Because
"I had no idea you had been through this," she wrote. "I am so proud and in awe of your ability to speak so bravely and openly. I feel strangely...comforted that another strong, intelligent woman I know has actually experienced this too."
She said that she had been trying to write about her own experiences for years and couldn't get the words out, but she was inspired to do so after reading about Maggie... and about me. She isn't ready to own her words publicly in her own name, but she wanted to share them to attempt to help other women feel less alone in a similar domestic violence situation. She is already stronger and braver than she knows.
I honestly hope this does not resonate with you, if you're reading this. [*Trigger warning]
But if it does, know that you are not crazy. You are not weak. You can get out of this situation. One foot in front of the other, until you're out the door. If you are nodding your head to any of this because it sounds so familiar, at the bottom of this post, you'll find links to national organizations to help you if you. Let someone help you.
* * *
BECAUSE
Because he was handsome, and charming, and smart, and hilarious.
Because he spit in my face, and told me I was worthless, and I stayed for seven more years.
Because he was adventurous, and full of fun, and brought me along for the ride.
Because he called me a whore when I got upset that a complete stranger at a crowded bar grabbed my crotch.
Because he planned romantic surprises.
Because I felt so very sorry for him, but my sympathy wasn't enough to keep him from turning on me.
Because he was strong, and I felt like he could protect me from anything.
Because the first time it happened I let the red marks show, hoping someone would notice and validate me and tell me to get out.
Because he was driven and ambitious and hardworking and wanted a better life, and I could relate.
Because after the first time, I hid the bruises and silently, sadly, joked to myself that I could tell people I "fell down the stairs."
Because when I looked in his eyes, I could see the sweet little boy he once was.
Because my brain was fully aware, but my ego let me think I could be THE ONE whose cycle of abuse didn't proceed in a textbook fashion.
Because he always sincerely, enthusiastically complimented my cooking.
Because he pushed me backwards out of my chair when I was angry that he wouldn't turn down his video games while I was studying.
Because we were inseparable.
Because he found ways to let me know I was lazy, and fat, and unattractive more times than I can count.
Because he made sure I had birthday and Christmas presents, even when my own family forgot or could not.
Because he hated his estranged abusive father, but began behaving eerily the same.
Because I knew in his heart he was a better man.
Because a random guy in the Applebee's parking lot said "That ain't right, man. GIRL. That.ain't.right." as those strong fingers squeezed my neck.
Because he had so many friends who saw him as such a great guy.
Because he drunkenly and angrily ran us off the road after a baby shower in a residential area, and I was sick with the thought that he could have killed us or, worse, an innocent bystander.
Because he could be a really wonderful and loving big brother.
Because I spent money I didn't have to prove my love with a birthday party, and he repaid me by bruising a one square foot area of my right hip and thigh. And I deleted the picture proof.
Because I knew he had plans to be a really great dad someday, and I thought he could be if he really tried.
Because every joke was at my expense. Like the one that fractured my tailbone.
Because he indulged my love of the sappy romantic comedy.
Because he distrusted every negative thing our couples counselor said, merely because she was a woman.
Because he loved to snuggle.
Because I was an uptight, humorless bitch if I asked for respect.
Because he told me I was wonderful, and beautiful.
Because I told the neighbors they didn't need to call the police, and they mercifully ignored me.
Because I know I have my flaws, and we both wanted to be better people.
Because he dragged me inside the house and, when I wouldn't stop arguing, slammed my head against the wall.
Because he tenderly and tearfully bandaged me up when he found me half conscious.
Because I lied to the police, but they took him away anyway.
Because his puppy loved him and missed him when he was gone.
Because I woke up with my hair glued to the pillow with dried blood.
Because I loved his family, and didn't want them to be disappointed.
Because the white shirt was so bloodstained even my beloved Oxi Clean couldn't save it.
Because I thought he was my best friend.
Because I bailed him out with student loan money and felt guilty he spent his birthday in jail.
Because he had become my family.
Because he knew himself well enough to know he probably couldn't ever forgive me, but he wanted to try.
Because he loved me intensely, more than he'd ever loved anyone.
Because he hated me intensely, more than he'd ever hated anyone.
Because he left me sweet notes to start my day.
Because I couldn't sleep at night knowing he had guns.
Because we had a hundred soul-touching, happy, fun, loving moments after that night in jail.
Because he grabbed my arm in anger yet again. And we both knew what was coming next.
Because I NOW know what it feels like to be truly respected and loved and unafraid. No matter any mistake I could possibly make--unafraid.
Because I got out alive, when so many do not.
* * *
Love, Kristin
Do you need help? Here are some ideas:
From Violence UnSilenced: Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or 1-800-787-3224 (TTY)
http://violenceunsilenced.com/resources
http://www.feminist.org/911/crisis.html
http://www.nrcdv.org/
In Austin, Texas: http://safeplace.org/
If you're new to my blog, this will explain my passion for supporting women in domestic violence situations: http://www.twocannoli.com/2012/01/why-does-she-stay.html