In The Begining

 "Why did you stay?" 

That is the question I'm asked most often.  I stayed for many reasons that I don't recommend now.  The reasons also changed over the years.  In the beginning, I stayed because it was my second marriage so I already felt like a failure and I was going to make this marriage work...no matter what.  Raised as a "good Christian girl" I made vows to stay with Michael through thick and thin.  Marriage is work.  I knew it wasn't something to be thrown away lightly.  The problem is I wasn't taught that sometimes the right thing to do is leave.

Within the first week of being married Michael showed me a side of himself I never met while dating for a year. He knew that because I grew up with drug addicted brothers I was hard core anti-drugs.  I can still see him standing in our rented house in Orange, CA reaching for something on the top of the entertainment center.  He brought down a baggie of pot with a huge smile on his face.  He was very proud of himself for hiding the fact that he was a pothead.  I can only imagine the look of horror on my own face as he says, "Yep, I smoke pot.  I've always smoked pot.  And I'll continue to always smoke pot.  I know how you feel about it, but this is me so deal with it."  Part of the game is to pull something over on the victim.  He certainly had me fooled.  It broke my heart.  It was the start of breaking my spirit that kept me with him for seven years.

That was the first incident where I wanted to walk away.  Hindsight shows me that I should have, but this niggling voice in my head back then pointed out, "Your parents just paid thousands of dollars on a wedding. You're pregnant with his child and you have a 3 year old...what are you going to do if you leave?  Suck it up and stay. You're being too quick to judge."  Had I told my parents they would've paid a fortune for a divorce if need be, but I was afraid to tell them.  No, I made my own bed...I was going to work on this and make it right.

The handwriting was there on the wall to a future I couldn't yet see.  A future where after our divorce he would teach our daughter how to grow pot and to lie to me ...not just about growing pot, but about the bruises she received from her dad...she thought it was her fault.  No my sweet.  It was mine for not leaving sooner.

What I learned

From this I learned that when the person you marry misrepresents themselves...don't leave...RUN away.  What brings a couple together should be their strengths.  How can you built a solid foundation on lies?  You can't.  If you are loved, truly loved by another...they are concerned about your well being.  They want you to be happy.  They will not purposely manipulate you, pull you away from your family, use your religion against you or make you feel bad about yourself.

From the point Michael revealed this critical piece of information about himself that was anathema to my own feelings the marriage was dead.  What I didn't see at the time is that he already broke the vows of our marriage that I was so concerned with myself.  He did it without caring about me whatsoever.  Love cannot exist in this type of environment.  Love is the opposite of everything Michael did and continues to do.

My Christian upbringing pre-programmed me to not only accept the abuse to come, but to believe I had to stay to be a "good Christian".  Bullshit!   Michael used my religious upbringing against me.  "You're a Christian!  You can't leave me.  You made vows before God."  I did.  And so did Michael.  The problem was Michael saw me as a possession, not a person.  I was a toy for him to play with...nothing more.

Consequences of Staying Too Long

Twenty one years later I find that Michael skewed my view of love so much that I am afraid to love another man.  I am quick to leave when the healthy thing is to stay.  I remain a bit broken from this experience.  The real fear of meeting another Michael and not trusting myself enough to see it this time around is so overwhelming I choose the safety of single living to avoid it.  The consequence of course is sacrificing the chance of finding a loving partner.  The right man will come around.  By then I hope I've done the work to be ready to allow myself to be loved.  For real.

I Do, Best Friends Forever

A Promise of I Do

21 years ago today I said, "I do." At the time I didn't know those words would be used against me.  A promise I made that would become the words that eventual bound and gagged me into silence, held me captive because after all...I made a promise to Love, Honor and Obey.

If I could go back in time and tell the younger me to run...would I...should I?  Honestly...I don't know.  Everything that's happened to me over the past 21 years made me the woman I am now.  To be honest, I've dreamed of never telling Michael I was pregnant in the first place.  It was something I battled with at the time...do I tell him or not?  I'm not sure who this other Kristy would be so I don't waste (too much) time in the pondering over what if's.  I might have found an easier path to the me I am today, but I never seem to take the easy route in life.

Of all the possessions I've lost over the years I laughed myself silly last week when I came across the video of my wedding day buried in a box of mementos.  I don't have a VCR and am glad for it....I'm not ready to watch that day in living color.  Yet part of me is curious to see the look in that girl's eyes...what was hidden in them back then?  Was she truly happy that day?  My son was so excited...I can still see his blue green eyes beaming up at me with the sun glinting off his blond hair after the I do's were said asking, "Are we married now mamma?"  In the thinking back on his innocent joy tears stream down my cheeks.  That day marked the loss of our innocence.  That day I put Sean in danger.  That day I put my unborn daughter in danger.  That fateful day changed my life forever. That day I married a monster.

Best Friends Forever

Me & Kat 1986 Maui

The one thing I am thankful for looking back on this day is my best friend Kathy.  She stood by my side that day as my Matron of Honor and remains by my side to this day.  So today, on this anniversary... I celebrate our friendship.

Since Kat and I met in 6th grade...friends, boyfriends and husbands have come and gone from our lives.  No matter how many miles or how much time have separated us over the years...when we talk...we're right back where we were..best friends.  Where we've always been.  The word "soul sister" comes to mind.  Sounds corny, but it's true.  Nothing has ever kept us apart...and people have tried.  I love her like the sister I've never had.  When the world runs out on us...we run to the other's side.  I suppose in a way ours is the truest love I've ever found.

We grew up together in Irvine, California.  We were friends, but not best friends until the summer between middle school and high school.  As if the Universe conspired to bring us together our mother's separately encouraged us to call the other.  Literally when I picked up the phone to dial her number...she was on the line.  Kismet. We met at Carl's Jr. sitting in a booth sharing a large order of their french fries as we chatted about what...I do not remember.  I miss those french fried though...gosh I think they were made of mashed potatoes...we bonded over french fries, ketchup and Coke. Yikes...add a Snicker's bar in there and that was pretty much our lunch during our high school years.  And yet we remained thin...Jinkies I'd like that metabolism back!

That silence I told you about...I didn't even tell Kathy about the abuse for years.  She and her husband came out to Colorado to visit me.  Michael put on a wonderful show of being a good husband and father.  When they left Michael did everything he could to put walls between me and Kathy.  A typical trait of abusers is to alienate their victims from the base of support.  He never could keep me from my family or Kathy.  Thank God!  That was my saving Grace.

Several years later Kathy and Dave moved to Colorado.  That was well over 10 years ago.  While each of us has moved away...we both come back to each other.  Best friends are a treasure more valuable than gold.  Treasure them...always.  I love you Kat!

Kristy

A Frog, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

The Silence of Domestic Violence 

I hope to share key incidents, not necessarily in the order they happened, but ones that illustrate the dynamics of domestic violence plus insights I've gained through these experiences to help others.

As domestic violence and abuse in all relationships become part of our common language, people come closer to understanding what defines abuse.  While I grew up in a family with drug addicted siblings...I did not know what relationship abuse was...it wasn't taught in school or church or at home.  My parent's didn't know about abuse to educate us kids.

We, the abused, stay longer than we desire because we know (and statistics show) the danger level increases when  we leave.  In order to understand abuse, we the abused need to end our silence and share our stories to educate others.  Many of us remain quiet because we still must interact with our abuser, others because we feel ashamed at being so weak or stupid...whatever the reason I understand the validity of the reasoning. It's time for my silence to end even though through my daughter I'm forced to remain in contact with my former abuser.

Several things stand out in my story that follow the pattern while some do not.  I did not tell anyone what was going on for many reasons. Silence is typical.  Friends, co-workers and even doctors found my ex-husband to be a charming, personable man.  My old boss remains his friend and thought I was the "bad guy" in the divorce.  He is a great friend.  He was my Prince Charming...once upon a time.  Eventually I felt crazy due to my inability to make logical sense of the contrasting behavior I experienced with this charming man...behind doors he was not so charming. I began to document my experiences...to figure out...is it me or him?  HIM, but looking back helps me see why I stayed.

Dr. Jekell & Mr. Hyde

I married the sweet, smart, kind, generous Dr. Jekyll.  Our abuser was Mr. Hyde. We walked on eggshells never knowing what would trigger the transformation from one man to the other.  Years later new friends don't understand how this man hooked me, why I feared leaving him...you should've just left... or how my daughter could currently live with this man.  Let me explain....

Mother's Day...  May 12, 1991 I married Michael in my parent's backyard among friends and family. He didn't show me his Mr. Hyde side at the time...I didn't know he was going to turn on me.. which makes me feel so naive stupid.  My situation involved an additional layer of complication that pulled the wool over my eyes.  Oh sure, looking back there were signs...if I knew what to look for there were flags waving me down, but domestic violence nor antisocial personality disorder (previously called psychopath/sociopath) were part of my vernacular or education.  I wish they were not part of my language now...but...they are...and I must admit..I am better for the knowing.

Michael was the dad to my son that his blood father never was. I wanted a father for my son, a good man full of love and joy.  A wanted a man to love my son...to teach him things that father's do...sports, how to be a good man, pee in the toilet...hopefully with some aim....how to treat a woman with respect..."normal" things I took for granted growing up with my own dad.  At first, Michael was all this and more.  Sean adored Michael.

Personally I was ripe for the picking.  My first husband was my high school sweetheart, first love who left me utterly destroyed after cheating on me multiple times.  Self esteem at an all time low, doubting my desirability as a woman...Michael was there to pick up the pieces, build me back up and the man treated me like a queen.  He gave me flowers, put notes on my car filled with words women love to hear...he took me places, we had excellent conversations...he was a dream come true.  I just didn't realize at the time that I was a queen in his own personal chess game...and I didn't know the rules.

The Frog & The Boiling Water

The abuse didn't start right away.  Hello...I would have left! I just came from a marriage filled with lies and betrayal.  I knew what to look for, but that is not how this game works. Over the years Michael was my Knight in Shining Armor, my captor, friend and enemy.  He built me up to tear me down.  He gave me freedom and control to then take it away and eventually use against me..including my own thoughts. He loved my mind...I was smart, sexy and beautiful according to him...then I was stupid, ugly..nobody else would EVER want me...but him.  Nobody would EVER love me like he did..and three cheers for that buddy. I hope I never find another man that loves me like you, I'd rather be single.

Later, when I was in court mandated group counselling for abused women I learned about the cycle of violence.  My therapist explained how we all got into the boiling water of our abusive marriages.  Each woman who sat in that circle was abused.  Some of their children were also abused, some were not.  We all were overflowing with guilt and shame.  Many of our stories were eerily similar.  Did we marry the same man?  How could we allow ourselves to become so small?  How could we give our power away?  How could we allow our kids to be hurt?  Why didn't we know our kids were BEING hurt?  Why did we stay?  How could we stay?  You know the saying...Fight or Flight response?  What isn't often mentioned is the third function...Freeze.  We were frozen in place by fear just like a doe in the headlights.  To help us understand our therapist explained it like this....

If you put a frog in a pot of boiling water it's natural fight or flight survival instinct would set in causing it to jump out of the pot.  Right?  Right.  BUT...if you put a frog into a pot of tepid water then slowly turn up the heat it would unwittingly stay in the pot until it boiled to death.  That is a simple explanation of why men and women stay in abusive marriages.  They don't know what's happening until it's too late.  In the end there is a trigger, an invisible line is crossed that allows the abused to gather up their energy to leave...we all agreed the day we left our husbands we knew the real danger had just begun. (The most dangerous time for a woman who is being abused is when she tries to leave.  United States Department of Justice, National Crime Victim Survey, 1995)

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Every year when I read my journals I cry for the woman between the pages.  I yell at her to leave, don't be so nice and loving to this man!  His promises are all lies!  Don't believe him, he is literally crazy....  Please leave him now, get out.  Please.  I feel compelled to advise her at every misstep, hold her as she sobs silently into her pillow, bolster her up and show her the beautiful light that shines inside her.

What impresses me most about this younger me is that she kept her Pollyanna outlook on life.  Even while living in a Safe House for several months, a divorce that took 2 years costing her $15,000 and her abuser being acquitted in court...between the pages I find her relying on her spiritual core to help her through.  The abuse did not tarnish her positive outlook on life...as it does for so many, she held on to that part of her for dear life...and it saved her and the children in the end.   Back in those dark days it was hard to find the light.  What I found to hold onto is my internal  light...it's the fire of my spirit, my soul and it shall never be extinguished by another.  That is a wonderful thing to learn about yourself.

Kristy

Why I Left, Black & Blue Prayer Came True

I left Michael in September 1998.

The morning after he threw my son, then a small boy of 9, against his bicycle that leaned against his bedroom wall leaving him bloody and bruised. My prayer for black & blue came true, but it blossomed on my son...not me...which was my trigger to leave.  While the "good girl" in me found it difficult to stand up for myself...you don't mess with my kids. I had enough.  I was done, but it wasn't over.

A Ninja Turtle Popsicle

The incident leading to my departure all happened because Sean purchased an ice cream with his own chore money from the ice cream truck.  You see his little sister, age 6, wanted one too.. naturally.  But Erin already spent all of her money.  She ran in asking daddy to give her money to buy ice cream while I was cooking dinner.  typically Erin had her dad wrapped tightly around her little finger...he would do anything for her.  Not this time.  Instead of giving Erin money Michael instructed her to tell her brother he wasn't allowed to buy one.  As she ran out I told him how ridiculous it was not to give her some money AND to have her carry out the message.  Michael often pitted the kids against one another.  My objections angered him because he was watching baseball and couldn't be interrupted or bothered to go talk to Sean himself.  In fear of him taking it out on me, I shut my mouth and continued cooking.  Erin didn't reach her brother in time so she came back crying that Sean got an ice cream and she didn't.

Ninja Turtle Popsicle

Michael rose from his seat in a blind rage...more because his game was being interrupted than being upset over the ice cream.  Storming out of the house he went after Sean.  When I reached the front door Michael was dragging a crying Sean through the rocks by the front steps leaving bloody streaks running down his bare knees.  Sean didn't fear Michael.  He hated him. He provoked him by calling him names and standing tall in defiance...until Michael threw away his ice cream.  Furious at the injustice of his "dad's" actions they both fought verbally while I tried to stop it.  Sean insisted he could buy whatever he wanted with his own hard earned money.  Michael began to tell him...FINE...then you can also pay rent for using MY baseball bat with your hard earned money.  Due to this incident Sean refused to ever play his beloved sport again.  Michael continued his rant....It'll cost you 5 cents for each square of toilet paper you use to wipe your ass, a penny for every drop of water used to wash or flush the toilet and $2 per meal your mother makes you with MY money.  How's that?"  Sean called him a fat asshole...which I (out of hysteria & amazement at his boldness) laughed at...Sean grinned at me through hot tears...Michael did not. He grabbed Sean's ice cream (a Ninja Turtle Popsicle) out of the trash and ran it under hot water to dissolve down the drain.

I watched in horror as Michael made his full transition from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde there in our kitchen.  You can (still) see it in his face... his eyes go blank, his posture changes, his facial expression turns comically angry and red...it's like watching an actor's portrayal of being possessed by a demon.  Michael grabbed Sean by the shirt collar lifting him off the floor as he forced Sean to his room...away from me.  Michael said if I knew what was good for me I'd stay put...I froze in terror, but followed attempting to get Sean out of his grip.  He shoved me so that I fell part way down the basement stairs. Sean started hitting and kicking him for hurting his mom.  The screams still flood my senses 14 years later.  Erin flew down to help me up crying and yelling at her dad to STOP.  He didn't.

By the time I reached the top of the landing I heard a sickening THUMP as Sean's little body hit the bike.  Screams of pain and cursing filled the hallway.  Another thump and all I heard was deep sucking sobs from my son.  My heart fell.  Anger took over.  Forgetting the fear I ran to his room where Michael was blocking my entry.  I'm not sure how I ended up in the room, but there lay the crumpled form of my son on the floor with his bike on top of him.  This image was burned into my memory.  Erin is the only one that does not remember this horrible event.  Later Sean called 911 reporting the abuse that I was too afraid to do myself...because he was a child they hung up and called back.  Michael answered the phone nice as can be...oh it must've been a prank call from his son...he'll take care of it.  Oh god no.  I ran to Sean's room and stayed there the rest of the night to protect him from Michael.  Erin was already in his room...they fell asleep in my arms as I lay awake planning our escape.

The next morning after Michael left for work I called my parents.  Between my dad and brother's they had us packed up and moved out before Michael arrived home.  I left my platinum wedding ring with a note saying I wanted a divorce and not to contact me until he hears from my attorney.  I had enough.  Put a fork in me..I was done.

Both kids were in counselling with the psychologist by the end of the week.  I didn't want my kids scarred for life.  Little did I know what awaited us...the kids learned to keep secrets too...even from me.

Kristy

I Prayed For Black & Blue

Endless nights I prayed for black and blue.

External signs of the internal beating that bruised my experience of love

gone oh so wrong.

In the end…when I asked you why…

You said it was to make me stronger.

You said it was to make me fight back.

You said it was to make me stand up for myself.

You said it was to make my skin thicker.

You said it was because you loved me…

This Mother’s Day would’ve been my 21^st wedding anniversary.

I am thankful that it is not.  Seven years of living in hell were enough.

Today I read through my journals.  Today I will remember. 

I remember so I will never forget.

I remember so I know how far I’ve come and what it means to be free.

I remember so I will see the signs and never be lulled into that darkness again.

I remember because you made me who I am today and am grateful.

I remember and thank you for making me…

Stronger

A fighter and a survivor

Able to stand on my own

Thicker skinned

Most importantly, I thank you for teaching me what love is not…and never should be.

Black & Blue.

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This week I walk down memory lane through the shadows of my domestic violence story...the seven years I was married to it and beyond.  Through sharing my story I hope other's will not have to live in a world of fear. Gone is my naïveté...in it's place is hard earned knowledge of a world I did not wish to know.  A world of invisible black and blue.


Kristy