU HAVE PRIVACY ON THE PHONE, EMAIL, WITH FAMILY, ETC. FORCING YOU TO DO THINGS YOU DO NOT WANT TO DO. Those things are abuse just as much as hauling off and punching you is abuse.
YOU DID NOTHING TO DESERVE IT. You do not deserve to be treated that way. You didn't do something stupid enough to warrant it, you didn't "mouth off" enough to deserve it, you didn't fail to do something properly. YOU DID NOTHING WRONG TO WARRANT ABUSE.
It is not YOU. It is THEM. 80% of abuse goes unreported in the state of Texas alone. You do NOT have to suffer. Is it going to instantly be roses after you get out? No. But you sure as hell won't be with HIM any more, and honey, for me, that smelled like a fucking rose garden. Anything was better than living my life in a full bodied cringe.
You have the right to live life pain and abuse free. It doesn't matter how much he's financially supported you. It doesn't matter if you're in this country because of him. WHATEVER EXCUSE HE FEEDS YOU IS WRONG. THAT IS NOT LICENSE FOR ABUSE.
I don't know where you are in all of this, but I know that fear and that shame. And I know that it doesn't last. *hugs*
CALL 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) (or 1-800-787-3224 for TDD) to immediately talk to someone who will listen to you without judgment and who will find a safehouse for you in your area. If you're able to go online without suspicion, go to womenslaw.org to find specific services in your area, such as a shelter, legal care, help if you're an immigrant, and child services.
THERE IS HELP. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
FOR PEOPLE WANTING TO HELP BUT DON'T KNOW HOW:
I may not have enough in me to show up and help you myself, I may not have it in me to do more than connect you to someone who CAN do that, but by god, I will help you get to the right people. IF YOU NEED HELP, YOU CONTACT ME.
I was raised to be perfect, or to shut up until I was. Lots of bad guidance there, let me tell you. I didn't tell anyone what was going on, because hey. I might've been wrong. He might've gotten better. I might've deserved it, etc. God damn, people, we have to look out for each other. There are times when it is literally life or death. I'd rather piss someone off for assuming they needed my help than to ignore something this major.
(And you can share this post with someone if they need this information, you don't have to ask.)
Note: I know this is gender-specific, but it's because I am gender specific. I only know what I know, and I don't know how to speak about abusive gay relationships for fear of giving incorrect information. I can almost guarantee, though, that the numbers I've listed will know how to help you if you're a gay male/trans/non-cis male/human being in an abusive relationship. And the words of love apply to you, too, don't doubt for a minute that you matter. <3
Learning that [not stating how I know this person] has been hiding an abusive relationship for years has put today in a combination of overdrive with accompanying tail spin. My first reaction is to gather all the information needed, supplies, etc., and rocket launch that to the woman in need. Now that I've done as much as I can for the moment, everything in my past is hitting like a ton of bricks. Good thing I have therapy tomorrow. =/
It's been 18 years and three months since a man first hit me. I remember every single time he hit me after that, too. It came out of nowhere, was terrifying and awful, but more than any of the pain I felt from all the times he hurt me, I remember the overwhelming shame that followed.
I was ashamed that I let it happen. Ashamed that I didn't do anything more than look away after it had happened. Ashamed that I didn't find a way to make it stop. I was too smart to be in an abusive relationship, and yet there I was towards the end, cowering in the bathroom knowing that it was going to be really awful this time because I dared fight back. (I had locked the deadbolt on the front door.) Well, that didn't stop my 6'8" 280 pound husband from knocking the entire front door off the house - hinges, trim and all.
My being too smart didn't stop him from picking me up at 8 months pregnant and literally throwing me across the room into the wall. From slapping me across the face and bloodying my nose minutes before he knew my dad was going to show up, because what, I was going to tell my dad? Didn't stop him from any of the times my "smart mouth" pissed him off just enough to pin my arm behind my back until I cried, shove me with his open hand against my face until I got out of his way, on and on.
Nothing about ME mattered, which was the whole point. And funny enough, IS the whole point: it wasn't ABOUT me. It was about him. HIS anger, HIS frustration, HIS what the fuck ever. I could have been stupid. I could have been rich, poor(er), black, white, whatever. HE was the abuser - it had nothing to do with me, other than the unfortunate circumstances of being trapped with that person.
I actually lived next door to a cop. I was Mormon at the time, and he was in my ward (parish). We lived in a duplex, so he knew what was going on. Come on. And he would time getting his paper or the mail when he could hear me going out to get my paper or mail and quietly ask me if there was anything he could do to help.
Oh, of course not, because nothing was wrong! <-- that was the shame speaking. FFS, I wore long-sleeved shirts in the DESERT in AUGUST. I had a half-starved baby, because my ex would disappear for days at a time and wouldn't leave me with my car or any food. GAH.
I wouldn't accept help, because it was embarrassing to admit that I couldn't handle it, that I'd made a mistake in marrying him, whatever. I also wouldn't accept help because it wasn't overt. You know what was? My sister showing up with her husband (who had a handgun on him, I later learned) in a truck. We managed to get me and the kids out when my ex was working. I threw together two suitcases full of kids' clothes, a shopping bag for my own things (so many of my clothes and personal belongings had been given away to girlfriends, wow, still not over that!), and some of our dishes and kids toys we hadn't unpacked before moving into the duplex. And there was $.38 in the junk bowl for keys.
That was it.
I spent the next five months shell-shocked, trying to figure out what the hell to do with a twenty month old baby (my son) and a barely four month old (#2). We stayed with my sister for 36 hours, flew back to Texas (omg, #2 drank her bottle too fast on the plane's decent and threw up all over the woman behind me, and I burst into tears - I'm tearing up just thinking about the humiliation I felt - and almost gave her my shirt to wear. (She was so nice and calm, telling me she had twins and that wasn't the first time it had happened, and I was so fucking GRATEFUL to her in that moment. I don't think I've ever been so grateful for a person treating me so calmly in my life as I was right then.)
We stayed with my awful, awful mother for two and a half weeks until she couldn't "deal" with it anymore and shipped me off to live with her mother, the one with schizophrenia who lived (truly) in the ghetto. One neighbor raised fighting dogs and fighting cocks, and the other neighbor made/sold meth. It was her "bridal home" so she wasn't leaving. Please know that I was so, so grateful to her. We had our good times, it just wasn't an ideal situation. Her tiny 800 sq ft house had me and my two babies crammed into one little room among her 50 years of memorabilia. We stayed there for five months while I went on welfare and WIC, searched for a job and learned how to be human again.
(To the Mormon Church's credit: I never would have made it as fast as I did without their help. They arranged babysitters for me, clothing for an office job, and set me up with a job specialist to find an appropriate job for my skill set, learn how to budget as a single mom and figure out how to make it all work.)
I had cousins who I'd not spoken with in years send clothes for my kids without batting an eye. My dad - normally a "pull yourself up by your own bootstraps" kind of guy - helped me buy a beater of a vehicle - but it worked! - because of course my ex ended up with my car. With all of my stuff, actually, things I'd had for years before we'd even met, but WHATEVER. I was free. That was worth more.
What I'm saying is that because people stepped up and wouldn't let me look away, I was able to make a change. I've been reamed here on LJ before for daring to say that sometimes some women aren't strong enough [for whatever] and can't fix things on their own. Well, I fucking know what I'm talking about. I'm not interested in the academic discussion of women's rights using the most modern of terminology. I'm not interested in making sure I couch my words the right way so people who are merely interested in the topic feel included.
NOPE. I am going to talk like a person who has survived. As a person who knew she was making a horrible mistake every day for YEARS but knows that if it hadn't been for my sister showing up with a truck, I would have kept on in that horrible situation. (And maybe, just maybe those people who tell you you're wrong for using the words you use contribute to that sense of shame a little bit?) Sometimes some women AREN'T strong enough to do for themselves, so we need to HELP THEM. I don't think that's a belittling statement, or a statement that "little girls" someone. I think that's an honest truth. I mean, look around. It's the reality, even if it's not what we WISH the ideal was. Splitting hairs on how to define shit doesn't do diddly squat for that person in need of help. Because let me tell you, I am where I am right this minute because someone said, "Girl, you need to let me help you."
And in that vein, if you are in need of someone saying this to YOU, GIRL, YOU NEED TO LET ME HELP YOU.
IF YOU ARE IN A BAD SITUATION BUT ARE OVERWHELMED WITH WHAT THE HELL TO DO, START DOING SOME/ALL OF THESE THINGS:
- Get to a bank, it doesn't matter which one. If your grocery store has a bank, all the better because you can HIDE what you're going to do. SET UP A SAVINGS ACCOUNT. Ask to speak to a female accounts manager. Tell her that you only have a certain amount of money, but it's IMPERATIVE that you have a secret way to keep it. Trust me, you won't be the first woman to hide money this way. Put any and all extra change that you can into this account. It may never be much, but it will be YOURS. (I had to sign all of my paychecks over to my husband or suffer the consequences.)
- Keep your purse nearby at all times. Get in the habit of keeping your phone charger in your purse.
- make a few copies of your house key. Give it to a neighbor, family, your priest, boss, whoever. If you go missing (or if you can't stand and walk to the door) this could save your life
- Have a CODE WORD for trusted friends. If someone knocks on the door and you can't bring yourself to answer (or if he is listening in to your phone calls, etc) this is how you can safely communicate that you need help. "Honey, how are you, really?" "Me? Oh, I'm aces, no worries!" *friend calls 911*
- Have an escape route in mind. Is there a library you can run to? A neighbor's house within walking distance? Have two or three places in mind that you can get to in a matter of minutes.
- If you can manage it, make copies of things like car registrations, lease agreements, mortgage papers, green card documentation, birth certificates, driver's licenses, immunization records, whatever. PUT THAT IN YOUR PURSE. (Shrink it down, fold it up, and slip it in a shitty novel that you keep in your purse. He'll most likely NOT look there.)
- if you can, get a gallon ziplock bag and put in it: tampons, travel shampoos and toothpaste, soap, tissues, extra meds, you get the idea
- keep your diaper bag (if applicable) filled with changes of clothes, diapers, snacks, formula, etc.
- [ETA] great tip: if applicable, establish a code word with older children to let them know they should avoid coming home for their own safety. Something innocuous like "the dishwasher's acting up" or something that won't raise suspicion with the abuser would be best.
- You might not be able to use a computer freely - he's monitoring it, has blocked your access, whatever it is. If you can get to a library at any point, use those computers and go to WOMENSLAW.ORG to find services in your area. Most are discreet and many will come meet you in safe places (coffee, car drop off at school) and know how to disguise that they're there to offer you assistance.
- DOCUMENT THINGS. If you can get to a computer, keep a log of what's happening to you, how you're feeling, whatever. Put that in a doc and upload it to something like Box.net or other online storage place so you don't have a record on your computer. AND THEN CLEAN YOUR HISTORY AND DELETE COOKIES. Every time you log on. EVERY. TIME. (Here's a site that shows you how to do it for your phone, PC, whatever you're using to access the internet.) DO NOT FORGET THE MAGIC THAT IS INCOGNITO MODE IN CHROME
PINCHING is abuse. POKING. TRIPPING. INSULTING YOU. BELITTLING YOU. RESTRAINING YOU. PREVENTING YOU FROM LEAVING WHEN YOU WANT. STALKING YOU. NOT LETTING YOU HAVE PRIVACY ON THE PHONE, EMAIL, WITH FAMILY, ETC. FORCING YOU TO DO THINGS YOU DO NOT WANT TO DO. Those things are abuse just as much as hauling off and punching you is abuse.
YOU DID NOTHING TO DESERVE IT. You do not deserve to be treated that way. You didn't do something stupid enough to warrant it, you didn't "mouth off" enough to deserve it, you didn't fail to do something properly. YOU DID NOTHING WRONG TO WARRANT ABUSE.
It is not YOU. It is THEM. 80% of abuse goes unreported in the state of Texas alone. You do NOT have to suffer. Is it going to instantly be roses after you get out? No. But you sure as hell won't be with HIM any more, and honey, for me, that smelled like a fucking rose garden. Anything was better than living my life in a full bodied cringe.
You have the right to live life pain and abuse free. It doesn't matter how much he's financially supported you. It doesn't matter if you're in this country because of him. WHATEVER EXCUSE HE FEEDS YOU IS WRONG. THAT IS NOT LICENSE FOR ABUSE.
I don't know where you are in all of this, but I know that fear and that shame. And I know that it doesn't last. *hugs*
CALL 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) (or 1-800-787-3224 for TDD) to immediately talk to someone who will listen to you without judgment and who will find a safehouse for you in your area. If you're able to go online without suspicion, go to womenslaw.org to find specific services in your area, such as a shelter, legal care, help if you're an immigrant, and child services.
THERE IS HELP. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
FOR PEOPLE WANTING TO HELP BUT DON'T KNOW HOW:
- Don't turn a blind eye. Everyone but that cop (and eventually my sister) did that to me, and it fed into the shame.
- Don't judge. You don't know what's going on. Just let them know you see it, you care, and when they're ready, you're ready to help.
- Consider making your next clothing donation to a Woman's Shelter in your area. A lot of women don't have anything but the clothes on their backs. That makes it really hard go on job interviews. (Or you know, feel like a contributing member of society. For me, at least.)
- DON'T JUDGE.
- Consider volunteering at a shelter.
- DO NOT SHARE INFORMATION. The most dangerous time for us is when we're fleeing. Emotions run high. DO NOT SHARE INFORMATION WITH ANYONE SHE DOESN'T EXPRESSLY NAME.
- You don't have to have the right thing to say. Just knowing you're in support of us - however that may be - does a lot.
- Consider making a donation to a shelter in your area. My favorite local place is Genesis Women's Shelter. Check out Noah's Magic Shoes for some awesomeness - and a way to connect with children in abusive families.
- Guys/males, your help might not be wanted at the time. It might be triggering for the woman to be around men. Don't be offended by that, just express that you can be trusted, and leave it up to her to come to you. She might not; it's her right. It's not a slight against you.
- DON'T JUDGE.
I may not have enough in me to show up and help you myself, I may not have it in me to do more than connect you to someone who CAN do that, but by god, I will help you get to the right people. IF YOU NEED HELP, YOU CONTACT ME.
I was raised to be perfect, or to shut up until I was. Lots of bad guidance there, let me tell you. I didn't tell anyone what was going on, because hey. I might've been wrong. He might've gotten better. I might've deserved it, etc. God damn, people, we have to look out for each other. There are times when it is literally life or death. I'd rather piss someone off for assuming they needed my help than to ignore something this major.
(And you can share this post with someone if they need this information, you don't have to ask.)
Note: I know this is gender-specific, but it's because I am gender specific. I only know what I know, and I don't know how to speak about abusive gay relationships for fear of giving incorrect information. I can almost guarantee, though, that the numbers I've listed will know how to help you if you're a gay male/trans/non-cis male/human being in an abusive relationship. And the words of love apply to you, too, don't doubt for a minute that you matter. <3
no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 09:46 pm (UTC)*LOTS OF HUGS* <3
no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 09:53 pm (UTC)<3 <3 <3
no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 09:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 09:55 pm (UTC)<3 That was the right thing to do, says I.
no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 10:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 10:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 10:14 pm (UTC)It turned out later that SHE was in an abusive relationship as well, and I think it took seeing me going through my own hell for her to find the courage to leave.
It's the shame that keeps us there. We didn't try hard enough, we weren't good enough, we weren't righteous enough to deserve a "good" husband. It silenced us, it held us underwater, never allowing us to breathe.
Thank you. You are a hero, and a comrade in arms.
no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 10:19 pm (UTC)God, that fucking SHAME. It could choke me, strangle me right now, just the memory of it. We won't forgive ourselves for the mistake. Everything is OUR FAULT and OUR STUPIDITY instead of being able to look at the situation objectively. That's something people who haven't experienced abuse can't understand. I don't WANT them to understand it intrinsically, but yeah.
You know what I'm talking about. And I hate that you do. Then again, you also know (I hope) how freaking amazing it feels to be free of that daily hell. You, my sweet, are also a hero. I am so incredibly moved that you and your sister were each other's rocks in this horrible situation. *more hugs, because HUGS, RIGHT!?*
no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 10:19 pm (UTC)I LOVE YOU.
no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 10:20 pm (UTC)I love you very, very much, and you're the best sort of friend a girl could ever ask for. <3
no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 10:34 pm (UTC)Thank you for writing this.
no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 10:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 10:39 pm (UTC)Anyway, the person I worked most closely with at my last employer lost his sister due to domestic violence. As a consequence, it was a personal thing for him to work with a lot of local charities and women & children's shelters. For the holidays our office would adopt the families at a shelter and work to fulfill their Christmas wish lists. It's a time of year of heightened stress and therefore swelling populations at the shelters so donations at that time of year are especially appreciated.
A couple of other things we learned:
* If possible, get and hide a pre-paid cell phone. So much of our daily lives revolve around having the ability to make a call any time, anywhere, so the infrastructure doesn't really exist any more to allow running to somewhere local and making a call.
* If possible and depending on ages, work out a plan with the kids including code words so they know to do things like go home with a certain friend after school or let so-and-so pick them up that day. It's obviously tricky when kids are involved, but if it's possible to dry run it somehow (even without them knowing *why* they are doing that particular thing) so the plan involves something they've done at least once before, it helps reduce their anxiety when the actual time comes to cut and run.
For anyone local to Portland, Raphael's House (http://raphaelhouse.com/) is ready and willing to help any time.
In most communities there is a pretty amazing structure of services available to help, but of course it's not the kind of thing people really think about in their daily lives so it almost seems invisible to us. One group I've worked with specialized in helping kids keep up with their homework while living lives that meant waking up at one place and going to bed in another. I never would've thought about that level of detail with the kind of help people might need, but someone has. And it's there if you need it.
no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 10:44 pm (UTC)Oftentimes (as it was for me) thinking so far down the road was overwhelming to the point of shutting down any action - those baby steps (so to speak) of how to just get the hell out of the house and to somewhere you can breathe are so important.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 10:46 pm (UTC)I had to help a friend move all her things out of an apartment while her husband was at work, once. She'd been with him for a couple of years before I could bring myself to intrude enough to try to help. (And really, it was the person who gave her a basement apartment to crash in who was the hero). What really struck me was that she was so ashamed, and she was afraid her elderly Catholic parents would fault her. (In fact, they were relieved and grateful when she divorced him, but somehow she thought they'd choose dogma over their youngest daughter).
no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 10:55 pm (UTC)I've found that people in general are happy to see women get out of abusive relationships. (And when they're not, that's a pretty good insight into the inner workings of a jackass.) I'm so happy to hear that your friend's parents had that reaction. Man, that had to be a huge relief for her. <3
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:<3
From:Re: <3
From:Re: <3
From:no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 10:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 11:16 pm (UTC)<3 <3 <3 <3
no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 11:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 11:16 pm (UTC)This icon is for you
Date: 2013-09-09 11:03 pm (UTC)And this icon is for you :)
Date: 2013-09-09 11:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 11:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 11:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 11:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 11:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 11:39 pm (UTC)Bookmarking this page should ever the need arise to pass it on.
no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 11:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:30 Days: Day 15 Wherein I Recommend a Very Important Post By Someone Else
Date: 2013-09-09 11:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 11:52 pm (UTC)Thank you for sharing your story. It may help another woman find an escape. I know it's a good reminder to me to be vigilant to help others.
no subject
Date: 2013-09-09 11:53 pm (UTC)*hugs hugs hugs* Really, thank you so much.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2013-09-10 12:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-10 12:16 am (UTC)I don't mean this in a critical way AT ALL, because it's wonderful that you checked in on her. If something like that happens to anyone scrolling by, go ahead and call the police. I say that because in the States, that starts a paper trail (and could be proof that she wasn't "abusing him" - something that happened in the major news media just today with George Zimmerman.)
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2013-09-10 12:08 am (UTC)You are awesome, and only brash in the bestest of ways!!
no subject
Date: 2013-09-10 12:19 am (UTC)I would also add that for older kids, the whole "tell a trusted adult" thing is troubling if that adult doesn't take you seriously. SO KEEP TELLING TRUSTED ADULTS UNTIL ONE DOES BELIEVE YOU/LISTEN TO YOU.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2013-09-10 12:13 am (UTC)Which is all by way of saying oh god, I hear you. I'm so glad you wrote this, and so glad you survived. You are an amazing person and I'm so glad my corner of the internet nudges up against yours on a regular basis ♥
no subject
Date: 2013-09-10 12:21 am (UTC)Shame is such a useless fucking emotion in situations like this. It serves its purpose when we do truly wrong things (say hurtful words, treat people poorly) but it's such an easy thing to twist and manipulate and turn into a weapon.
I am SO happy that my internet experience includes you. <3
no subject
Date: 2013-09-10 12:31 am (UTC)With the kids, I was in way over my head, and too long convinced by my parents that this was my job, this was what I was for, and if I couldn't handle it, it was because I was a failure.
With the boyfriend...there were so many things I thought "didn't count" as abuse until years later. He hated my friends and insulted them, wouldn't let me hang out with them unless he came, too, and freaked out about any of my friends being male. He would manipulate me by crying to keep me from hanging out with them. As I became more depressed, physically ill, and overwhelmed from the exhaustion of tending to the needs of seven other people, he would call me lazy, mock me for letting laundry pile up, or for not delivering meals promptly on schedule. He would make fun of what I ate, point out how many calories it had, and once hung a sign on our refrigerator door that said "YOU'RE NOT HUNGRY" so I would be deterred from eating. And at least once (though there may have been more times I don't know of, considering), he had sex with me while I was completely unconscious. (It's ten years later and I still get a tingle of shame and embarrassment telling anyone this, a little voice that whispers, "For fuck's sake, you're making a mountain out of a molehill, aren't you? He never hit you. And that wasn't rape." I usually don't call it rape. Rape isn't something that just makes you feel a little weird and icky when you remember it, is it?)
With the children depending on me, my parents not coming back, or understanding why I might want them to (my mother's response to the sex-while-unconscious thing was, "Well, some people like that!"), even though I was deeply unhappy, I felt like I couldn't leave him. I would've been on my own with all those kids, and it was killing me even with him around.
I wish I had a great story about a friend or family member who swooped in to help, but unfortunately, I had been alienated from all of my flesh-and-blood friends and my internet friends had no idea what was going on. What finally got him out of the picture was when he went across country to visit his family. He hounded me for days that we should move out there, and I said no. ...so he slept with his ex-girlfriend. When I finally agreed to consider the move, he confessed the cheating.
It was the easiest "We're done and I don't ever want to see you again" I've ever had.
Things got a lot worse before they got better once he was out of the picture, but I don't want to go into that. Suffice to say, if anyone ever needs a way out and a place to stay, my door is open. I know how scary it is, especially with little kids- you become so convinced you can't do it on your own, that even his cruel and useless ass is better than no help at all. But it can be done, and other help is out there.
In my area, Isabel's House (http://www.isabelshouse.org/) is a safe place to take your children so they'll be okay if you don't find a place to stay right away. Even if you are not a Catholic (I'm not), the Catholic Church (http://www.cc-mo.org/programs/housing/) will help you find some place to live. And The Kitchen (http://www.thekitcheninc.org/) has a dozen programs for shelter, education, job placement, medical and mental health care, food, and clothing.
There are people who want to help. Please, don't anybody be too ashamed to ask.
no subject
Date: 2013-09-10 12:32 am (UTC)In any case, this is a wonderful post, bb, and I'm glad you made it, and I'm glad you got help and got out.
ETA: Or...not? I don't know, I don't understand LJ anymore.
no subject
Date: 2013-09-10 12:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-10 12:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-10 12:43 am (UTC)First, as someone who suffered abuse (although not at home), EVERYONE needs help in that situation. If you're being abused--by a spouse, by a family member, by a parent, by a caregiver...whoever. There are people who help, and those people literally save lives, no question. There are people who saved my life.
Second, some advice (coming from both a lawyer and someone who worked as a counselor for victims of domestic violence): DOCUMENT. Document everything. There are ways of hiding pictures, documents, etc. If you can document safely, DO SO. Write incidents down (date, time, what happened, any injuries, etc.), and hide them in a safe place if at all possible. Take pictures if you can, but be safe. There are ways to put files in anonymous places online that are not on a computer and are not searchable. (I actually know of a family where the mom was hella abusive. The kids documented everything to make sure their dad got custody in the divorce, because he did not know what was going on. It worked.)
If it's too dangerous to use your computer at home, use it at the office, or the library, or other public location. If you do use it at home, find ways to hide your browser history. For example, downloading a different web browser (like Internet Explorer or the like) and hiding the icon in a separate folder from the other applications. You can keep the history clear on whatever browser the abuser doesn't use, and they're unlikely to find it. Hide necessary files in other locations like a sky drive or the Cloud, or scan documents and email them to a trusted friend.
If you can get a PO box before you're ready to leave, it's a great idea. Start getting innocuous things sent there. It might not be ideal, but if you can apply for a credit card in your own name, that might help, and have everything sent to the PO box or to a trusted friend's house, or relative's. That way, you will have a means to get immediate expenses.
If you can, and if there's someone you trust, you can have them check up on you on a regular basis. It might be easier to leave if you know you have a lifeline when you're ready. It also gives a mental boost of knowing someone cares, and will check in on a regular basis. You don't have to tell them everything if you're not comfortable with that.
Just know that there ARE resources out there for you. There are people who are ready, willing, and able to help, who will do everything in their power to keep you safe and get you and your kids (if you have them) back on your feet.
no subject
Date: 2013-09-10 12:29 pm (UTC)When someone has no connection at all to abuse (and good for them!) they don't necessarily know what to look for, or know if it's okay to help. I love that you're chiming in with the "YES, PLEASE." It really really does save lives when people genuinely offer help.
no subject
Date: 2013-09-10 01:01 am (UTC)We have a great shelter here--top secret location--and we donate regularly to it. Clothes, mostly, but also toiletries, baby clothes, books, toys, etc. It's so easy to take for granted the simple grace of just being. Being quiet, being still, being safe, being with your friends and your kids.
I am so sorry for my utter failure on all fronts of friendship during this time of your life.
Love you and miss you.
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Date: 2013-09-10 12:31 pm (UTC)I love you, you're one of the most important people in my life, and you're a good person - one of the goodest. :)
(And I love that you know about that shelter - and that it needs to stay un-located for safety reasons.)
no subject
Date: 2013-09-10 01:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-10 12:32 pm (UTC)