Domestic Violence and the courage to finally walk away

October. For many it’s the time of year that Summer heat is finally gone, the color of leaves changing, and the perfect excuse to buy that “Halloween candy”, but have it gone weeks before trick or treaters knock on your door in search of that kit kat bar you were never really willing to just “give away”.
For others, it’s a month of awareness for that sensitive subject that people want to support, but can’t always quite relate to or fully understand. Domestic violence awareness month, and its infamous purple ribbon.
You see tragic stories of it all the time highlighted in the news. Women beaten, more often than not, left for dead. What you don’t always hear or read about, are the stories of the successful women that manage to walk away undefeated. Survivors just don’t want to talk about it. If they stay silent, then it never happened right?
What does one actually define domestic violence as, in terms of abuse? You hear abuse, you automatically think physical. Bruises, cuts, broken bones. But what about mentally or emotionally? Most of the time, this is the abuse that goes unnoticed, completely unseen, and not acknowledged. It can also be the most deadly, and the most permanent life shattering experience. Physical marks eventually fade, wounds heal, scars get covered up and forgotten. Life goes on. That is, of course, for the ones that survive it. But how does a person escape and move on from voices in their head downgrading and belittling them? No matter how much time goes by, they are the voices you never really forget.
I say this because, well, I am a survivor.
I had myself convinced I’d never make a big deal out of it. 7 months of my life that could be forgotten, I’d put it behind me as just a bad ex boyfriend that turned out to be a loser and I’d just move on.
Sadly, it just wasn’t that easy. First of all, the first time I ever became a victim, it wasn’t even physical. It was emotional, and I ended up making excuses for him to blame myself for everything that had occurred. Tell a man you’re seeing casually that you’re pregnant, and you somehow end up being the one to blame. Tell the same man you plan to keep the child, and not only does it escalate to you being dumb and a bunch of other vulgar names for wanting a baby by someone who has no desire to commit to you. Try and walk away to do it on your own, and get your tailbone broken as a result of being pushed down a flight of stairs.
Then make excuses and convince yourself he did all those things for good reason. And had you just listened to him, none of it would’ve had to happen. Followed by turning casual into relationship, and endure months of fights, beatings, crying and restraining orders that would end up being violated repeatedly.

Looking back on it all just over 2 and a half years later, I can’t understand why I let it get the way it did, and why I didn’t just tell people the truth. So many months of covering it up, just to turn around and cry every night because pretending to be happy with him in the public eye, was killing me more than the actual abuse itself. I was dying inside. And my biggest fear was that my unborn child would suffer because of it.
I have been strangled, shoved, stepped on and tossed around like a rag doll. I have been stalked, harassed and talked down to like some sort of personal slave. I have been assaulted in ways that the term rape can’t quite truly define. And I have died a million deaths inside my head and my heart from depression that the strongest antidepressants could never fix.

The darkest hours of my life eventually became the biggest stepping stone. I became a better mother to my son, who thankfully never witnessed what I endured. And soon after, a better mom to my daughter, whom despite 7 months of abuse, I carried full term with no issues on her end. I was thankful for the life I managed to give her, and the life I sheltered my boy from. I kept the pain from them, so they’d grow up stronger than ever.
I also learned to love not only my children, but other people. The walls I had built around myself have since then been removed. And although no amount of domestic violence awareness can ever remove the violence itself from society completely, I know that the more we talk about it, the more women and men can learn that they’re not alone in this fight, and that it’s ok to walk away. It’s ok to fight back.

Being a victim is not the end of the road. Rather, just a speed bump. There is a bright light at the end of that darkened tunnel. And you will survive this, I promise.