Posted Oct. 03, 2013, at 1:01 p.m.
As an advocate for domestic violence, one of my biggest pet
peeves is when people say, “Why don’t they just leave?” The more
thoughtful questioner doesn’t blame the victim and tries to truly
understand. They ask: What are the reasons that make it difficult to
leave?
I am not just an advocate but a survivor of domestic
violence. My ex-husband could have written the book on abuse. Prior to
meeting him, I was a strong person. I made my own choices and was
fearless.
However, shortly after he moved in, my whole being, my whole
life, changed. We were together for three years before I eventually
left. What’s important to know is that in those three years I tried to
leave one time — before I actually left.
One time was all it took to teach me that my life was on the line if I left him.
The night started out as usual. He began drinking and
started becoming filled with rage. He accused me of cheating on him. It
was really more like interrogation. He repeated the same questions over
and over.
I gave the same answer that I had not cheated on him. And
with each admission that I had done no wrong came violence. His hands
were strong. He would grab my hands and squeeze them until I felt like
he broke my fingers.
He would ask again; I would deny; and then he grabbed my
hair. Twisted it around his hand and pulled me to the floor and put his
knee in the middle of my back.
He asked again if I had cheated, and I said no again. He
pulled me to the bed by my hair and lifted me onto the bed. He asked me
again the same questions, and again I denied what he said.
This time he had a knife, which I didn’t realize he had
hidden in his arm sleeve, and he traced my face with the blade. Full of
fear and full of tears, I assured him I would tell him the truth if he
would just let me go to the bathroom and wash my face. I told him I just
wanted to be calm.
For all the screaming and crying, all I knew was I needed to
leave, or he would eventually kill me. Surprisingly, he let me get up
to go to the bathroom. As I was heading to the bathroom, I ran. I ran
for the door. But he was right behind me with his knife and sliced my
hand open and stabbed me in my forearm. Blood was everywhere.
Even though I had never cheated on him, I told him I did, so
he would stop. I couldn’t go to the hospital. I couldn’t call the
police. I couldn’t do anything. Except tell him what he wanted to hear.
What he told me then I will never forget to this day: “This
is your fault. If you had just told me the truth to begin with, this
wouldn’t have happened. If you lie to me again, if you try to leave
again when I’m talking to you, I will kill you.”
Although this was the first time I tried to leave, it was
not the last time he abused me. His abuse was physical, emotional,
sexual and financial. He even put a knife to my mother and told her,
“She will never leave me.” He put a fear in me that I have never known
in my entire life. His message was clear, and he acted upon it to prove
that he would end my life if I left him.
Eventually I did leave. In October 2008, while he was in
prison, his sister encouraged me to “leave now because this is your only
chance.” It was the first choice I made for myself in three years.
Leaving was not easy. Every day for about two years I waited
for him to come. I was in constant fear that he would kidnap my
children to lure me back. I was always looking over my shoulder and
convinced he would kill me. It is now five years later, and I don’t feel
unsafe any more.
My hope for people reading this is to think the next time
they wonder why someone doesn’t leave. It’s not simple. Leaving doesn’t
end the fear or stop abusers. The reality is people who live within the
walls of abuse do stay. And while it doesn’t make sense to a lot of
people, it makes sense to me.
Billie-Jean Niedorowski is an advocate at
Spruce Run-Womancare Alliance in Bangor. This is the first in a series
of OpEds about domestic violence that will appear during October, which
is Domestic Violence Awareness Month.
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