Wednesday, 30 April 2008

I was abused by my father and two older brothers, emotionally, physically, and sexually. We were raised in a strict Roman Catholic household and the mottos were 'children are to be seen and not heard from' and 'do as I say not as I do'.

The biggest problem I have with all this, is their denial that they did anything wrong and their dumping the guilt on me 'as being the problem'.

My oldest brother was killed in an accident two years ago and I was glad because he abused me the worst, using a BB gun in a small room, to scare me into not telling my parents.

Of course that wasn't necessary as the 'boys' could do no wrong in our family. I know I tried to tell my parents but they would not listen. After my brother’s death, I had told my mother that I wanted to talk about what had happened.

She said it wasn't time. I would say a year went by and I mentioned it again and she said it didn't need to be talked about. It is so offensive to 'not be of any importance' to your own flesh and blood parents.

Now my sister is dying of Cancer and there is this pain coming back all over again. She lived with a guy (still is) that sexually abused her oldest daughter. To me, I feel the cancer has a lot to do with her denial.

It seems that all the family is coming to her rescue with this cancer but no one says anything about the daughter's feelings and the fact that she will not be able to get to the funeral (even if she wanted to).

The boyfriend seems like he should not be held accountable either. Actually he thought he could help me with what I had gone through with my brother, because "he knew what happened, changed me".

Yet he will not acknowledge that what he did, changed my sister's daughter. All of this just makes me more angry at everything!!!

bianca

bianca.

London.

My mother left my father when I was a baby. My father came home from work and she was gone. She also left me and my brother behind.

It took my dad a while to track her down but adventualy he did, she agreed to take me and leave my brother.

There was a new male role in my life and that was her new boyfriend but that did not last as he used to beat her. I can still hear his fist again on her body. I think my mum used to take it out on me because I used to get hit a lot by her.

After all that a another man came into her life. I can remember more or less straight away he started to hit me. Mainly on the backs of my legs.

He used to scare me because he would say he was going to hit me when I least expected it. Then the older I got the worse his hitting go.

It would turn into ear pulling ,throat grabbing , arm twisting ,you name it and he did it. it is quiet clear to me now my mum was ok for him to do it as she would witness it from time to time.

As for my mother she never stopped hitting me ,she would hit me over things like having trouble doing my homework or not cleaning something right.

She had a short temper so if she dropped something she would usually hit me. not only did she hit me. She would call me fat and ugly and tell me I was a low life like my dad.she would often threaten me with her partner and tell me when he gets home i would get it.

He usually crept into my room at night and did it then by ripping off my covers and gripping me in some way. I can never remember my mum telling me she loved me.

I never got hugs or kisses and i was always being compared to other people that she thought was better than me.

If I ever had a problem or was in trouble I could never go to her as she would always blame me. She never defended me or supported me, she just showed me nothing but hate.

My mum was very big on cleaning and every saturday morning was the same. Up at the crack of dawn to clean and I would usually get the beating of the week,sometimes she would make my nose bleed or wind me so I could not breath.

I don't think anyone ever suspected a thing because my mum was very good at putting on an act and she used to make people think I was the daughter from hell,by lying to them so if I ever did tell anyone they would not have believed me.

At the age of 10 I was sexually abused by her partner. I was off school and had chicken pox. I was itching from head to toe,he told me to lye on the bed so he could put cream on me.

He took off my knickers and put the ointment in my private parts,at one point it hurt. I told my mum and she said it was ok as he was my dad.

But he could never be my dad as I love my dad and i know my real dad would never harm me in any shape or form.my dad has a lot of guilt because he feels that he could have been a better dad,but I'm not angry at him,I love him.

My mum's husband would often watch me in the crack of the door while I got change. I remember once he waited till I took off my tights then came into my room and beat me on the back of the legs with a belt,I still don't know until this day why.

When I turned 17 I was told to leave and I had nowhere to go. I got into the wrong crowd of people and I started to sleep with guys who
really did not care for me.

I just wanted to be loved and in a way I felt like having sex I was getting that love. But now I know I was being used.my dream was to always have a baby.

I think that I wanted something of my own to love my wish came true and I now have a son and am pregnant with a baby girl.

I'm excited for the future because I know I could never hurt any of my kids the way my mum hurt me. I always compare myself to my mum and I always try never to do things the way she did, even down to little things like wear my hair the same.

I don't have a real shonship with her any more as i had to let go and except that she will never be the mother I want her to be,as for her partner that abused me, well he's gone and she's with someone else now.

A child who was abused.

My father is a good looking tall man with dark hair and greenish eyes. His appearance was very important to him and he took great care in his dress and toilet.

He also enjoyed doing cruel things to his three daughters whom he said he owned outright. He kicked my baby sister(2years old) in the stomach. He called her over to him and she was so surprised to get attention from him. She toddled over to him with a big smile on her face. He then kicked her in the stomach and then when she began sobbing he took her picture with his instant camera and put the picture in the family photo album.

Some say that he was just doing what he knew by kicking my little sister, a parent just doing the best with the knowledge he had at the time, but I don't think so. He hurt her in a premeditated and deliberate way, with no alcohol involvement, no drug involvement. It was in the middle of the day, a Saturday.

My father made my older sister and I fight in the livingroom, like two pitbull dogs. He made us hurt eachother while he watched. He would smile and then end the games.

He enjoyed having power over us. He enjoyed humiliating us. We are humans and he treated us like we were nothing. He would tell me that he had no tolerance for pain and would cry if he struck his thumb with a hammer. He often lamented about his own sorrows and cried for himself.

You know, some people are just evil and when they have the opportunity to have total power over vulnerable innocents, they strike. My father was and is an evil man in my opinion.

I divorce him as my father because of the evil things he has done; the beatings, the terror. Some people take advantage of their role as parent and take advantage of the child who wants the parent to love them....but remember God's words, "Can a women forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yea, they may forget, yet I will not forget thee. Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands

Utah

Utah.

I grew up with a cold unloving mother. Looking back on my early childhood, all I remember about her is that she made us food and we were always clean with our hair combed. Physically, we were well taken care of. Emotionally, I do not remember any hugs, I love you's, or many words of encouragement.

I remmeber trying to be funny sometimes and her telling me that I wasn't nice. When I got older it got worse because looking back, I probably was beginning to act out due to the love that was lacking in my life. My mom told me on 2 occasions how she had over heard adults saying how much they dislike me.

When I came home from school she would immediately start yelling at me to get me to start cleaning. Even if I had a bad day at school there was not a lot of comfort in coming home. There was nobody to talk to about my problems and if I told her that someone had done something to hurt me she would immediately assume I must have done something to deserve it. I do not recall a single incident that she stuck up for me.

As I grew a bit older I felt I had to hide all emotions and that nobody, especially my family, could see me cry. One day she broke down in tears telling me she had always treated me different due to a medical abortion she had to have because she became pregnant too soon after I was born and there were complications with the pregnancy and she blamed me thus treating me differently from the time I was a baby. I am not sure if she was trying to help me or hurt me but that only validated my feelings of being unwanted and unloved.

I desperately wanted a boyfriend who would love me but could never find one although many considered me quite attractive. Every time I saw the first star of the night, I would wish for a boyfriend and every time I blew out all my candles I would wish for a boyfriend.

In case you have not noticed, I have not mentioned my father. Yes, I have one, yes they are still married. Physically I have a father, emotionally I do not. He was physically abusive when he was mad at me. He would completely lose control on me. One night after a party with his friends, he came home depressed and asked me why I cannot be more like his friend's daughter. I wondered the same thing myself. Why couldn't I be warmer and more outgoing and more talkative. Of course I summed it up to me being a loser but looking back it is obvious now. Now that I know the affects of emotional abuse.

Well, I began experimenting with drugs and alcohol and my quest to find a boyfriend to love me became a little easier. My first kiss was a 19 year old scumbag and I was only 15. I was drunk. Romantic. Not the way I pictured it to be. Then there was this guy that I truly did have feelings for who was pretty decent (for a girl like me at that time), but my inability to allow myself intimacy ruined that for me. We only kissed when we were drunk. When we were sober he was nice enough to take me out on dates (nicer than most of the guys I knew), but when he would try to kiss me I would freeze and one time we were in the car and he went to kiss me and I opened the door an leaned out the door pretending to be sick. Then came that day that I had so long been waiting for. The day he asked me to be his girlfriend and I blew it. I was so shocked and scared that I ignored him and he never asked me again. Soon after, he got a girlfriend. At work there was this illegal immigrant who tried very hard to win my attention and he won it. He hugged me and I melted. For once in my life someone wanted me and held me and hugged me. Due to his lack of U.S. citizenship I had to keep him a secret from my family. It was almost like I was using him for affection. We did have intercourse and always used protection until one day I was on my period and "wanted to know what it was like" to do it with out a condom. I found out what it was like and also found out I get pregnant very easily. Before I took the pregnancy test we talked about adoption and how I would move away and then have the baby and yada yada yada. I meant every word from the bottom of my heart. That was before I knew the result of the test. I took the test and it had 2 lines. To me that meant negative. 2 negatives, right? We then read the instructions and were shocked to find out that 2 lines mean positive. He asked me what I wanted to do and without hesitation I said I am getting an abortion and that is what I did. So, there I was with another rotten egg in my basket hence I felt like a very rotten person and continued self destructive behaviour to the point where I believe I almost died. One night I smoked pot, then downed some hard liquor then someone offered me a line of coke and then someone else offered me some mushrooms. I obliged. The turning point in my life was a night filled with lines of some sort of white powder combined with a lot of alcohol and a guy who claims I had been promising to "hook up" with him for months now and when I didn't have any interest in that with him he left me in this little casino town called Wendover, NV.

He did eventually come back for me and we had a silent 2 hour drive home then I never saw him again. The next day I looked down at my arm and saw a nice cigarette burn on my forearm. Finally, a wake up call for me. I found religion and soon after that I found my husband and we have a very nice relationship and beautiful toddlers. I pour all of my heart and soul into those boys. They are the light of my life. When they are grown I know there will be at least one thing they will know. Their mommy always loved them very deeply and always showed it. My marriage is pretty good. We are pretty good friends and I do love him, however, I do have some intimacy problems with him and I think I will get counciling soon for that but there is no doubt in my mind or anyone else's that he loves me dearly and we will always be together. I feel like my life is pretty normal now and I do feel I have pretty much overcome most of my problems. By the way..my mom is in my life now. Now that I have her grandkids. Go figure. Even that evokes a bit of anger in me, but I guess my need for a mother in my life overrides it.
p.s. I was also terrorized by my older brother and physically and emotionally abused by him. I feel like after my rock bottom moment, when I changed my life, I became a new person. All my problems in the past were no longer affecting me like they once did. I feel I did not make this change on my own. I really felt the presence of the Lord during my time of transition. I believe he helped me become the person I am today despite things I have had to overcome.

Child Abuse

Child Abuse.

You hear so many stories of children being abused by their family's its so cruel and it must stop. Also about children used for porn and children being bullied at school lets get together and stop this abuse.
Here are some True stories.

Catherine's story

When you have been hit you think, my God, this is cold-blooded, controlling, calculating stuff. You think, how can I be in this situation? But you want to make it work. You love this person and you think it must be your fault, and he tells you it is. He's attractive and successful, people think he's wonderful, he's earning lots of money. You think, it must be me. How come I do this to him?

When I finally told him to leave he was furious. I'd never seen him so angry. He pushed me back on to the sofa and hit me again and again and again. Then he grabbed me by the hair - it was long in those days - and dragged me upstairs to our bedroom. He disappeared and when he came back he had a knife. I've never been more scared than I was at that moment.

Thankfully the neighbours had heard me screaming and called the police. Henry stormed out but that wasn't the end of it. For the next few months he stalked me. Twice he followed me back to the house, forced his way in and raped me. He also threatened to kill me.

The turning point came for me when I contacted Refuge. I admitted to someone for the first time that I was in trouble. It was that admission that was enormously helpful and gave me somewhere to start. From then on I knew I would cope.

True Stories

True stories

Janet's story

The first few weeks that I was with Peter were wonderful. He was affectionate, considerate, fun to be with and a great boost to my self-esteem. But as soon as I moved in with him the violence began. I was frightened and shocked but he was always so sorry for what he had done and promised never to hurt me again.

He became very jealous and possessive. He kept accusing me of having an affair but I just thought he was feeling insecure. I felt sorry for him. I believed I could change him. Then he turned against my family and friends and tried not to let me see them. I broke up with him more than once but he was always so sorry for what he'd done that I took him back.

I thought his attacks on me must somehow be my fault. I found myself asking 'What have I done to deserve this? Why am I making him so mad that he has to treat me this way?' I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone what was happening. I was embarrassed and couldn't help thinking it was my fault.

Peter was cunning. No matter how hard he hit me, he was always careful never to mark my face. My family realised what was happening and wanted me to call the police but I couldn't press charges. I was terrified.

Then one day, Peter stabbed me in the face with a fork. I started screaming and tried to back away but he just kept stabbing me with it. I tried to run away but he followed me and picked up a glass and chucked it at me. I was bleeding and in agony with a shard of glass stuck in my side but Peter just picked up his keys and walked out.

I called an ambulance that took me to the hospital where they stitched me up. This time I did find the strength to go to the police and they put me in touch with Refuge. I knew I had no choice. If I had gone back to Peter, I might not be here today. I finally saw him for what he was - a menace who used violence to control me.

Slowly I am starting to rebuild my life and my confidence. I have left the Refuge house to move into my new flat, a place I hope where Peter will never find me. I still suffer from headaches and I don't sleep well. I am cautious of everyone, particularly men and it will be hard for me to trust enough to form another relationship. Nothing will change what happened to me but I know that with time I can learn to live again. My life is getting better every day and I know I've done the right thing.

Domestic Violence Personal Story

Domestic Violence Personal Story.

My name is Linda and I started having a bad life at 18. I met what I thought was a wonderful man. He was one of my bosses from work. He was so kind to me at fist. We would spend lovely times together just having fun. I seemed important to him; at least I thought I was.

After we were dating for about 2.5 months I found out I was pregnant and I wanted no more children. I already had a son and I was too young for him but another would have been havoc. So I told Joe that I wanted to terminate the pregnancy and that is when it all started.

He kept me home and fired me from my job. For the 1st time he hit me right across the face because I said I was leaving him. He dragged me into the dept. store and said we are going shopping so stop crying like a baby. He acted like it was nothing and I knew it was wrong but I did as I was told. I was 18 and he was 31. I thought an older man would be better for me but I was wrong!

The hitting became beatings almost every day. Even though I was pregnant, he did not care. He said, "If you were a good girl I wouldn't have to discipline you so much." I hated hearing that. Be a good girl- that was screwed up ya' know?

I had my daughter and I thought it would help us but it didn't. It just meant that I was stuck with him. The black eyes and busted lips and bruised body was all I knew and he was taking my heart too. I was no longer living near my parents and I was forbidden to have friends or should I say a life?

Two years later I became pregnant and I was not at all happy with that. But of course I had to stay pregnant. It cooled him down a little and he always said he was sorry. I hated my life and I wanted it to end but I had children whom I loved and I couldn't leave them. That is what keeps me alive. I tried to get help from my dad but he said THAT I MADE MY BED NOW - lay in it!! That hurt so much because I thought daddies were there to help when you needed them most.

My father was angry with me because I had children and he said it was my fault I put myself in that type of position. My mom couldn't even help me she could barely take care of herself. So as my pregnancy progressed he was a little nicer to me- we had twins now. That was the worse news to me. I kept thinking how am I going to leave with 4 kids.

I paid for a tubal ligation so I couldn't have any more children with him. I started saving a dollar here and a dollar there so I could escape my hell with my children. I remember one day that I told him I hated him with every bone in my body. He hit me so hard I went flying at least 10 feet across the bed and onto the floor. Blood dripping from my mouth, I just smiled and said, "Are you done?" I was so tired of him hitting me and controlling me as a person that I had had enough!

He started hitting me some more and I didn't back down. He finally walked away. The days went by and I would get hit because I didn't vacuum first then dust. The house was not clean enough or there was a fork in the sink I would get slapped again. He made excuses to hit me. So I bided my time till I could leave.

A few years later I was going to be gone within a few months then I found out I was pregnant again. I was floored because I paid to be fixed. Well I was that 1% that could get pregnant. So I stayed until my last child was 1 and a 1/2 and I packed my things and left.

I left the children behind because I couldn't care for 5 children. I took the oldest child with me because he was mine and not his. I became a stripper to care for my son and we did fine and I thought I would finally be free of violence. I loved my new life of no more long sleeved shirts or pants to cover the bruises.

Then I met James and he swore he would never hit me and he didn't for 1 1/2 years. Then one day I was out riding my bike and I pulled into the front yard and he was yelling and all of a sudden I fell down. He had hit me in the face so hard I had lost my balance. I still do not know why he hit me that day he never told me.

I stayed with him for a few more months hoping it was a mistake and it would never happen again. But I was wrong again. I let him move in with me in hopes of a good relationship. It did not last long.

One night I went out with my friends like I always did on Fridays and when I got home he yelled and screamed at me for being out while he was working. I basically told him he needed to leave because it was not working out then he hit me across the face a couple of times. I got up and ran for the phone to call for help. He pulled it out of the wall. He kept saying why are you making me do this to you? He grabbed my hair and was dragging me into the bedroom and I knew what that meant from experience I began to scream for help.

My son heard me and I hollered to him to get the neighbors and he did. He saved my life. James was arrested and given 1.5 years and no contact. I moved after that. We were over and I was over with men at least I thought I was.

Then one day my friend introduced me to a handsome sweet intelligent man and I fell for him hard. I was tired of being put down and bruised but my girlfriend assured me that he was good. She lied! He was worse than the other two put together. It was pure hell and I didn't realize what pain really was till I was with Jeff. He hit me every day even if he woke up in a good mood. I hated life and everyone in it. I thought that this is how my life was meant to be so I stayed for 6.5 years till I couldn't take it no more.

He would call my job all of the time and make me bring home a register receipt to prove what time I left. He held a gun to my head and said, If you want to die, let's do it." He would hit me in the face all of the time. Everyone at my job knew he was mean but no one would help me. Finally after he broke my windshield for the 3rd time I left and moved 20 minutes away and transferred to another store. He found me once again.

He called us all hours of the night yelling nasty things to myself and my roommate. He threatened her a lot and finally after 6 months of calls I finally agreed to see him in hopes of it being the last time. I was hoping that he had realized that after 6.5 years of hate he would finally end it and be civil. I wanted him to go on with his life so I could without him. I wanted to stop looking over my shoulder and my dreams would stop keeping me up at night. I wanted sleep again. I wanted to smile again. I wanted to be ME again.

He invited me to his birthday party so I figured I would be safe. I was so tired from working 18 hours straight but I made it to the party and there was other people there so I was ok with it. He was drinking and taking Librium pills the next door neighbor got him. I should have known to leave but I didn't.

I fell asleep on the couch and I awakened to him standing over me just looking at me in a confused look. I asked him what he was doing and he grabbed my throat and said, "you think you can just walk away from me. No you can't." I froze for a moment because I had this strange feeling rush over me and I can't completely describe it but it was scary. I knew then if I didn't get away from him I would die! I knew it and I didn't know how but I was terrified beyond belief. I pushed him off and ran for the door. He got up and chased me and it started a fight because I was determined to win this one. He grabbed my hair and pulled and yanked it hurt so bad that I could barely stand the pain. I wrapped my arms around the railing of the outside steps and held on for life. My arms began to bleed from scraping the wood rail back and forth but I held on.

He finally got me loose and I fell to the top step with my face down hoping to pass out. I knew I had to stay alive and that meant staying awake. He grabbed my head and began pounding it into the top step. It hurt and all I could do was cry and fight back. I saw blood dripping onto the step and I knew I had to be bleeding from my face now. It was a mess all over the steps. He yanked me up and I dropped to the steps again and he kept telling me to get up and get inside and I kept yelling for help. No one listened. He grabbed my hair and dragged me inside and I grabbed the doorway in hopes of tiring him out because I was tired. I dug my nails into the wood frame around the door making my fingers bleed and nails breaking from the pressure I could no longer hold on. I was now inside and he picked me up and threw me up against the wall calmly talking to me saying that we were soul mates and we had to be together. He said that our lives, especially his, was not going to be wasted by me. I owed him and I say I owed him nothing! We fought some more hitting each other profusely not taking a breath. I pushed him away and he fell over the end table he looked up and then unscrewed the table and came at me again and caught me right across the nose. I felt dizzy and out of it.

I remember saying to myself if there is a God, please help me. I will never doubt Your existence again. I never believed in God until that night. Jeff kept hitting me and made me walk the house with him. Finally I had him convinced that we would marry tomorrow. He stopped. He brought me into the kitchen to wipe my face off because he said I was a mess. He told me to go shower and change into some of his pajamas and we would watch our favorite movie. I agreed. I rushed upstairs and got into the shower and cried so hard it hurt. I looked down at the water and it was red all red. That's all I could see and I cried even more. My face hurt so much that I couldn't bring myself to look at it. I got out of the shower and dried off quickly and ran down stairs. He laid on the couch babbling about how I made him do that to me. He made me make a promise to be good and to marry him. I was to obey him forever and we would never be apart again.

I waited for him to fall asleep. It was midnight so that meant we had been fighting for 1 hour. I was so tired and dizzy but all I could think of was getting out. I waited for him to snore so I would know he was asleep. I went to the back door and unlocked the first lock 2 more to go. I waited a little while longer and opened another then another then I ran out the door as quickly as I could run. I ran down the steps and didn't look back. My feet were bleeding from running down the rocky driveway. All I could think was getting help.

I ran across the street to a neighbor's house it was 3:30 in the morning. I tapped on his window and begged for him to let me in. He opened the door and let me in we called the police and it was now over for me and him. I thank the Davidson county police of Tennessee for all their help. I get to live again. I am now 36 years older and am finally happy. I forgot what it was like to breathe on my own again. I haven't seen Jeff in 3 years and I keep track of him. He is still in jail and I have found someone who is the best thing in my life besides my children. 3 times is a charm - no the 4th is!!!!

I'm your basic middle class male who was raised to respect women and never hit them. I consider myself a good provider and who has had some success after my hard work has paid off with my authoring 2 best selling books and having sold a self-started company. I work hard and am a decent man. I am also one of those in total disbelief this would ever happen to me.

I hate the term battered man, I'm a DV survivor. And I can say the system (judicial, police, legal, local and state government agencies) does virtually nothing to help a man survive when they're on the receiving end of a female sociopath's attacks. In fact, the system has, in some ways, injured me more than my ex wife ever could.

My wife slapped me hard after I said no to her wanting to get donor sperm in order to get pregnant. Keep in mind her fertility doctor said there were NO physical problems with either of us to prevent her from getting pregnant. Keep in mind we'd only been trying for 4 months, but she felt entitled and was willing to beat anyone down who got in the way.

After I confronted her about her having no right to lay a hand on me and my fear of what she would do to our future children, she replied, "if you're going to get your tiny feelings in a bunch over a little slap, you need to keep going to therapy TO WORK ON YOUR PROBLEMS."

I packed and left immediately. Ironically, the day she slapped me for not allowing her to become pregnant using other men's sperm, was Mother's Day.

I later intercepted a written letter where my wife agreed with her friend's idea to "have a child and then dump me". The letter also detailed how to catch my sperm in a condom for insemination without my knowledge.

When I confronted her with the note, she just shrugged like, "there's nothing you can do about it, pal." I keep the letter to remind me why I'm divorcing my wife.

Later, my wife body slammed my 67 year old, 4'11" mother into a mirrored closet door bruising my mother's knee. Subsequent x-rays revealed my mom also suffered a nearly fractured finger as my wife ripped my mom's camera from her hands. We were taking pictures at my house to prevent my wife from destroying more of my personal property. Is this how your mother should be treated by your wife?

As we both left my own house being pushed, shoved, and attacked, my father in law arrived and started to push and goad me into punching him.

We left without touching anyone and called the police when we were safe in my car. The police arrived and did not call an ambulance for my mom, did not recommend any of the numerous government and legal resources available ( i.e. restraining orders, etc) and downgraded the event to a "property dispute."

Further, the police threatened me by saying, "if you return, sir, we will arrest you for trespassing." Keep in mind, this is my own house where I'm on the deed. Four counts of assault and battery/DV with pictures, doctor's reports, and witnesses, but no arrests or convictions.

Do you think there's a problem with the system if you're male and subject to domestic violence from your wife?

No? - Imagine if the situation was reversed: the husband slapped his healthy wife for not having a child after 4 months of trying, shrugged off a written letter found by his wife where the husband agreed with his buddy about dumping his wife after tricking her to get pregnant, beat his wife's mother badly enough to require x-rays, and called his father to assault his young wife on the front lawn for the neighborhood to see.

Do you really believe the police and the courts would have treated that case in the same way?

Not a chance. The husband and his father would be in jail while paying for damages, and the wife and mother would be celebrated as domestic violence survivors on Oprah.

If you're like me, who's trying to protect your rights and your family by blood from a crazy wife, and an even crazier system, take heart. You are not alone.

Tell your story, and do what you can to take care of what's important. Things will change.

P.S. To those that may not believe me, I can understand. You probably haven't experienced anything like this in your life. I probably wouldn't have believed it fully until I heard my mother scream in pain from my wife's attacks, saw the hard evidence of pictures and medical reports, and felt the pain in my gut of doing the right thing by asking the system for help, and having the system turn right around and try to prosecute the innocent victims for crimes they did not commit.

It does happen, and the system does not work.

I Am A Survivor

In the summer of 1996, I met a guy and we knew each other for about three weeks, and then he moved in with my son and I. And he was good to my son and I, he bought me cards and flowers every day and this went on for three months. One day I went to the grocery store and I had been gone about an hour and when I got home Eddie was furious with me. Eddie slammed me down on the couch, causing me to hit my head on the piano.

Eddie told me that when I go to the store I only had ten minutes to do the shopping and get home. When I would go visit my mom and dad I could only stay for ten minutes. I couldn't go have coffee with them in the mornings like I always had done. When I was gone longer than ten minutes Eddie would start pushing me around and he would grab my upper arm and drag me to the bedroom, that's where he always would start beating on me. Eddie would bruise my arm every time he grabbed me like that.

I had this bowling activity one night a week and it would take two and a half hours to bowl and I had to get home right after I was done. Well one night I was a half hour late getting home because I went over to see my mom and dad and when I got home Eddie grabbed me by the arm once again and off to the bedroom, he threw me down on the bed and held me there and then he started head butting me. This happened several times. Eddie always told me I'd better not ever hurt him. I bent over backwards for him so he wouldn't beat me up. But it was never good enough for him. Eddie was never happy unless he was beating me up. As time went on things got worse. When I would go to work Eddie would call my place of work several times during the day to check up on me. Eddie told me I wasn't to talk to any of my co-workers. On day Eddie come to pick me up from work and I was talking to my manager, and it was a guy. When we got home he started knocking me around again. Every time he got done with me he would always say he was sorry and he would never do this again. Eddie always begged me for another chance and I would. When Eddie would go to work and I had the day off I had to sit by the phone, I couldn't go visit my parents, because he called every five minutes to see if I was there, and if I wasn't he would leave work to come check on me. Eddie would make up stories just so he would have a reason to beat me up or call me names when he got home. Eddie called me one day and asked me what a blue truck was doing in my drive way and I no idea what he was talking about so when I told him there was not a truck in my drive way he would start beating up on me. Eddie always called me a liar, a slut and a bitch. Eddie always told me he had someone watching my every move, and when I would come home and he had told me some of the places I had been that day I really thought someone was watching me, and then I really began to get scared. Eddie always accused me of cheating on him and when I denied it he would slap me around again. One morning I got up to go to work, Eddie got and started a fight with me, and when I left for work about ten minutes later he called and said he cut his hand and had to go to the hospital, I asked him how he cut his hand and he wouldn't tell me. I told him I couldn't get off to take him to the hospital then he hung up on me. About fifteen minutes later here comes into my place of work demanding I take him to the hospital so I gave him the keys to the truck so he could take him self. When I got home from work I found out how he cut his hand, he the mirror in the bathroom and broke it.

Eddie also always told me If I hurt him he was going to take my truck and drive off of Dead Horse Point, National Park. Eddie told me I would have his mother to answer too, as to why he drove off of Dead Horse Point. Eddie told me it was my fault for him beating me up. As time went on I was getting really scared for my life and by this time I was really so far in that I was afraid to kick him out. I talked to my sister and she told me if I was to kick him out to call the cops for back up, and I told her that he would never hurt me, that was not the truth because he had been hurting me all along.

I couldn't go to my family about what was happening because he told me he would go after them if I ever told them what was happening. So to save them I had to keep quiet.

Eddie cut me off from my family and my friends and I didn't know why at first, then I figured it out, Eddie was afraid I was going to talk about what was really happening to me, this was a threat to him. Eddie was afraid I was going to find out about his past and get rid of him. Well I did find out about his past after he nearly killed me. I was out side talking to my neighbor and I had been out there for about thirty minutes and Eddie came out and told me

I had a phone call and I told him I didn't hear the phone ring and he made up some story as to why I didn't hear the phone, so I went in to answer the phone and I get in the house and there was no one on the phone, he told me they hung up. Eddie used this type of stuff to get me away from anyone I might confide in. One day Eddie called me at work several times and I didn't want to talk to him. My managers told him I was busy and I couldn't talk, well he got mad and walked down to my place of work and when I saw him coming I told my boss I didn't want to talk to him and my boss sent me to the office. Eddie stormed in and demanding my boss to come get me. When my boss told him no, Eddie stormed back to the office, and my boss followed him and told him to leave but he wouldn't. Eddie got in my boss's face and threatened him. Eddie wanted the keys to the truck and I wouldn't give them to him and he got madder and madder so I gave him the keys so he would leave and leave me alone.

On October 31, 1996, I was dressing my son up to take him out trick or treating and Eddie kept asking me how long are you going to be gone and I told him I didn't know. Eddie told me not to get in a car with my mom, he kept telling me she would have me put away so I couldn't be with him and I told him no she wouldn't, but he said it so many times he had himself believing it. My mom and I took my son out and we were gone about and hour and a half. So when we got home here comes Eddie out from no where he was really really angry and demanding to know where I was, he saw me getting out of my mom's car. I told him we had taken my son around to some homes. My son had just gone into the bowling alley before all of this started taking place. Eddie had hit the hood on my truck he had been calling my parent's house the whole time we were gone. Eddie said let's go home now. My mom had asked me if I was going to be all right and I said yes I will be all right and I will call you in a little bit. Eddie hated it when I would talk to my parents he was really nervous about me telling what was really going on in my house. Eddie would never talk about his past then I was really scared of what kind of person he really was. Eddie would go through my mail, I had no idea what he was looking for. Eddie is a real possessive and jealous person and very very controlling.

In November of 1996 my dad bought a bus ticket for Eddie and bused him down to Texas to get him out of my life, because my mom and dad knew he was really going to hurt me and I was blind to it. Eddie called and said he bought a bus ticket to Colorado and asked me if I would pick him up and bring him back and I did, little did I know what was going to happen. I thought some time away he would change but it didn't the beatings started again.

On February 10, 1997 I got up and went to work, normal every day routine. When I got to work everything seem to be cool. To my knowledge there were no phone calls and I went on about my work. When I got home every thing seem ok there to. At 7:00 p.m. I got a call from my dad and he asked me to come over to his house because we had to talk and I told him I would be right there, I hung up the phone and Eddie asked me who that was and I said it was my dad and he asked me what he wanted and I said he wants to talk to me, and Eddie begged me not to go and I told I had to go talk to dad. Eddie told me I better be home in a half hour and I said ok. I got over to dad's house and dad told me Lori who was my general mngr. said Eddie called my place of work that day ten times. And Lori was going to have to let me go if I didn't take care of this situation, my job was on the line because of Eddie. Well I wasn't going to choose Eddie over my job so I told my dad I was going home to kick him out. Well I had been there for a half hour and the phone starting ringing off the hook, and I just about jumped out of my skin and my dad could tell I was nervous so when we got done talking I had gone over to the bowling alley to visit my friends because I knew what was going to happen when I got home. I told my sister I was going to kick him out and she said I better call the cops and I told her I would be all right. It was 8:20 p.m. and I went back over to the house to tell my dad that I was going home. Dad asked me if I wanted him to come over with me and I said no that I had to do this and he said ok. It is now 8:30 and I got home and when I crossed this street with a four way stop I look up the street to see if any cars were coming and I saw Eddie he started walking down to my parents house and when he turned and saw me on my way home he was here in less than five minutes. He asked me what we talked about and I told him and he said my boss was a fat lying bitch. Eddie then said to me what are you going to do about it, I told him I wanted him to move out. Eddie then grabbed my are like always and dragged me to the bedroom and threw me down on the bed, and then Eddie went to the kitchen and I heard the drawer open but I didn't know what he was doing and by this time I was really scared so I picked up the phone by my bed to call my dad and I just as I started to dial the number and Eddie came back into the bedroom and looked me in the eye and said (I quote) I told you to never hurt me and when I turned around he was standing there with a knife. When I tried to get away he swung the knife down-wards cutting me on my left chest and I turned my back to him and I felt the knife going in, after Eddie stabbed me he went out the back door and threw the knife over the fence and at this time I had a chance to call my dad and I was so hysterical I didn't get to tell him Eddie stabbed me, dad hung up and he and my sister were there in about five minutes. Eddie came back in and said let's call 911 and I told him to get the hell away from me and to never touch me again. Eddie went out the front door and I followed him out so I could see which direction he was going to run. I stepped out on the porch in a bloody white sweat shirt and my dad fought Eddie to the ground and the cops arrived at that time. Eddie used a 10 inch boning knife on me. The cops called for an ambulance and then I was transported to the hospital, I arrived there at 9:00 p.m. and they had to stitch up the wound on my back, and then they had to put a chest tube in, I was in ER for an hour and a half they had to take pictures of my wounds and doctor all of the wounds. The hospital staff told me they had to air lift to a hospital in Colorado. At 11:30 p.m. Air Life flew me to Colorado and I arrived at that hospital at 2:00 a. m. I was in there for a week. I was released on February 14, four days later.

Eddie was sentenced to no less than 1 year and no more than 15 years in prison, he served nine months and then he came up for parole, I wrote letter's to the Board of Pardons and I also appeared at the hearing. Eddie got two years. In the mean time Eddie messed up and he got another year. Eddie was released from prison on February 13, 2001. I asked the Board of Pardons to banned Eddie from the town I live in. I also requested electronic monitoring, and was paroled to Texas. I Still track his case, I know in my heart the more interest I take in keep on top of things the more support I get from the Board of Pardons and the Law.

Stop The Violence

Stop The Violence

She was a shell
Empty and alone
Where could she go?
Who could she tell?

Was easier to stay
To accept defeat
Everyone told her
That's the way it should be.

They all looked away
and left her alone
they turned their heads
to any broken bones

They told her to be strong
for that was the plan
Her only goal
should be to please her man

She did her best
She gave it her all
When asked "What happened?"
She said
"Oh, Just a fall"

Years went by
she learned to adapt
she learned how not
to make him mad

She learned how to please
Just what to say
She learned to make sure
HE had a good day

Those looking on could not see?
Would not see?
The pain that was so deep inside of me
Was it easier to just look away?

Distance and time
closed for me
there was a hand that
could be reached

A hand with a face
from the past
A hand that only for a
short time would last

I held on to that hand
with all my might
I pulled myself up
I learned how to fight

A year has past
And now I see
just how wonderful
life should be

Three abused women find way out

Three abused women find way out.

Three women from different places, different jobs, different backgrounds.

They have two things in common: They were beaten, and despite the danger of leaving a violent partner, they got out.

The women don't know each other, but when they talk about domestic violence, they speak with the same voice.

All three said they were "brainwashed," that the physical and emotional abuse left them believing that they deserved it, that they were the ones at fault, not the abuser.

All three lost their identity and their independence - so completely, in some instances, that they couldn't order for themselves in a restaurant or figure out how to spend a Saturday.

All three came to accept that they can't change someone else, that they can only change themselves.

The women also echoed one another in recalling what it took to get out.

First you have to find yourself, they said. Then you have to back your words up with action. You have to believe that you deserve better.

The women share one more thing: Today, all three are happy and healthy.

JeriAnn learned to endure the hitting, the kicking, the choking, the verbal and emotional abuse.

But the reddish-blue bruises across her little girl's thigh - the size and shape of a man's handprint - pushed her over the top.

I have to get myself out of this, she said to herself. I have to get my children out of this.

It was 1987, in a small town near Portland.

JeriAnn had been married for seven years. She was the mother of two curly-haired girls, 5 and 3 years old; a boy would come later.

Her husband wasn't abusive at first, just controlling. But over the years, the control turned into black eyes and split lips - weekly attacks that she accepted, because she thought she had done something wrong to provoke them.

A vicious fight one night ended with JeriAnn at a friend's. When she returned home in the morning, she checked on her 5-year-old, who had stayed in the house with her husband.

The girl pulled back her plaid skirt and showed the bruises; she had been struck for asking her father why he couldn't stop drinking.

"I just started crying," JeriAnn said. "I realized this wasn't just affecting me. This was affecting my kids. I decided at that time, I'm out."

Through a Christian support group, JeriAnn devoured material on codependency, coming to realize that the abuse had replaced her identity - her sense of self - with blind obedience to her husband.

She confronted her pain in excruciating counseling sessions - "like peeling your skin off from the inside out," she said - and a new woman eventually emerged.

"I decided I didn't have to have a man in my life," JeriAnn said. "Being a single mom felt pretty darn good."

For the first time, she started backing up her words with action.

She called her county's victims' assistance program and learned what the law could do to protect her. She received a restraining order and began the divorce process; when he violated the order she called the police. She got a guard dog and a handgun.

She wanted answers to her questions about divorce, domestic violence, personal safety. The more she shared, the more people offered to help.

He fought her for two years, stalking her while he also delayed or missed court dates; he sent her notes that read, "I love you." But as the divorce played out in 1990, he started another relationship and moved on.

JeriAnn, of west Eugene, is 45 now. She's an elementary school secretary who relishes working with kids and parents, especially the troubled ones. She is strong but affectionate, with a calm, confident gaze to match her propensity for giving hugs.

In December, she'll celebrate 13 years of marriage to a man who treats her like a queen. He's her best friend; he writes poems and hides them for her to find later.

Her younger daughter is a college student studying to become a nurse. The son is a student and athlete at Willamette High School.

And the 5-year-old? She's 22 now, recently married to a good man, JeriAnn said.

Sometimes she has to pinch herself.

"My normal life to me is a pretty good dream," she said. "It was gut-scratching hell to climb out of the hole. I'm lucky I made it out. It's so good now, sometimes I forget the past."

Desiree found salvation at a New Age bookstore in a small California town.

At 17, she had been an independent thinker, a strong student who challenged the deferential roles relegated to women in her branch of the Baptist faith. She peppered her Sunday school teachers with questions that made them squirm.

Marriage changed her. She married at 23, to a man she'd dated in high school - the first man she'd ever dated, the first she'd ever kissed.

There were ominous signs, but she missed them: He burned with anger if she so much as talked to another man, but she mistook it for love.

"When he got really jealous and upset, I thought to myself that he must really love me if he can't stand for another man to look at me or talk to me," Desiree said.

During 10 years of marriage, the abuse escalated. He was careful not to blacken her eyes or knock out her teeth - unmistakable clues for the world to see - instead throwing her against a wall or smothering her with a pillow until she started to black out.

He was a real estate broker, a wealthy man respected in their community. She was just his appendage. The independent thinker had been systematically beaten down, replaced by a woman who thought that if she just remained quiet, everything would be OK.

But the bookstore shouted at Desiree to speak up.

She walked in one day in the early 1990s, and quickly found that she was in her element among the incense and crystals.

Desiree eventually left her cashier's job to work at the bookstore. She read feminist writers Gloria Steinem and Mary Anne Williamson, Ginny Nicarthy's "Getting Free," and books on Wicca, a religion that promotes, in part, male-female balance.

She realized that she had done nothing to provoke the abuse, but it was up to her to stop it.

She stopped hovering over her husband, stopped asking permission. She took to a quiet corner of the house and read to herself. She developed her own friends, ones who valued her for who she was.

"It reaffirmed that I actually had a self to share with people - that I was a living, thinking person with something to offer," Desiree said.

He stranded her at a friend's one night in 1993 and that was it: She moved out the next day and divorced him within nine months.

Today Desiree, 42, wears a pentacle - a five-pointed star - around her neck. It's a Wiccan symbol, one that represents natural and spiritual harmony, and her second husband respects it just as he respects her.

They have a 6-year-old daughter and a 3-year-old son, and they live in a cozy, forested McKenzie Bridge home with more dogs, cats and chickens than can be easily counted.

When not running her child care business, Desiree draws, paints and reads.

The bitter memories, a decade old now, still make her eyes well up. But nothing more.

"My life is infinitely better," Desiree said. "Everybody has challenges and struggles, but there's no comparison between now and then. I only wish that I had known what the future held for me - how much better it would get."

When he tucked the rifle under her chin and told her that she was going to die, calmness washed over Debbie.

"I had accepted it," she said. "The fear actually dissipates."

Instead, her husband jerked the barrel up, throwing her head back as he discharged a round over her face.

She had married him at 19, and they lived in Nevada around 1985. He was a mountain man, strong and deep, and she had loved his passion. He said he needed her for his very existence.

But it wasn't healthy, Debbie said. His drinking was an embarrassment for her, and when the physical abuse started, she thought she was the only woman in the world experiencing it.

She used to watch cars motor down the road - she saw the happy couples inside, and she thought to herself how lucky the women were not to have to worry about being beaten tonight.

She had left before, but his threats to harm her mother and sister always brought her back.

Either I'm going to die or he's going to die, Debbie thought to herself, and she contemplated killing him.

The rifle blast ended it. Debbie was gone in two days, her resolve galvanized by a rediscovered spirituality.

She planned it all out. She needed a 30-minute head start before he would realize she was gone, lest he tear up and down the highways in search of her.

She warned her friends and family to say nothing, then took off, ultimately arriving at an old friend's in Junction City, a friend that he didn't know. She left no note, no phone number, no way whatsoever to find her.

Debbie was 25, and she owned the world. She started doing the things she wanted to do: She made her own friends, she chatted up her neighbors, and she bought a house, fixing it up and renting out a room, all on a waitress' salary.

And she learned a lesson.

"If I dated a guy who seemed in any way controlling - in any way - I would just get rid of him so fast it would make your head spin," said Debbie, who did just that on one occasion.

Today, at 44 and living in Eugene, Debbie works for the Eugene School District. She's an active parent and an engaged political volunteer. She feels a deep responsibility to help others.

Debbie has been married for 16 years, and she has a 15-year-old son by her second husband. Both, she believes, are rewards for the change she made.

Her husband respects their political differences and her occasional long hours as a volunteer and a helper in their son's school. He honored her need to design - and redesign - the two-story farmhouse that they built together.

Most important, perhaps, he respects her need to be alone. Debbie likes to go to the coast, where she sits on the beach with her dog, Jack, and writes about her feelings.

"You have to have some self-worth in order to be able to leave," Debbie said. "You need to say, `Hey, I'm worth something, I deserve better.' When I think about my life before, it seems like a different lifetime. It really makes me appreciate what I have.

"Now I feel like I'm one of those people that I looked at in the car and wished I was."

Lena's Story

I married an abusive man who had a severe drinking problem. He would take days off of work and drink terribly. When he would drink he would become particularly abusive. I became pregnant and it didn't stop him. He would still knock me down, shake me, and push me into walls. I put up with it because I loved him. He never remembered the things he would do so I would blame the alcohol instead of him. Our relationship became so bad that I would miss a lot of work and my employer was getting fed up with me.

How I coped:

I started to take pictures of the damage he would do to me and the home. I kept a detailed record day to day. One day he passed out with a glass of beer while holding my baby. Even though I had low self esteem, I was strong when it came to my child. He left the home, I notified the police that he was drunk driving and he went to jail. I moved out while he was in jail and I am staying with my family right now.

How the situation changed:

My husband has now filed for divorce, but not until I went to the court to get a no contact order. He may no longer come near me or he goes to jail. As much as I love him when he's sober, I need this no contact because he is abusive when drunk and if he could come near me I'm sure he could melt his way back into my heart and do it all over again.

What helped me to get stronger:

My baby made me become stronger. I put up with a lot of abuse, but he only had to fail as a parent once for me to take my baby and flee for safety.

Julie's story

At first my boyfriend was so considerate, and overly friendly. Once we started dating he started to accuse me of cheating on him, and would call me a 'slut'. He would repeatedly call to "check-up" on me. When he say me dancing with a male friend, he grabbed my arm and I fell down a flight of steps trying to get away from him. One night, he held me down and wouldn't let me leave his house.

The worst part was that I went along with everything. He would break up with me, and then I would take him back. He blamed me for his behavior, saying that if I was trustable, he wouldn't have to check on me. He would ask my friends if I was trustworthy and would check to see if my car was at work. Many times women believe that they would recognize abuse, I believed that. I am an educated woman, from a good family, with a job, and a secure future. I never thought I would end up in an abusive relationship. It was so subtle - he stole my self worth.

How I coped

After we broke up, he started to stalk me. I made two police reports against him and took him to court for a restraining order. I didn't get it. He followed me everywhere I went, sent lewd messages, threatened me. Six months later, he damaged my car. It has been a year, my friends have been a good support and a local abuse support service has helped.

Ann's story

I had been seeing this guy for just over three months. We both drank a lot. One night, he got really mad at me and he called me a lot of names, and then pushed me against the wall. I got really scared but he said he was sorry and he'd never do it again.

Another night, he wanted to make love and I asked him to put on a condom. He said he didn't have one. I asked him to stop, and he wouldn't. And he said that it didn't matter, not to worry about it. At first, I sort of laughed cause i thought he was joking, but then I realized he was serious and I got scared. I told him to stop but he wouldn't, and I pushed him away but he pushed me back and pinned me down with his body. He was very strong. He raped me.

How I coped

I had been abused as a child, and I had told him about it. I was very depressed already, and I had been cutting myself. Things got really bad after the rape. I tried to kill myself. I think I just wanted to cut myself really bad and I cut too deep, and I ended up nearly dead. They had to rush me to the hospital.

How the situation changed

I started to get counselling and had to deal with all the childhood abuse, and also all the alcohol and drugs I had done and all the people I had slept with. And also I talked about how much I'd cut myself, and burn myself. I was going crazy, and all I could think about was killing myself. I hated myself too. But getting counselling and a support group and getting anti-depressants really really helped.

What helped me

My sisters and my friends saved my life and I put them through hell. I didn't really start to change until one night I felt with my BODY that I wasn't to blame. I really was screwed up and doing the best I could. I realized that I had to forgive myself for some things, that I wasn't to blame. And I realised that I would have to continue forgiving myself for my mistakes.

"D's" Story

To everyone out there with big hearts, big dreams, and big "helper-syndromes":

Just like I am, always looking for the half full glass instead of the half empty, we have to see that sometimes empty just means nothing but empty. My daughter, my beautiful sunshine needs me. If it isn't for me, I have to give her life secureity and joy. I may not be strong for myself, but I know I can be for her. Never in life do I want her to step into my pattern of "accepting, loving, no matter what ", I would hate myself forever. This time I made a step, and called the police, a "first time ever", a great big step. And next time, I promise you, my baby, I will go, with you in my arms.

How I coped

To look in the eyes of my baby girl and know that she watched every bit. It helped to be able to see the truth.

How the situation changed

I called the cops, the first time ever. I called a abuse hotline, and set an appointment for counselling, also the first time ever. Before I was nothing but a "please love me, it's all my fault, If I just change...." But to know that my daughter was sick all night after he choked me in front of her - this gave me one step into the right way. I am not there yet, but at least I am on my way. And I will reach peace soon, as long I continue to look in my daughter's sad eyes.

What has helped me

My baby girl. I want her to be strong with the knowledge that this world can be a great place, not a hide out, a cave with tears all around.

Kaz's Story

Kaz's story

I really fell for this guy. He was wonderful for the first 3 months, but then he changed and became very controlling. He didnt allow me to talk with friends freely, and would throw and break things if I did. He told me I was a bitch, he spat on me and hit me. On one occassion I was bed ridden for 2 days from this and made excuses to people about how I was injured. He pulled a knife and stabbed my bedding, threatened me with objects, drove the car at high speeds with me in it - and always, always it was my fault.

I began to believe that it was my fault and felt like I was in this rollercoaster that I couldn't get off. I spent every day crying until finally enough was enough and I left. Still he came and begged me to give him another go and I did, but it wasn't my choice to be in the relationship. We didn't live together again and I started to go out with my friends more and more. I found that I really was so much happier and better without this person in my life.

How I coped

I really don't know, I think I was only just functioning really. Getting up each day going to work, hoping that this person would treat me better this day - but it never happened.

How the situation changed

Finally after continual phone calls and harrassment from him I got a restraining order.

What helped me

My friends and family helped me a lot, telling me I didn't need this jerk in my life that I was a better person than him and I deserved someone better, someone who respects me and allows me to be me. Also being the mother of grown children who loved me and just wanted to see me happy - I wanted to be there for them.

Alex's Story

Alex's story

My partner has been physically and emotionally abusing me for about twelve months. It's started with pushing and shoving and taking my keys when I wanted to leave. He was very insecure about past relationships and jealous of people he thought were a threat. We would have evenings where he'd been drinking and start accusing me of being a 'whore' amongst other names. It would go on for hours until he would fall asleep. The next day it was always the same, he was sorry and he didn't know why he said it and did the things he did. I believed him at first but after the third time I knew it was a mistake and I had to get out.

The final straw was the worst behavior, hours of verbal abuse and name calling and then he became violent when I tried to call someone. That night it dawned on me things will never change. I had to put myself first and do what was right for me. How could I let myself be hurt this way?

How I coped

I believed he wanted to change. We even went to counselling together but it didn't last. I kept telling myself that it was the drink, or tried to change my way of thinking and acting. Nothing worked and I knew I had to get out. I confided in a friend who helped me cope and then to eventually leave.

How the situation changed

After the last time, I had the strength to say leave. Of course he wouldn't leave, but I asked my friend for help and she reinforced to him that I wanted him out, or else I'd call the police. He believed me then because I'd told someone.

What helped me

My deep seated belief that this was wrong and no matter what, his behaviour was not my fault. Good friends helped and are still helping me to get stronger. I will seek counselling now and I know I'll keep going forward and get stronger still.

What I would say to others

Believe in yourself and tell yourself you deserve better. I know it's hard but you can get out, you don't have to live like this. No matter what they tell you, never ever believe that the abuse is your fault.

Maria's Story

It’s quite a terrible thing to admit that you have been in two abusive relationships. Confessing that though, I must add that calling the things right names is the first big step in recovery. Ironically, when I met my second boyfriend, I was quite aware that my previous relationship had been abusive but I wasn´t able to realize that things were going the same way again. I wanted love so much that I denied all signs right from the beginning.

When I started dating my first boyfriend, I was a 15-year-old depressed girl with family problems. I had a weak health, poor self-confidence – it was as if I was wearing an "abuse me" sticker.

Right from the beginning I knew that something was wrong, but my intuition was silenced by the hunger for love I had. Later in our relationship I realized clearly that I was suffering but I wasn’t able to identify the source. It was standing next to me and I was calling it love.
Being in the relationship was like being locked in a prison, being tied up and unable to speak. Sometimes when we were out together I "disappeared" for the whole evening and curled in a nook. I felt better away from him, away from his mordant words. My eating habits were never okay, but with him at times I wasn’t able to eat at all, as he used to scold me in restaurants and even at home for "bad table manners". I was not a sociable person by the time I met him, but I wasn’t lone freak either. Gradually he made me believe that I have no friends. If I had any, I wouldn’t introduce him to them because I was so afraid of being embarrassed. So he discouraged me from making friends and on the other hand he criticised me for being a loner. Later I read in a psychology book that this is called a "double bind", a manipulation.

I managed to develop a kind of bipolar life. In some dark moments I was desperate with pain, and in the clear moments I was able to write a whole page about my boyfriend denouncing how evil he is. Guess what I did with that page later? I threw it out and persuaded myself to forget about it. I guess I could read a whole book on relationships three times and I would never admit that "this applies to me too." Love is blind, the saying goes, and I was blinded by fear.

There were many obvious signs that he didn’t care about me: he didn’t give me any presents for birthday and Christmas, he didn’t keep promises, he didn’t return things that I had lent him. I apologised for him, believing the excuses he gave me. I did schoolwork for him and he hardly ever thanked me. If I didn’t do his tests for him, he would fail. I was an excellent student compared to him but he never wanted to hear anything about my successes. He accused me of hurting him and showing off. He was The King in my eyes and the loser was always me.

When I got out from this relationship, I realized there had been even more serious stuff going on. He assaulted me physically more than once and often he would hold my hand to tightly that it hurt. The worst assault was when he strangled me and pushed towards the wall. I was petrified and tried not to make him more furious. He never apologised for this, and I believed "I deserved it" because I made him angry.

Then there was also a great confusion in my head about our sexual relationship. I thought that everything was okay even though I remember myself going home in pain and him scolding me for being too slow (he was rushing to the pub just like he did every Friday). He didn’t care about my feelings. I thought my sexual life was just okay but later I developed a post-traumatic syndrome and gynaecological problems.

I remember he could get furious about just anything and start to yell and kick things. Once he called me bad names just because he couldn’t find his keys. Another time I was helping him with his homework and he wouldn’t stop shouting at me. Was I the one to blame for his laziness? Sure I was. I believed that if I had behaved well, he wouldn’t have got angry.

We never argued in the true sense of the word. He had his requirements and I submitted.

It was the third Christmas when our relationship started to break. I was so afraid of losing him that I would negotiate his insane accusations and try to submit. He didn’t like that I am not a "sociable person" (i.e. drinking and driving fast with his friends), that I don’t wear make-up like the other girls and that we don’t have much in common (which was true, no matter how hard I tried to resemble him and his friends).

I negotiated with him and soothed him for two months more but our relationship was coming to an end. No matter how I would try to satisfy him, he became bored and for reasons that I don’t remember, he wanted me to leave. I thought my life had come to its bitter end.
My "last offence" was that I cried in front of his mother, because I felt so bad. It was "agreed" that I would not discuss our relationship with anybody else including my and his family. He gave the reason that it really hurts him and I had swallowed it.

I was beaten, broken, but with that kind of faith that gives you courage. I had tried to do everything he wanted me to and it didn’t help, so in my foolish head I assumed that I am not worth him. It gave me a certain light. I realised that if I had belittled myself to nothingness, and had apologised for things I didn’t feel guilty of, and it hadn’t helped at all, then there must be something else going on. The pain didn’t seem unbearable from that moment on.

His brother told me after we broke up: "He loved you only until you started to demand greater freedom. When you stopped worshipping him, you were no longer attractive to him." It took me another month to realize that it was true.

It was only two weeks or so after our final break-up and I managed to find another boyfriend via an internet dating service.

That’s a different story.

This guy hated women and on the other hand glorified his best female friend. He always told me to behave like her, to dress like her, to be like her. When I got mad and told him to go and be with her, I realized that she didn’t want him. He never had a girlfriend before and he was two years older than me.

The trap was that he was so different from my first boyfriend that I thought he must be a decent guy. He wasn’t. I start to tremble when I see him even now. I called him a vampire when finally I broke up with him and that’s precisely what he was.

He made me stay up late and tortured me with endless negotiations about "his uncertainty whether he wants to be with me or not". He never had time for me and would rather go with his friends to pub to "help them to solve their emotional problems." This personality trait he seemed so to be proud of turned out to be an utter falsehood. He would smile at everybody else except me. I saw in his eyes several times that he didn’t really see me as a human being. I rarely in my life have felt so deeply terrified although there was nothing obviously violent in his behaviour...but his gaze.

This relationship lasted for a half a year. It was full of power struggles and my attempts to grasp him. He used to talk a lot about various forms of violence, weapons and fighting and he had a whole hard disc full of sadistic porn.

This all sounds pretty terrible but I considered him a weakling, an unloved child who needs a mother. I tried to help him, but he wanted me to be a hot mistress and a totally asexual friend at the same time. In this schizophrenia I felt lost and guilty.

This relationship broke up when I met an elder man and became friends with him. It was bliss because I wouldn’t have been able to break free without help of another person.

It was quite dramatic. Though my boyfriend had never phoned me at home, he managed to get my number and called my parents to ask them where I am. I was scared to death. He even turned up at our house and wanted "a word with me." He told me he feels he has to fight for me and that after everything I had done for him he must pay me back (before that he always told me that he was sacrificing for me and that I am not worth him). I told him I no longer want him. After he realized this, he started dating his friend’s wife...

I consider it a great success that I ended this relationship within half a year. Even though I felt so powerless and scared, I managed to get out of his influence. After several weeks my health has improved and I have more energy. The post-traumatic syndrome is still haunting me from time to time, but I have never lived so fully before. I wish all those who are trapped in abusive relationships that they find a good friend and can get out and live in freedom again.

Ann's Story

Anna's story

My first husband was mentally and physically abusive and had a sexual addiction problem. I knew before we married about a family history of abuse. Once before our marriage, he threatened to kill us both in the car. I thought his behaviour would change once he moved away from his family, and for a very short time it did. Before I gave birth to our first child, twice he again threatened to kill us in the car. After I gave birth, his mental abuse of manipulation, questioning my fidelity and stalking me escalated. After the birth of our second child, his sexual addiction was ignited and he began a series of affairs. Depression robbed me of my ready smile. It was like walking on eggshells, but I loved him.

His continual physical abuse ceased the day he belted me so hard I lost partial hearing in one ear and then he raped me. Afterward he felt remorseful and I was grateful for the cessation of physical abuse. Within months, I saw my children withdraw from their father. In the final futile weeks I remained with him, I narrowly stopped him from a sexual advance on our daughter, and watched in horror as he threw a knife at our son.
How I coped:

I spoke up for myself and pointed out that his behaviour was intolerable. I began undertaking activities to relax myself such as going to the gym, swimming and learning meditation techniques.

How the situation changed:

My children and I all survived and undertook counselling after I demanded my husband leave the house for good and I began divorce proceedings one year later.

What helped:

I spoke with a psychologist who was a work colleague at the time. He encouraged me to understand that I had a lot to offer, and that I should no longer accept manipulation, physical abuse, and intimidation.

What I would say to someone who is being abused:

It's easy to say "GET OUT", but I know what it feels like wanting to give a fifth, sixth, and seventh chance. There is a song that Brian Cadd recorded in the 70s and its integral words were: “If it hurts to say his name, then baby let go.” It's as simple as that. You deserve to be happy, loved and fulfilled.

It took me a lot of false starts, but eventually I stepped out of an abusive relationship. I am now re-married and enjoying every minute of what a real marriage should be. Don’t waste another minute of your life trying to change an abuser.

Please, anyone out there presently in any form of abusive relationship, once a guy behaves in an abusive way more than a few times, it's not just a mistake brought on by his own stresses. Take that step and move on before it's too late. Such a decision can be hard but taking a positive step to free yourself is certainly worth it. You will need time to heal the hurt, but over time you will feel like yourself again. Make sure you go out with friends after a break up, as this will only do you good.

Jody's Story

Jody's story

I identify myself as an Indigenous deaf woman. I am an advocate for women with disabilities in my community, especially deaf women, and I help them to access services so they can find out about their health and legal rights. I am able to be an advocate because I have had personal involvement with the legal system. I know what it's like to be disregarded and disrespected by the legal system because I am Indigenous, deaf and living in a same-sex relationship.

My experience of the legal system stems from five years of trying to protect myself from being victimised and harassed. This man had eight breaches of an Intervention Order. The stalking laws had only just been introduced at that time, but these didn't help me.

I’d had enough of being a victim in my own home and community. I refused to accept that my freedom to go into public places and visit friends was being dictated by someone else. The reason for the stalking isn't the issue; the issue is why it took me five years and eight Intervention Orders to have this man brought to justice. Why didn't I get the respect of being heard? I took a stand. I provided not only written documentation but also video evidence of the stalking and harassment, but I was told that I had invaded this man's privacy. Where was my privacy?

The police and courts started to believe me when the other victims came to my help. This man had other court cases for stalking at the same time, yet the police still didn't see it as being a problem. Why didn't they believe me before then?

The police made assumptions that since other members of my family had prior involvement with the police and courts (and being more ‘indigenous’ looking then me) that I was the same ‘type of person’. The views of the senior police caused me to question what was real. They tried to tell me that I was ‘imagining’ the abuse, and that I should count myself 'lucky' that this man was 'interested in me'.

When I persisted, I was interviewed, but without an interpreter. I wasn't sure of the language that they used. I was told my request for an interpreter was too ‘expensive’ and time consuming. They told me that my speech was great and they would slow down for me. They said that my hearing loss wasn't a concern for them. I explained to them that while I can speak well and lip-read well, under the circumstances I didn't feel comfortable without an interpreter. I needed an interpreter to give me the full context of the questions that they were asking me. I felt intimidated by their use of the English language and found it harder when they used terminology that I hadn't come across before.

I have had court cases postponed and moved for all sorts of reasons, including not having an interpreter. The perpetrator said he felt 'intimidated' by the use of sign language and said 'we were talking in codes' and that the 'interpreter was telling lies'. Even one of the magistrates didn't understand the bi-cultural bi-lingual ( Deaf/Indigenous, English/Auslan) way in which I presented myself and said I looked down and not at him directly (which in my culture is a sign of respect).

Also, every time I had to give evidence I had to re-live the harassment and abuse caused by the stalking nightmare. Where was my right to a fair court hearing? Where was my right to support and to use my own language as a woman who needed protection?

But now I have learnt a valuable lesson about the system: it's not perfect (and it would be unrealistic to think it is). But I have identified the gaps in the system. Regardless of whether the woman has a disability or a language concern, or even if they are the perpetrator or the victim, they should be dealt with appropriately and professionally.

I am not saying that women with a disability should get 'special treatment'. What we do seek is to have just, fair and appropriate support services, a clear understanding of the law and an awareness of who are the key players in the court process and who will eventually provide us with protection.

I am a woman who has survived horrible abuse and harassment, a woman who has a disability and who has navigated her way through the system and survived. I hope I can empower other women to succeed and achieve anything that they want if they truly believe in themselves. And regardless of gender, race, disability, religion and sexual orientation, we are all women first. Together we can support each other to overcome such segregation within our communities.

Wednesday, 30 April 2008

Carrie

bianca.

A child who was abused.

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Friendship

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