Imagine a husband shoots himself in front of his wife and as she starts to run away, she stops after three steps because she’s wondering if he faked it.
She turns back to verify he actually did it. Sees a mark on his temple, and continues to run.
This kind of behavior seemed like just another day to her — a horrible day, but just another day in the 25-year marriage.
Yet, she only began to consider the label “abused” may apply to her four months later, and began slowly to admit it to other people.
That woman is me.
What is it that kept me from taking on that word? What is it that made me feel like there was no help throughout those 25 years?
It’s the label. It’s the word abused.
What does it actually mean to most people?
It means you are weak, you are stupid, you are not educated and — well, you must like it, because if you didn’t like it, you’d leave, right?
Why is it that help agencies, women’s shelters, use the word ‘abused’ in all their marketing?
I saw the ad for Juniper House, the local shelter, for many years during my marriage, but never thought they were there to help me.
When I see their ads now, they say, “Are you mentally, physically or emotionally abused? We can help.”
No wonder I didn’t think they were for me. Society had taught me what “abused” meant. And I refused to give up my hard-fought-for shreds of dignity. I lived with someone who insulted me — I would not do it to myself.
If you expect us to first accept that label before we can access your help, you are asking too much.
You wanted me to accept the shame that I was desperate to avoid. I was terrified of leaving. I was in denial. But I refused to accept that I was weak, or stupid. I handled more in a day than you would ever want to have to deal with.
I have a degree. I am very smart, I am compassionate, and I am empathetic.
I was there because I am kind and didn’t know the right thing to do. I put others’ needs ahead of my own. I can see the potential in people and don’t realize that they don’t have any intention of living up to it. I would see the pain inside of them that was causing them to behave that way, but not realize that if that same thing was happening to me, I would never hurt people on purpose that way.
Using the word ‘abused’ keeps people from putting up their hands to accept help.
Statistics say that one in four women is abused. I disagree.
Those stats only mean one in four women has put up their hand. Most of us don’t. It’s not common to report anywhere that you are/were abused. You usually leave the relationship and move on.
Those statistics are so far off. It’s sad. It’s really, really wonderful that there are women out there who have never been abused, but it’s far too rare.
More people can be reached, and more quickly, if “abused” is dropped from marketing.
Instead, speak to their symptoms:
- Is your relationship confusing you?
- Is your partner like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?
- Do you have to consider how angry they will be before you do something?
- Do you wish you had your freedom but don’t believe you can easily leave?
Help needs to be given, and it must be confidential.
If you break their confidence and it gets back to their partner, they may end up with broken bones, broken spirit — or dead.
You also need to be gentle. You can’t push. This applies to their friends and loved ones as well as professionals.
Seven years into that 25-year marriage, I had whiplash. Someone told me I should go see a psychiatrist since it would help the case for my claim.
I went and actually did tell him things about the relationship that I had not told anybody. I was selective about what I shared, but it was the most I had told anyone.
I’ll never forget how I felt when, in response to me tentatively opening up, he casually looked at me and said, “He’s controlling you with his temper. You need to leave him.”
It felt like a slap to the face, and I couldn’t wait to get out of there and never go back.
I was 29 years old. I had just opened up about something that I had been keeping to myself for 7 years — and that was his response.
If he had been gentle with me, if he had realized the position I was in and actually worked with me, he might have gotten me out of there before I turned 30.
Instead, I was there for another 18 years.
I have been abused for almost half of my life (there was also a boyfriend earlier in my life).
It has now been 10 years since I got my freedom. I am one of the lucky ones. I did leave him a week before his death.
I was determined not to reach the 25th wedding anniversary in December, married to him, with things going the same way. I could not do that, but I knew I was not going to be free by leaving — and I wasn’t.
The week after I left and he was still alive, trust me, it was anything but freedom.
Freedom came when he died.
There are so many people out there who wish their spouse was dead — not because they want the death of someone else, but because we know they will never let us be free while they are alive.
He never would have let me go. He toyed with me mentally, threatened me, said and did enough things that I knew that