Editor’s note: The identity of the author is protected as a victim of domestic violence.
My cuts and bruises were not those that were visible on my body, but internal, and they were placed there by my husband – the man who was meant to love and protect me.
If you were on the outside looking in, you would have thought I had everything, and in many ways I did. I had the husband, the expensive dog, the big house, and the nice car; I had everything .... in all the ways that did not matter at all.
I spent eight years being stripped of everything I loved - right down to the basic emotions that made me human. I remember looking in the mirror one day and not knowing who it was staring back at me. It’s a frightening realization when you see that you are nothing but a shell of who you once were. I could not laugh without being called childish or immature.
If I cried, I was dramatic and unstable. If I helped others, I was irresponsible and not putting my family first. I could not raise my daughter without hearing that I was a bad mother. He encouraged me to leave behind my home and my family – isolating me from the people who loved me most. I was not allowed to work despite his income barely being enough to pay the bills – any mention of it would end in raging arguments because he believed that only the man should provide. I was not allowed to have a car of my own, leaving me stranded on the days that he needed it, and he made sure to need it often.
There are a hundred stories that I could tell you today, but there is one that changed me to my core and was the catalyst to me realizing that I was living in a nightmare. He refused to provide healthcare for our family, so I never had the ability to go see a doctor. In July 2014, found out I was 6 months pregnant with a baby boy. My husband wanted to celebrate by taking a camping trip. The second morning of our trip, I woke up in terrible pain and bleeding. I asked him to take me into town so that I could get a cell signal to call my midwife. He resisted and said “Why? It’s not like she’ll answer on a Sunday.
You’re fine. You need to stop being irrational.” I was trained well enough to keep my mouth shut. Hours passed and my pain worsened. Too scared to attempt to drive myself anywhere, I asked for his help again and was met with “You really need to stop being dramatic. You probably just have gas. It happens.’’
Several more hours passed and I asked if he would at least take me to get gas pills to see if they would help. He finally gave in. The moment we arrived at Ingles, I was overwhelmed with the worst pain l’d ever felt I guess the scream I let out was enough to finally convince him to drive me to the ER. When I walked through the doors, even those waiting in line to be cared for asked me to go to the front of the line.
Strangers could see what he tried to make me believe was all in my head. They immediately got me changed and into a room, but it was too late. The moment I sat on the hospital bed my water broke, and I was told I was going to lose my son that night. I had to birth a perfectly healthy baby boy, who did not survive. I had to hold my lifeless, beautiful baby boy in my arms. The next day I found out that had we gotten there sooner, a shot could have stopped it.
As horrible as this toxic neglect was, it wasn’t anywhere near the last time. He held a gun toward my mother when she stayed with us to show his dominance. He would threaten to end his life if I ever left him. He placed spyware on my computer so he could combat my attempts at seeking help. He would throw our dog against the wall to scare me.
One evening, he left: our 2-year-old daughter outside on the driveway alone, and I almost hit her with my car. That’s when I knew it had to end. I could not watch another baby die because of his neglect.
I was told about Circle of Hope towards the end, but I didn’t think that what I experienced was worthy of their help ... I know now that this was not the case. I implore you, if you are experiencing violence of any kind – physical or mental or emotional, reach out to Circle of Hope.
There is a team of amazing people waiting to welcome you with open arms and open hearts that will help guide you out of the darkness – I promise there is hope on the other side. Your voice matters. Your babies matter. You matter.