There's a bond

Misti was discussing why she had stayed with the abuser. I knew the answers, but they needed to come from her. I would write some of her story and it couldn’t be mixed with my account of what happened.

There’s something that happens when you know another woman has been abused and knows the story. You share something other people just don’t know about. It’s an exclusive club--we’re victims--privvy to the dirt.

There’s a bond there. I was able to look at her and listen and not worry what she thought had happened to me. She knew. Ours was the same story. Regardless of the petty stuff in life dividing our lifestyles and perspectives, this was common ground. It’s something that seems inherent now. We’ll sniff the air and smell the same thing at the same time; because, we’ve both been there.

Misti talked about the little things, but the fear was there. That’s the thing about being a victim, you can smell it on other women who’ve been victimized. When they go back to that time, to that particular situation and experience the fear all over again; it’s a certain tilt of the head, a look that is different from any other--a deer in the headlights.

You know you’re going to die. He’s going to kill you and get away with it.

We have known that moment. When the abuser is standing over us, hair in his hands, pulling, tugging, wanting to rip us to pieces.

I’ve imagined a spot, curled up on a couch, lit by a warm fire, looking out the window, book in lap and surrounded by other women who know my story because theirs is the same. We need space, peace and safety. There’s a comfort in that space. We can tell our stories or we can just sit and listen. We’re without obligation and safe.

“The financial considerations played into why I stayed.” She was recounting the big why. Why had she not left before becoming a punching bag? Why did it take so much? She had become a bruise--black and blue all over.

The considerations are many and varied: fear, finances, family and community.

I thought she might break down and start screaming. She hadn’t worked through it. It was in the way she tilted her head, considering the abuser. Her speech pattern became erratic. The fear was still there; though plenty of time had elapsed, it was there.

In writing about abuse, my own issues came to the surface. There had been some avoidance on my part. I didn’t want to write about this. There were plenty of other demons to master; I didn’t need this.

I had tapped out the essay, First Slap, and worried about submitting it under my own name. Abuse of any kind is shameful. There’s a stigma attached to victims. Viewed as weak, dysfunctional and damaged.

I considered using a pseudonym. Then what? I would be taking the coward’s way out. I wasn’t living up to my own standards of conduct. An issue of abuse and cultural re-victimization is something worth putting one’s name on the line. Right?

Right.

Thirty percent of women who are killed die at the hands of husbands or boyfriends.

The dirt: Danny stabbed me twelve times in the face with my own car keys.

A photographer came out to the apartment and took several pictures I could never view. I knew what I looked like. I had to look at myself in the mirror every morning. I was swollen and bruised and there didn’t seem to be much humanity in the face that looked back at me. This was someone else--a delusion. It wasn’t me.

An officer had come back after interviewing him and asked, “why don’t you just leave him alone? If he has a temper just stay away from him.”

He received eighteen months informal probation in the San Joaquin County municipal court. The beating had been provoked.

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It was the only act of abuse he ever admitted. It was on public record, along with photos. Everything else was subject to debate. Being slapped was a love tap. Thrown outside in the snow with no clothes was a joke. It’s all a matter of perspective.

An Orwellian nightmare. Nothing is as it seems. Consider yourself fortunate to have such a great husband. He works and puts food on the table, allows you to go shopping. Just think where you might be without him. Consider yourself fortunate.

He’s not really a monster. He’s a loving husband trying to make a living and you happen to be getting in the way of his fists. Or his foot. He didn’t really mean to throw your face into the wall and mess that pretty nose up. Maybe you should learn to stay out of his way.

Why can’t these victims shut up and quit dwelling on the negative?

Here’s why:
* A woman is raped every six minutes.
* In the U.S., four women are murdered every day by husbands or boyfriends. * Women are tired of being beaten, raped and subjugated by abusers.

According to DOJ, Office of Violence Against Women, “During 2000, about six in ten rape or sexual assault victims stated the offender was an intimate, other relative, a friend or an acquaintance.”

The list of abuses against women is long. Physical, sexual and emotional abuse top the charts; but lesser recognized crimes against women should be considered, to get the full impact of what really goes on and why they remain in abusive relationships.

Mental abuse includes, but is not limited to: threats, degrading remarks aimed at the victim intending to erode esteem and defenses. It can include various mental maneuvers on the part of the abuser and usually progresses to physical violence.

• Thoughtcrime: think about leaving him and making a better life for yourself.
• You are nothing without him. No one will ever love you like he does.

Economic abuse includes, isolating women from their families, friends or support networks and aims at destroying sources of income; thereby, rendering the victim economically powerless. It’s one of the primary reasons women stay in abusive relationships.

Criminal harrassment, refers to stalking. Currently, one of 12 women are being stalked. There are two million cases annually in the U.S. alone, with 90% of victims being women. Most stalking cases involve a number of differing tactics by stalkers. Harrassment includes following the victim, spreading rumors, harrassing phone calls, threatening behavior, employing family members or friends in harrassment and internet cyber-stalking. Any kind of unwanted attention by the abuser toward a victim can be considered stalking behavior.

Has the violence against women issue become a dead horse? Is the victim’s lament cliche? We’re dying here--literally--and though the domestic violence crime rate is dropping, the question of whether women are reporting less comes to mind. When the breadwinner in a one income family goes to jail, it’s a no income family.

Trauma recovery is a tough road. It’s not for the squeamish or weak. It’s an individual journey every victim has to make if she’s going to move on. That’s not to say, baggage won’t be there--it will. Wounds heal, though we retain the scars on our hearts and in our heads.

In Judith Herman’s, Trauma and Recovery, the author goes into great detail about the value of intimate relationships in a victim’s life. The length of time required for recovery is related to the quality of those relationships.

Patience, affection, independence/autonomy and security all have their places in recovery; but Herman places a high priority on re-establishing trust in community and family. A larger percentage of victims lose faith in both while suffering through their experience.

Abuse undermines belief systems, destroys the psychological structure of self and systems of attachment that link individuals with community. Rebuilding takes a great deal of work and time and not all victims have the resources, support and connections enabling them to heal.

Will Misti heal? Physically, yes. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually--maybe not. If given the right information, support, a patient and loving family; she has a good chance. Without all of those elements in place, she’ll remain much like most victims do for years--in constant fear of re-victimization and disconnected from her own sense of worth.