- Alcohol
- Mental Health
Hello, my name is Christine A. I am a psychology major with a concentration in criminal justice and electives in human resources and substance abuse. I am a domestic violence survivor who has been through all three forms of domestic violence: physical, mental or emotional, and sexual. I am 27 years sober and can hold my head high.
This is my story of the abuse I went through. I am not telling it to make you feel sorry for or pity me. Not many people know I am a domestic violence survivor, and sharing this story is very hard for me.
The first time I was abused, it was by my first husband. He was an alcoholic. We had been married for five months, and I was working three jobs at the same time to keep money coming into the house. He didn’t work because of a disability and the alcoholism. He was a terrible person when he was drinking. If I didn’t have his breakfast, lunch or dinner ready, well, you know what would happen. If the housework was not done, he would go off on a yelling and hitting spree.
I decided that I would start drinking to forget his abuse, his lies and his cheating. I had a weekend off from all three jobs, and my mind and body just wanted to shut down, but I could not let that happen. He wanted to go to a friend’s house to a party, and I said, “Yeah, let’s go.” I drove us to his friend’s house. I sat there for a little bit thinking to myself, “You are driving, so you are not going to touch a drink.” I was fooling myself. I saw the 12 different hard liquors and the beer. I was not much of a beer drinker, as I didn’t like the taste. I decided to take a 2-quart pitcher and mix the liquors together: vodka, whiskey, tequila, gin, rum, bourbon, brandy, peppermint schnapps, mescal, ouzo and moonshine.
We started playing poker for drinks. I’m not a good poker player. I remember the first few glasses of whatever you want to call it, and after that I don’t remember anything. I woke up in the hospital two days later, and the doctor told me if I had had one more drink I would be dead. Friends told me that I almost killed a young man by choking him and that it took three big, hefty guys to pull me off. I don’t remember what happened, so I don’t know if that part is true, but it was my wake-up call. I had tried to kill myself by drinking. I didn’t want to go through the abuse anymore.
I left my husband and went back to my parents’ home. I tried to get back with him after all that, because he was my first husband, and I didn’t want to be a “failure.” I set up appointments with a marriage counselor. I was paying for it out of my own pocket, but he never showed up. That was the final sign that the marriage was over.
The second time is my hardest time to tell anyone about. It happened in 1996 about eight months after my dad died. I was dating a guy and had met his sister and her family. Everyone seemed nice, but they forgot to warn me that the guy had been in prison for domestic violence.
We got along great until one cold winter night. I was sick with walking pneumonia, and I had to get up early to go to work. The bus was not running because of the weather, so I had to walk the two miles to work. I was fast asleep around 11pm. He came upstairs and woke me up to have sex. I told him I was not feeling well and just wanted to sleep. That made him angry at me. He jumped on top of me, held me down and tried to force me. I was able to get away and was going to go downstairs to get away from him and sleep on the couch. I got to the top of the stairs, and he pushed me down the stairs. I feel down 15 stairs, hit my face on the wall at the landing and fell down 3 more stairs. I managed to crawl to the phone and dial 911. He hung up the phone and went to the kitchen looking for a knife. I called 911 back and told them what had happened. The police were there in no time. I was naked when the police came in, crying and scared. I was so so embarrassed. The police took him outside, and he faked a heart attack to try to keep from going to jail. The EMTs took both of us to the same hospital. After the x-ray techs took x-rays of my neck, two police officers came in and started to ask me questions. One of them said that the guy wanted to talk to me. I started to cry and shake. I told police officer no and that he tried to kill me. The police said he was going to jail for the night and I should find another place to live. I had a separated shoulder, fractured nose, cuts and scrapes.
The hospital released me after a few hours. I went home and cleaned up the apartment. There was blood on the stairs, on the phone and on the floor. The next day I called a domestic violence shelter in my area. They were able to get me in. I had to take my dog to the animal shelter. I left his cat for his family to take care of. I had to have workers at the shelter help me get undressed to take a shower and get ready for bed. It was embarrassing. The next day I went to court to get protection from an abuser. The guy did not show up to defend himself. At the preliminary hearing my district attorney turned against me due to my depression and medication use. I wanted to go to trial, but my attorney said no.
I was afraid to go to work, but I thank God for the great people I worked with. They had a van that would pick me up and take me home. A couple of the guys I worked with would walk me out to the van. The guy I had been living with violated the restraining order, but the police were his friends and did nothing. I ended up in a psych unit because I tried to kill myself. I was determined that I was going to kill the guy that hurt me as well.
I went to his sentencing hearing to say my part, and I had a female distract attorney this time. They called us up in front of the judge. They stood him right next to me. I turned so I could only see my attorney. You can’t imagine how scared I was. My attorney asked me questions, and I was crying. The judge had trouble understanding me and asked me to sit down. The guy then had a chance to speak. I was crying so badly that the lady from the domestic violence shelter had to take me out of the court room. The court’s minister came out and tried to calm me down, but that didn’t work. He didn’t know what I went through.
The guy that hurt me got two years of probation.
You would think after all that I would have learned the signs of an abuser, but I hadn’t. My second husband was a control freak. At first he was the model husband around my family and friends. He would help me with the chores, he would cook and he would be by my side when I was in the hospital. We moved, and he did a complete 360 on me. He became mean and controlling. He was calling me names, accusing me of cheating on him, putting different bills in my name without my knowledge, ordering thing in my name and buying medical supplies in my name.
I put up with him for eight long years. If I didn’t do what he wanted, he called me lazy, a whore and every bad name he could think of. I had to work; take care of him, the dogs and the hotel room we lived in; cook; do the grocery shopping and do the laundry. There would be times he was sick and took a week off of work (we both drove taxi), and I would have to work his shift plus mine. Both shifts were 12-hour shifts. If he was sick, you can imagine my hours. I got sick of being behind the wheel of the taxi.
I started going to counseling, but he wanted to go with me. He made me out to be the bad person. He would deny me medical treatment at times because he didn’t want to take me to appointments. Towards the end of the marriage the abuse became physical. He would hit me and throw things at me. I wanted to kill him, but I stayed because of the dogs. You may think they were just dogs, but they were my kids. I had to find a way out. I was in a strange state and didn’t know where to turn. I had no family and no friends.
He finally gave me my out. He threw me out because I refused to drive an unsafe taxi. The brakes were bad. I called a friend to take me to the police station and went into a shelter until I had enough money to catch a train back to my family. He tried everything to get me to come back and went as far as saying he had colon cancer and they need to remove 25 feet of his colon.
After all this, one thing I have not done is let my past be my guide to dating. Not all men are bad, but I am cautious, and I look for the red flags. I am now with a wonderful man who is supportive and encourages me. He has been through domestic violence and childhood sexual abuse and is a survivor too. My experiences made me a better and stronger person. To any woman that has been abused, or is going through it, I know what it is like. I may not have gone through the same exact thing as you, but I know.