Many of my childhood days were spent curled up in the recliner with my dad watching "Dateline" episodes. Mysteries have always been our thing. As a policeman, he wanted to know what he was up against in the grand scheme of things and I wanted to be just like him -- to be ahead of and smarter than any obstacle I may later face. I was always fascinated by the ways in which people are tricked into falling to their demise. Domestic abuse is a common theme in murder mysteries and I remember thinking that would never be me. I was too smart to fall into that and thus, I thought myself to be immune to it. I think we are all alike in that way. It always happens to someone else and never to us. This time, I was wrong.
At first, I didn’t think I was being abused because I wasn’t being physically harmed. Hurtful things were often said but no one has ever had to tell me that I’m not the easiest person to get along with, so I thought I was the reason. I was told I was the reason and I was convinced that I was the reason. The abuse crawled into my life in subtle forms at first. Comments like, “you’re a little too big for those shorts” and “can’t you do anything right?” stung when they were said but I was told, and convinced, that they were okay because I was an emotional person who took a lot of things out of context and that I had no sense of humor. As time progressed, the severity of the insults did too. You’re probably thinking, why did you put up with that? The trick is that the abuse didn’t happen every day. In fact, we often went days and weeks at a time in what deceptively seemed like happiness. He would tear me down on Monday but on Wednesday he would buy me roses and on Saturday he would tell me I was the most beautiful girl in the world and take me out to dinner.
When the depression kicked in and I couldn’t clearly identify what was wrong in my life, he amplified the pain and insisted that depression isn’t real. “It is all in your mind. You’re just crazy,” he would tell me as I silently cried myself to sleep at night. So, I didn’t reach out for help and I struggled in silence. “Your friends don’t care about you. I’m the only one that’s always here for you,” he would say as I sat in disappointment over postponed plans. “Your family doesn’t like me,” he would wrongly say after attending a family gathering. Soon enough, he got his way. I was isolated and alone. I severed all of the relationships around me by constantly ditching my family and friends for him.
Going through my phone was a hobby of his and contacts would often “get lost” somehow. You would have thought I spit on the Pope by the way he scolded me for the “lack of manners” I displayed when I texted my worried family and friends back in his presence. I often was accused of staring at men in restaurants and I was told regularly that the things I valued most in my life were meaningless. You name it -- obtaining an education, joining my sorority, going to church -- it was all a waste of time and I was an idiot for pursuing it.
He was very charismatic and even-tempered around others. He still had friends and maintained a close relationship with his family. No one ever picked up on the other side of him and maybe that’s why I convinced myself that I was the reason for it. He would tell me that I was lucky to be with him because no one else ever would want me. A prisoner in my own home, without anyone other than him in my life, crying myself to sleep at night, praying that I would die instead of living another day like the last, and he had the audacity to tell me that I was lucky.
Piece by piece, I recognized that I was immensely unhappy and that I didn’t deserve what I was going through. When I stood up for myself the way I always thought I would, the abuse became physical. I was pushed and yanked around. I was thrown into my own bedroom behind a locked door with my phone and car keys taken “until I came to my senses,” but little did he know, I already had. While I was never directly punched or beaten, the tiny scars that appeared all over my body told my tale. No one ever saw them and no one ever would but I knew them all too well. I was terrified to tell my mom or dad. I was terrified to admit what was going on to my friends who knew too well already.
What I find most terrifying of all is that domestic abuse happens all too often. Among college students alone, 43 percent of dating women report experiencing violent and abusive behaviors from their boyfriend at some point, according to statistics from Love Is Respect. Moreover, Safe Voices' data predicts that one in every four women will experience domestic violence in her lifetime. Besides the obvious emotional and physical pains, domestic abuse has been linked to high rates of substance abuse, eating disorders, and suicide attempts. Most alarmingly, these statistics are not and will not ever be accurate. Love Is Respect statistics also show that “only 33 percent of teens in violent relationships told someone.”
Domestic abuse rears its ugly head in many forms but is most commonly experienced by the means of physical, emotional and verbal harm. I primarily experienced verbal and emotional abuse, which is identified by loss of control, blatant disrespect, degradation, isolation, constant criticism, downplaying accomplishments and name-calling. However, all forms of abuse are equally harmful and should not be taken lightly. If you are experiencing or know of a friend who is experiencing abuse in any way, please seek help from friends, family, coworkers, or whoever you feel comfortable with. In addition, hotlines such as Safe Voices' (1-800-559-2927) are available to anyone at any hour and on any day.
The truth is that I could have never gotten myself out of the volatile mess I was in on my own. I needed support and as bad as it sounds, I needed to be told I was capable because I could not see it for myself. Leaving that toxic relationship was the best thing to ever happen to me. Without the courage to leave, I would have never experienced true happiness or obtained a sense of self-worth. I would have never known what a real relationship feels like, I would probably not be about to graduate college with honors and I would likely not have survived had the abuse continued to escalate as quickly as it did. The man who abused me continues to abuse other females he dates and that is as much proof as I’ll ever need that people who do not see the wrong in their actions do not change.
Now, from the outside looking in, I beg of you please do not let anyone take away the parts of yourself that you cherish the most. No matter what battle you are up against, I hope that you know that you are stronger than you think you are and you are more worthy of happiness than you were ever led to believe. You are a force to be reckoned with and you will overcome. You and resilient and you are more than enough.
