Tag Archives: domestic violence

Flee

Maybe if I pretend I’m not breathing.

Maybe if I scream loud enough.

Maybe if I can get out of this room.

Maybe if I can get the clip away from him.

Maybe if I can tell him I need water.

Maybe if I can make it out the door.

Maybe I can make it to my friend’s house.

Maybe if I call the police they’ll protect me.

Maybe if I ducked fast enough I’d be okay.

Domestic violence isn’t funny. It doesn’t happen once. It terrorized me.

My things would come up missing only to be found burned in the back yard. I wasn’t allowed rest because of the mocking from outside my bedroom door that I had to put a lock on to keep him from raping me again. I couldn’t go to my friends without having to check in frequently to make sure I wasn’t doing anything inappropriate which I didn’t.

The first time he hit me was with both of his palms smacked into my shoulders pushing me backwards. I was so surprised that I didn’t respond. When he started going for the face, that was the most difficult. When he pulled the gun I’d gotten for personal protection, putting it to my head, I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want him to be the cause of my death. I chose to flee.

I read years later that he said he didn’t want a divorce. Then why would you beat on your wife? Why would you pull a gun on her? Why would you blame her for your shortcomings? I don’t regret leaving him. I only regret not doing so sooner.

If you’re in a domestic violence situation, or are uncertain whether or not your experiences are abuse, please contact Domestic Violence Hotline, or call 800-799-SAFE (7233). If you have been sexually assaulted, yes, even by your husband/partner/boyfriend/girlfriend, you can find help at R.A.I.N.N. (Rape And Incest National Network) by visiting their website at rainn.org or calling 800 656 HOPE (4673)

You are not alone. Help is out there. You will be okay.

Setting the record straight on Marital rape

I had the honor of speaking on the panel hosted by Huffington Post Live regarding marital rape. As a survivor of this breach in trust/faith/love, I wanted to shine a light into the dark corners. It’s a 30 minute segment. I’m audio only, but I feel I handled myself well, completely answered the questions I was asked as well as offered encouragement to others.

Please take the time to watch and listen to this video. Share all you’d like. The more discussions that arise about this topic is affirmation that we’re working towards a solution. Thank you.

http://live.huffingtonpost.com/r/segment/the-truth-about-marital-rape-donald-trump-lawyer-/55b7bf1902a760a12c0000f6

If you or someone you know has been a victim of sexual assault. You’re not alone. It’s not your fault. There is hope.

R.A.I.N.N.

Preying Hands

Preying hands

Preying hands

I took my vow of silence when I unwillingly walked the aisle

I knew that once sealed, I was lost. I hoped to be.

I kissed his lips knowing they were poison

I tenderly held his hands that blessed me with curses;

beat me, berated me, tore me down to the floor where

I prayed at his altar with bloody knees,

“Please! I won’t sin again!”

I genuflected my resolved acceptance

of my worth from his unholy blessings and unlawful prayers.

I lay prostrate, willing myself to Mother Mary

Falling short of grace;

denied her forgiveness.

With the community choir ignoring the sermon

of discipleship he insisted I learn,

fifth in hand

I begged physical communion

I knew he’d lay down the fists for lustful sins

grunting self-satisfied “amens” of self-approval.

While I lynched my own redemption

on the clothesline laden with our dirty laundry

begging silently with screaming stains of humiliation

Betrayal drip drying fresh spilled secrets

Everybody listened

Nobody came.

Everybody knew

but denied my name.

Until

I found my voice

Until

I left six bullets in the clip

putting them safe in my pocket

one still in the chamber.

I knew you were a crappy shot

I won my life in a daring public race of rushing roulette

As I ran among my neighbors that I’d shared bread with

taken their children on vacation, gifted with Christmas

Challenging them to shine a light,

to allow me one phone call from my personal prison

Each house darkened but one remained.

My prayers finally answered

by confused badges of protect and serve honor.

I surrendered my protection

my haven

my home

because his shame lied

lay bruises on my arms.

Hear this, Father of my ex-communication,

I am again holy.

I am true in spirit.

I walk in grace while you walk in your valley of darkness

I pray you find your way to your own righteousness

I pray you never feel the transgressions you offered to me

visited upon your person

I pray that understanding of your offense

be never washed in the blood of another.

Amen and Blessed Be

TRIGGER WARNING: Spousal abuse is no joke

The First Husband

April is Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault Awareness month (among others). I am a survivor of Domestic Violence.

April is Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault Awareness month (among others).
I am a survivor of Domestic Violence.

I felt the wash of rage strike through my stomach when I saw you there

With a ONETWO punch of viciousness, I cringed as if it were a physical blow

Violence flashed before my blackened eyes that have long since healed

I remembered in crystal clear detail the fire you created

That burned my possessions forcing me to be your possession

That charred my childhood into echoes of musical damnations

Removing the blessings my mother gave to me

On sunny afternoons in the plant room of my childhood home

And you, with lighter fluid in hand, me begging forgiveness

You tossing key upon key into the blaze despite my please, thank you.

There you were, glaring your judgement on my friend

Turning your nastiness towards someone I love

Every bit of forgiveness I thought I could give was erased

“I think you’re just being vulgar for the sake of vulgarity.”

Fuck you! You’d still have the wife you pledged to protect

If you wouldn’t have pulled her gun on her, or slapped her,

Or pushed her, or punched her, or threatened her, or raped her

Or abused her, or took her love and threw it like your smelly shoes, away.

You no longer are allowed access to me, you son of a bitch.

You are denied access to love from me or my tribe.

You are rebuked and are denied absolution from my heart because of your actions.

Lie all you want to the people in your life now, but we both know what happened.

We both know you are not the “Christian” you claim to be.

We both know what you’ve done.

The door is closed, return to your own hell.

TRIGGER WARNING! How long will you stay? DV/SA

The story I’m about to share with you is intense in emotion, digs into some really dark corners that many keep locked and heavily guarded. I am not opening the door with the spotlight shining in to require pity, request comfort, nor to have anyone claim, “Bless her heart.” I am shining the light into my darkness so that, hopefully, my flashlight can reach someone who feels betrayed, solitary in their suffering, shameful, or guilt-ridden. I end this first paragraph with this:

IT WAS NOT YOUR FAULT. I BELIEVE YOU.

The month of April is Sexual Assault/Domestic Violence awareness month. For those of us who have survived through these violent crimes, it’s an important month to help educate others about the necessary resources to protect ones physical, mental, and emotional self, commonly without financial ability to pay due to the clandestine fleeing that can be crucial to becoming a survivor and not a victim.

I’m not going to spout statistics, or at least not a lot of them, because those are just numbers. I want to share with you my face.

meage6This is a picture of me at around age six. By the time this picture was taken, I was already quite skilled in how to be the twisted version of the good daughter. I had secrets I couldn’t tell to anyone or my mom and my brother would be killed. I already understood that I was good for one thing. I was so carefully bred to be a victim, I never associated (even up until about six weeks ago) myself with that word or with the fact that things that happened were violent crimes against my person. I just felt like I’d survived, my mom and brother were still alive, life was good.

When I’d reached age 21, I was in full blown PTSD (non-combat trauma). When I read off the symptoms back then I sincerely believed that someone had been following me around writing my every move. It was terrifying to realize that other people had gone through the same thing. It was even more petrifying to realize that it happened to me. Denial is a vicious place to live.

After intensive in-patient treatment, several years of intensive outpatient, and then several MORE years of follow up (as needed) therapy, I feel comfortable and confident in saying that I’m on the other side of PTSD with minimal triggers. It took me 40 years of hard work (30 years actively) to get through the shame, the guilt, the depression, the feelings of being unworthy that were planted from the time I was very young.

The way that I identified myself changing from a total sexual being into a loving human being took devotion, courage, strength, guidance, and determination. It was a life or death battle that left me weary, broken, bloody, and sometimes hanging on by a thread of the Fates. But, as my matriarchs taught me, whether by grace or design, to thrive is the best testament to victory over that which demanded submission.

I ask you this question:

How long does it take before you say enough of a bad relationship? How far will you allow the violence against you to continue before you fight back? How much will have to be stripped of your personal dignity before you look around and say, “I can do better. WE can do better.”

I say, the time is now. Tomorrow may be too late to save one more girl from rape. Tomorrow may be too late to rescue one more child from starvation. Today. This is what we have. Join me, humans, in rescuing ourselves from one of the greatest tragedies and the source of our joint suffering, the lack of equality between genders in the name of LOVE, for the purpose of LOVE, with the intent of LOVE brought into action.

If we do not stand together as the majority population and demand equality, then we fail our sisters, our mothers, our grandmothers, our daughters, our children, our humanity. Men that wish equality are those we should cherish, nurture, encourage to defend, but never to rescue us. You can’t expect those who wish to keep us under their heel in the name of religious or political beliefs to release us from slavery (as the article this was inspired by) stated. That’s like allowing a wolf to watch ones sheep or a (JOKE ALERT) police officer to guard a doughnut.

Maya Angelou kept rising despite the anchors that attempted to drown her. So shall I rise whether anyone follows or everyone shies away from the truths. We must move for unity and equality, but for the right reasons, because it’s the right thing to do.

Sin-seriously

I don’t want to know the killer’s name or how it did its deeds.
I want to know the wo/men’s lives because therein lies the key.
To make the dead, neither sinner nor saint
but to revive their lives that are stained with the taint
of the bloodied hands of a death most gruesome
the details don’t matter in all the confusion
except to remember the lives that were lost
not glorify the murderer of stolen future’s cost

TRIGGER WARNING! Break the Silence, STOP! The violence!

TRIGGER WARNING: I’m going to post this without using names because I don’t want to be disrespectful but needs to be addressed.

A while ago, I saw this video and it disturbed me. It was encouraging to some extent but the second part really made me wonder what would I do if I were in the same shoes witnessing this happening in front of me. Here is the video. Again, POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING:

I truly hoped that I’d be brave enough to stand up for anyone no matter who it is/was should they forget they have a right to feel safe, to not be humiliated, degraded, or otherwise emotionally abused. I witnessed an attractive young man be told by his girlfriend that he’s a fatty, that if she found someone with more money she’d leave him, but worse, in my eyes (as if those aren’t bad enough) she told him in front of other co-workers that he has dick sucking lips and should go find someone to blow. I said nothing at that time. It really truly bothered me, but I remained silent. Until today.

After witnessing another bout of her abuse, this time not only of this young man but of myself and another person, I went and spoke out against the consistent pattern of abuse found in her behavior. She holds a position of authority so I didn’t feel comfortable confronting her directly but asked guidance from a trusted superior who advised me to report it which I did. As I described what I’d heard and witnessed and the accommodations I’d made to avoid the confrontation I would not be able to restrain much longer, I was scared shitless. Not whether or not I was doing the right thing, but because the last time I reported someone in authority at a former job I held, I was fired.

My point in explaining all of this is because I feel like I shouldn’t have waited to say something. I should have reported it sooner. I should have, but I remained silent. I do not regret speaking out. I only regret that I allowed someone to suffer because I didn’t want to rock the boat. It’s rockin’ now, and I won’t back down not now, not ever again. He doesn’t deserve any less protection because he forgot he had a voice. NOBODY deserves abuse. Absolutely NOBODY!

P.S. This wouldn’t be so short, but I’ve yet to completely process this. I reserve the right to come back to this and revisit it once the processing has completed. (Keep in mind my brain is the 1968 model and may take longer than others.) 🙂

Jedi Garden

Your sugar-coated violence was used

to coax my sympathetic heart back

from where I felt safe

from where I felt protected

from where I felt alive

from where I could be myself

instead of a role that you glued on my back

a role that I allowed to be superimposed

a lampshade to dim my light which shined anyway

Did it ever occur to you

that once you punched me

that once you slapped me

that once you pushed me down

that once you pulled my gun on me

that maybe, just maybe,

you shot me alive

by demonstrating the very reason

I could no longer stay by you

because you’d have destroyed

the very me I’ve become,

a light to guide others through

the loss of their power.

Had you succeeded

the skies would have gone dark

My tears of mourning would have drowned me

I gratefully would have rejoiced in the absence of me.

All Grown Out: TRIGGER WARNING!!!

I was sent a link to this video by a friend of mine. It punched me really hard in the face, but in an inspirational way. I pulled up Word and started writing in time to the video. Some of this isn’t in there, some of it is, but it made me think about reactions and how others deal with trauma.

Every one of my dolls had genitalia
Carved into their bodies
Testament to that 10% I couldn’t see
Of that 100% “friendship” he promised me
And the 90% of his misogyny
Bloomed rottenly
Beneath his alleged kindness
That made my body feel good
But my soul feel dirty, covered in blood
Take your foot off from my neck
But MAN-ipulation made me beg
Without cognition,
For the shame
And guilt to rule me and to reign
PTSD
An unforeseen eulogy,
That mourned what I could never be
I wouldn’t be as stupid as her
I would never wear that
I had to divide my attentions
From those that “came out”
Separating myself from the victims
Because I said repeatedly
“It will never happen to me.”
When it did, I couldn’t say
Because of how they’d see me “that way”
You know him
Not a stranger in the bushes
With a weapon
My boyfriend, husband, acquaintance
Breaking my trust, my faith, my beliefs, my body
And my stunned silence fights back
But there is “Nothing we can do”
Say the police, my friends, my family
That couldn’t happen to me
I wasn’t ready
I said no
I didn’t want it
I put away those dolls from my childhood
Stained with my innocence
Refused by me because they allowed
Me to violate their bodies
Just like mine.