I Finally Found My Voice
1 in 3 Women & 1 in 5 Men have experienced domestic violence.
I've been putting this blog post off for quite a while because I didn't want to deal with it. Sometimes I don't like to feel. I am a master compartmentalizer. I put things in boxes all the time. And then when I feel I can, I unpack the box and deal with what is inside. This box has been unpacked and repacked many times. Every so often, I take one item out and kind of throw it out there to see how the world will react, knowing there is so much more that I am supposed to unpack. I lie to myself and say, you told your story, now you can move on to something brighter and happier. But I haven't even told a corner of it. There may be 5 people on this earth that know the totality of what's inside my box. And I'm honestly not even sure if they have put all the pieces together. But what I do know, is that it is time for me to use my voice and my platform to remove the shame and embarrassment that so many feel. So here goes...
***Trigger Warning***
Why I waited to tell my story.
I have personally been triggered by the recent news cycle. It all started with the supreme court justice battle in September. I care not to mention the justice by name because I feel like it gives him additional power. But what I do want to talk about is why people wait to tell their story.
When you go through traumatic events the first thing you do is blame yourself. You analyze every decision you made that leads you up to the point of being traumatized. You call yourself stupid. You tell yourself, "If I just would/wouldn't have done that I wouldn't be in this position." You replay the situation over and over again. You ask yourself, "Why didn't I scream? Why didn't I run? Why wasn't I strong enough to leave? Why did I stay so long?” You experience feelings of embarrassment and shame because you are the last person that anyone would have ever expected to have dealt with this type of situation. You say, “Maybe I deserved it.”
That's what I told myself, anyway. The reason the justice fight was triggering for me was because people seem to think that just because time has passed that the violation somehow becomes excused and we lose the right to tell our story. I was floored at how many posts I saw of people saying, "It's been 30 years. Why speak out now?". And the truth of the matter is, what difference does it make? I own the right to tell my story whenever the hell I feel I'm ready to tell my story. If that falls at the 9th hour of the biggest accomplishment of your life, oh well. Maybe you should have made better choices to not have created a story to tell.
I made a commitment in October to limit my news intake because I noticed my attitude and peace were being impacted. October is known for being Breast Cancer Awareness month. Everyone wears their pink and jumps on board the breast cancer conversation. What is seldom highlighted during October is the fact that it's also Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Cuz, see, we don't want to talk about that. We don't see folks rocking their purple. Or see athletes using their platform to speak against men who perpetuate the culture of toxic masculinity. There's no special segment on the morning or evening news dedicated to survivors. There's no scholarship fund. There's no city wide walk. There isn't paraphernalia to buy in the stores. Just lots of…silence. These hidden victims are wrapped in a shroud of judgement if they tell their stories. They are picked apart and shamed. People ask, “Why didn’t they just leave?” Others say, “I would never have stood for that? How can you allow yourself to be in that situation?” Blah. Blah. Blah. None of this is helpful, by the way. Just in case you were wondering. I knew in October I needed to say something, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.
The tragic stories that have leaked through my news feed this week have been lingering in my subconscious, waiting on me to sit down and write. Most recently, the tragic deaths of Dr. Tamara O'Neal, Angela Bledsoe and Aisha Fraser Mason have once again made me realize how important it is to speak out about my own experiences. Thanking God the entire time that I didn't end up a statistic. He saw fit to save me from myself within a situation that I couldn't see a way out of.
This past weekend I had a conversation with a friend about the lessons we teach girls. As a society, we tell girls and women that they have to endure cheating and abuse to "grow with a man" to experience the love that they deserve. I fully reject this way of thinking and believe that it sets girls and women up to believe that they have to be manipulated and mistreated to earn this love. While we were talking, I referenced pieces of my life and the types of abuse that I had endured. It brought up the question of, what is abuse?
Abuse: any action that intentionally harms or injures another person
The key in abuse is the intention and the desire to control. Let me say that domestic violence/abuse/trauma looks different in every situation. It is not a one size fits all type of thing. Abuse is calculated, though, and follows a process of sorts. Red flags include any of the following: Manipulation, Isolation, Control or Jealousy. I experienced 3 of the 4 with a side of self-imposed isolation. It often starts out with the verbal and emotional abuse. I've listed below what this might look/sound like. (original source here)
Put downs
Making you feel bad about yourself
Calling you names
Making you think you are crazy (gaslighting)
Playing mind games
Humiliation
Making you feel guilty
This is how things started for me. This is my story, not to be minimized or diminished by anyone else's story. Take it for what it is and leave the rest. It started the very night I met him. He began grooming me and determining what I would allow him to do and say to me. Through all of the put-downs coupled with my eroded self-esteem he generated the perfect conditions for an abusive relationship. The insults and put downs in combination with false hope of an amazing relationship if I would only change myself, kept me locked in a cycle that I couldn't see my way out of. It started out slowly. But for each seed that was planted, he was there to water and fertilize it to create the optimal conditions. I knew it wasn't healthy. I knew I should leave. But I simply didn't have the strength to do so. I'd write in my journal about my feelings all the time. Hoping to be able to gain some insight and peace. I wanted so badly to be free from the cycle, but simply didn't know the first thing to do.
Journal Entry:
Control: determining what someone else does whether they choose to or not. Disregarding others' feelings to accomplish our own agenda.
Control is so real. I've never been controlled by a man before...only my mother. It makes me feel so helpless. I hate that feeling. I despise it and detest it. My mother had such a hold on my spirit it drove me to the point of hate. Here I am finally free from one dictator and I've allowed another to come in and imprison me in a worse way. It took me years to heal from her torment. I just want to heal from this. I used to do the same thing as a child. I'd pretend I had a loving caring mother who cared about my feelings. Now with him I imagine that he loves me. I play the meaningless words through my mind to give me some sense of peace. It often doesn't work but I keep trying. I've really allowed Satan to enter my mind and take advantage of my insecurities. He knows exactly what to do. And, I forget how to defeat him.
God, I need your help. Better yet, I need you to do this completely. I ask for wisdom but rarely know when you're speaking. Help me to know your voice so I may follow your will. Please heal my heart. It's so broken, and it's been for a while now. That's such a wretched feeling. I don't think people acknowledge it as such. But it's so real. I need your jumbo band-aid. Please fill the spaces and recreate me. Amen
The first time he actually put his hands on me was on Martin Luther King Day. We had been dating for a couple years already. He had used that time to erode my self-confidence by cheating constantly and capitalizing on any weakness or vulnerability I had shown. We had an amazing day. We had matching Obama shirts. I felt like we were making progress. I met his grandmother for the first time that day. She was wonderful. We picked up wings from Beef O'Brady's for dinner and got back to the house. His mom called and she asked where he was. He lied. He didn't say anything about being with me. While he was still on the phone, I asked him why he didn't tell her where he really was. I was in the middle of putting our food on plates to eat. I didn't notice him getting angry. He walked into the kitchen and knocked all the food out of my hands onto the floor and told me not to ever speak to him that way again. My initial reaction was to cuss him out. I stormed out of the kitchen and into my bedroom cussing and screaming the whole way. He was behind me. He pushed me into the closet door and then into the closet. I fell, but got back up ready to fight. He kept pushing me. I couldn't get up. He just kept pushing me over and over again. I didn't tell anyone. I made excuses. He apologized and I accepted it. I felt lucky to have a guy like him. I thought he needed me. I thought I could love him to life. I know that sounds crazy, but it's what I thought.
Journal Entry:
God, I just need you to hear my cries for help and cover me. God please guard my heart and fill my voids. I can’t do this without you. God I release him into your hands. God help him to become the Boaz he is meant to be. God continue to love him. God place people in his life that will be positive influences. And God, please help me let go. He doesn’t want my help or me. Please give me acceptance. Please give me understanding. Please help me with my anger, frustration and disappointment. Help me to be the woman you want me to be.
The next time, I was at his house. I found out that he had been cheating again with his favorite chic. They were together before I met him and I learned that he had never really broken up with her. She lingered around our relationship for years after that. As a matter of fact she is still so obsessed that she checks my Instagram feed on a daily basis. I addressed his cheating while sitting in his living room and he slapped me. I got up to get my things and he came up behind me and pushed me into his closet. ((He must have had a thing for closets. They prevented me from escaping.)) This time, he pushed me so hard that he broke his closet door. He then proceeded to drag me out of the house and push me out of the door and off of the porch. This time I called the police. When they came I told them I just needed to get my things. But I didn't file a report. I didn't want him to go to jail. For some reason, I was still trying to protect him even though it was clear that he viewed me as completely invaluable. While I was waiting on the police to arrive, I called his parents. Interestingly enough, they were my pastors at the time. They didn't seem outraged. They didn't seem to really care. I remember thinking how strange that was. I later understood, this is something that has run in their family for years. This is what they do. So why was I any different?
Of course after this experience he apologized and did everything in his power to show me that he was a changed man. We entered what’s called the “honeymoon phase”. First, the abuser is ashamed of his behavior. He expresses remorse, tries to minimize the abuse and might even blame it on the partner. He may then exhibit loving, kind behavior followed by apologies, generosity and helpfulness. He will genuinely attempt to convince the partner that the abuse will not happen again. This loving and contrite behavior strengthens the bond between the partners and will probably convince the victim, once again, that leaving the relationship is not necessary.
Journal Entry:
I’m so happy and at peace. It’s like we’re friends. We laugh and act silly. We fight and get over it in five minutes. I’m not scared he’s gonna change his mind. I know he wants me. And, that he really does love me. He even screamed he loved me across the Hip Hop Soda shop the other day. This is awesome. I finally feel secure. This is what I’ve been longing for, for him to be there and me to know he’s gonna be there. Get this, He asked for us to spend Thanksgiving together. He asked! I didn’t suggest it. It was all his idea. He came up with the menu and everything. I was so excited I couldn’t stop smiling. And, not only are we gonna spend Thanksgiving together…we’re going to Houston for Christmas and New Year’s. I can’t wait! He can’t wait either. It’s so cool to listen to him plan. He’s genuinely excited. We are going to have the best time.
I’ve finally got that wonderful boyfriend I always knew he could be. And, I’m finally happy. Now I cry happy tears because I feel so loved. He really loves me. And I know it. I don’t doubt it anymore. I know he loves me. I know I make him happy. I am so thankful. I think God finally gave us His blessing. We actually have a real chance. We have a chance to be happy with each other. It’s the best feeling to look into a man’s eyes and see love looking back at you. I feel fulfilled and I love it!
Of course that phase is short lived. The constant up and down roller coaster took a major toll on my mind. I found myself in a deep depression during this time. There were many days that I wanted to just die. I'd wake up and wish I could just go back to sleep forever. But I didn't really want to sleep because I'd replay his horrible words and physical violence in my head over and over again. It was a vicious cycle. I remember feeling strong enough to tell my best friend at work about what was going on after I called the police. I told our resource officer at my school as well. The level of judgement I felt was paralyzing. I don't think they intentionally made me feel that way. But all the questions of why I stayed and why I didn't just leave and did I want them to beat him up just became too much. I hadn't really gathered the strength to leave the relationship so I was still smack dab in the middle of the abuse. The only thing I could do was not share what was going on anymore. That way I didn’t have to deal with the disappointment. I drifted away from my friend. I became very cryptic in my communication. And of course at this point everyone hated him. I, however, still loved him. So I just kept my thoughts to myself, waiting for days that I felt strong enough to strategize how I would end it for good.
A quick word to the friends who are wanting to be there for their friend who is involved in an abusive relationship:
Just listen and be there. Uplift and speak life. Reserve your thoughts on how much you hate the abuser. They don't help to expedite the process and often have the reverse effect. Just love your friend. It's not something that's easy to do at all. I don't mean to make it sound simple. I’ve learned that it takes an average of 7 instances of violence for someone to leave an abusive relationship. So, the most helpful thing you can do is to just listen and let your friend know that you will be there if they need to talk and when they are ready to leave. Trust me, your friend already knows that leaving is the best thing for them to do. And they are beyond embarrassed that you even know what's going on.
Watch this episode of Red Table Talk Live to gain some additional insight.
Why I stayed:
When I met this "dream guy" I was at a place of feeling like I wasn't good enough. I had previously broken off an engagement that ended simply because he didn't choose me over location. I didn't at the time know how to properly process those emotions and did what I do best. I stuffed them inside a box and decided to keep it moving. When I met him, I in a way was seeking validation from him because of who I perceived him to be. I considered myself lucky to have been noticed by him. Completely forsaking the amazingness that I possessed that made him take notice in the first place.
The second piece of this puzzle was the soul tie that I formed with him. A soul tie has a very specific purpose within a relationship. It is meant to tie a husband and wife together so that their bond becomes unbreakable. It is initiated in many ways but the strongest of these is engaging in sex. The pattern I noticed as I reread my journal entries is that every traumatic experience was followed with sex. Each time it caused the unhealthy soul tie to become that much stronger. It caused me to overlook and forgive, falsely believing we had a real bond. What I discovered on the back side of the relationship is that he and I were never friends. And further, that I would have never considered befriending someone like him had I put it all in perspective in the first place. Sex clouded my judgement and caused me to stay so much longer than I should have. I began to find my freedom when I decided to become celibate. That decision ultimately ended the relationship by giving me the mental clarity to see things as they were. My therapist used to ask me what I wanted things to look like. I spent a year trying to come up with that answer. Once that soul tie was broken I was able to confidently walk away from that relationship, knowing that I was worth so much more.
For anyone who may find yourself in the middle of this vicious cycle I want you to know that I get it. I’ve shared all I have today in an effort to allow my transparency to provide some sense of comfort. You are not alone. Consider me an ally in your fight. I see you and I know first hand what you are going through. When you are ready, use the information below to get help. Until then, I will be praying constantly for you because prayer does change things. I know it is the only reason that I was able to rebuild my life and gain a full and complete understanding of who God created me to be.
