It was April 18, 2011. I could say it was a day I will never forget, but that would be putting it lightly. I like to think of it as my anniversary since I did not even make it to my first one. The memory of that Monday will always live vividly as the longest day of my life. It will also be the day I found myself again.
That morning at roughly 7:55am, right before I headed into the building where I worked, my husband called me mad that the computer was not working. I remember the name calling, letting it go in one ear and out the other because it had been happening more frequently now. The last thing he said was, ‘if this computer has a virus I’m going to kick your ass.’ Most people may not take this seriously, but after the last incident I was afraid this was real, something I never in my life dreamed about with the man I married.
In March of that year, he beat me the most I would ever allow him to. I remember being curled up on the floor on my knees crying so hard my skin began to burn. He ended up not only hitting me in the side of the head multiple times, but kicking me in the side. This was the last time I let him touch me that way. A friend once told me that when you come to the point in your life where you need to chose life or death you need to love yourself more.
Heading into my work place the tears streamed down my face with the same burning sensation as before only this time I could not stop. I remember feeling empowered with a small rush of adrenaline as I headed to my supervisor’s office to call Safe Harbor. Scared and shaking I made my plea asking for help, not knowing where else to turn. I was in Aberdeen, a place that was not my home, but my husband’s. This town was my prison with no family, friends, or anyone I truly knew more than a professional relationship because I had been secluded from everyone except my husband’s family. I had never even met any of his friends in the three years we were together, but there was ALWAYS an excuse why ONLY I had never seen them.
The day moved in slow motion from my meeting with the advocate to the ride to the police station hoping someone could help me in some way. I wondered how this little mousey girl could help me, why would the police listen to a story that is a month old, and how was I going to survive that my husband had manipulated my life to the point that I barely knew who I was anymore.
After my statement was taken the advocate and I went to the apartment that I knew as ‘our home.’ We grabbed boxes, clothes, bare necessities as he stood by watching eager to throw everything I thought we had away. Unfortunately, I had to watch him take the only thing I had in his world that I cared about more than my life: my dogs. With the car loaded we took off to the house that would be known as my home for the next three months.
Once checked into the house, I was supplied a ride to and from my night job only to return to the routine check in and retreat to my room where I cried myself to sleep feeling as though all the dreams I had for my life would now be washed away.
The days continued and soon just became dates and events on a calendar. There was rent that had not been paid, a threat to send my dogs to the pound, the need for safe place for someone to understand what was going on in my head, and the means of saving what was left of me at the apartment.
Within the first week Safe Harbor’s advocate helped me find a home for my dogs where they could be taken care of and visited on a regular basis. I was directed to a therapist who listened to me as I found the part of me that I had locked away the past years. My belongings or the trash that had not been raided by my husband in revenge was moved to storage where I would not have to stress about a monthly bill. Everything that followed shortly happened slowly and seemed to take forever, but it was the talks with the advocate that helped keep my head clear to be able to take care of what I needed to do as far as my husband was concerned.
Something I did not expect was for someone to answer a plea of what I felt was extreme need. On May 13, yes Friday the 13th, I was in a car accident. Most would be concerned about the vehicle or anyone in the car. I was terrified of my husband showing up, trying to be my savior, and suck me back into his world. Surprisingly, a response from the Safe Harbor advocate ensured I was safe. It had been a long time since someone had dropped what they were doing to help or support me. I could not have prayed for a better person who understood my personality enough to crack a ‘cute cop’ joke when I needed a laugh during this difficult incident.
The events that took place around the accident empowered me, leaving me more determined than ever to change my life. I knew I would need to continue on my own eventually even though it had become the most terrifying thought. With the resources available at Safe Harbor I was able to find a lawyer willing to take on my divorce case. I was able to save enough money and move out on my own with a roommate, my sister who is my savior as she takes on her motherly role in my temporary situation.
My story may not have the ‘happily ever after’ ending that I had always dreamed of since I was a kid...yet. I am, however, currently working two jobs to rebuild what was destroyed financially through lies over the last three years. I, also, continue therapy each week in hopes someday I will be able to look in the mirror and forgive myself for a past I cannot change.
