- Drugs
- Mental Health
Submitted by: Susanne Johnson
I have been told, and I tell myself, there is a time and a place to talk about such topics as violence and rape. I have a difficult time keeping that in mind, as people cope with trauma in many ways. I have found that I cope well by sharing my story with others in hopes that they can either learn from it or not feel so alone in their own experiences.
I feel that now is the time and here is the place to share. I am among a group of those who have succeeded and who continue to do so. I have the opportunity to share my story on this platform, and I do so eagerly and in the hopes that it can do some good.
I moved in 2006 to be with my fiancé. We quickly married. I became disabled with arthritis and isolated in my new home with no family or friends and with an emotionally detached husband who was verbally and financially abusive, a husband who thrived on belittling and degrading me. I leaned hard on the bottle and became addicted to prescription pain medication. I slipped into a deep depression and became suicidal. After seven years of marriage, I decided divorce was the only way out of what still feels like a nightmare.
I moved back home just as quickly as I had left and settled into living with my parents. My father was ill and passing. My mother was trying to cope with it all. For a newly divorced alcoholic, the pressure to stay sober became unbearable.
Looking back on it now, it’s easier for me to say that I was vulnerable and ripe for the picking for another abuser. The feelings of loneliness and despair lead me straight into the arms of a new man. I found myself accepting his offers to come visit me and check on my welfare. He said he was concerned about my sobriety, and I was happy to have some positive attention from a man. He followed through with his plans to visit. We stayed at a local hotel and spent some time being tourists. The visit was pleasant, although by the end of the week, his plans to leave did not go accordingly. He became agitated when I refused to pose with him for sexually explicit pictures he wanted to take on his cell phone. It was a constant request, and my repeated refusals infuriated him to the point of violence, dominance and eventually rape.
What followed next was a series of bad decisions based on fear and intimidation. My new boyfriend did not allow me to leave his side. I was kidnapped, and he threatened my life and the lives of the ones I loved if I were to stray too far from his side or “misbehave.” After three long, confusing and pain-filled weeks, I was at my wits’ end and could think of no other option but to run away from him. I tried with little success and was chased on a lonely, dirt back road of a small town. He caught me, and I was repeatedly beaten in the face until I could no longer stand and was laying on the ground at his mercy. Dizzy, confused and terrified, I was able to convince him that I was sorry I had tried to run away. He stopped beating me long enough to hear me apologize through my broken face. I told him I was sorry and that I loved him. I begged him to help me. When I could sense that he was calming down, I asked him to help me tend to my wounds. I said he could walk me into town so he could get cigarettes and then take me away to wherever he wanted.
I was alone in unpopulated woods. I could no longer see. My face was starting to swell shut, and the glasses I wore were broken during the attack. The hood he forced me to wear hindered my hearing. He made several attempts to take me back into the woods and hide me. After a failed attempt at escape in the small market in town, I began to panic and wonder if I would ever have a chance to get away from him safely.
I would eventually convince him that I could be trusted to be let into a local diner to refill my water bottle while he was on the phone with one of his contacts. Once in the diner, I turned and locked the deadbolt on the door, took down my hood and asked the nearest person I could see for help. I was brought into the back kitchen while the police were called. After this point much is a blur. I went into a state of shock. I heard them tell me he was in custody after putting up a fight. They asked me what month it was, who the president was and if I was sexually assaulted. I answered these questions to the best of my ability. I answered no when asked if I was sexually assaulted and told them I wanted to go home to my family. My father was deathly ill with cancer. I was desperate to be with them.
I spent the night in the hospital and was then released with a broken nose, fractured eye socket and concussion. I felt ashamed and tried my best to hide the bruises and bite marks on my body. Before going home I walked through the scene of the attack and led the investigating officer to where we had made camp the night before.
Within six days of going home, my father passed away. After my father’s passing I was diagnosed with PTSD. I struggled with drinking, with what really happened to me and with how to explain it to my family. As far as they knew, I had just been beaten up on the side of the road by a really nasty boyfriend that I had “run away with.” Telling them the truth so close to my father’s death didn’t seem fair. I felt no need to overwhelm them further and found comfort in other distractions.
I eventually reported the rape just days after my father’s funeral service. My attacker will be out as early as the spring of 2016. He was charged and pleaded guilty to second-degree assault. The rape case is still under investigation. During this time I have come to sense my ex-husband’s involvement. Picking up the pieces after such horrible events has been difficult and sometimes overwhelming to the point of wanting to give up.
After being released from the hospital, I was directed to a domestic violence shelter for abused women and was met with kindness and understanding. When I was desperate for someone to understand how my life unraveled so quickly, I went to old trusted friends and family. There was and still is a guiding light and an understanding support system out there. I just needed to stay sober, aware and simply ask for it. I was aided in overcoming the small obstacles I needed to get past to get my life started. I was helped with simple tasks such as finding an eye doctor sympathetic to my story. I was offered free legal assistance and representation for my upcoming trials. I was also carefully assisted when applying to the victim’s compensation fund to pay for hefty medical bills. I was even offered a comfy place to sleep and rest my head when all the decision making became too much.
My abuse and addiction issues go hand in hand. One could not have happened without the other. Through a tremendous amount of love, support and patience from myself and the people I now have in my life, I am a stronger woman today. I am surrounded by people who truly love and care about me. I am over a year free from my alcohol addiction and have healthier ways of coping with my issues such as writing, art and music. I honestly feel that if I had had an instrument in my hand instead of a bottle these last years, I would have avoided a lot of depression, binge drinking and poor decisions. Writing and music helped me through my recovery, and they help me continue to deal with my emotions and heal from the past.
I have now been sober for a year and a half. I am excited about whatever life has to throw at me now that I am stronger, sober and clear minded. Instead of abusing the pain medication I got for my arthritis, I started walking and lost about 125 pounds. This helped me better manage my pain, and now I don’t have to take the addictive pain medication. Doing yoga helps me physically and mentally as well. I have a wonderful boyfriend who doesn’t drink and offers the support I need.
Oprah Winfrey once said, “I have come to believe that each of us has a personal calling that’s as unique as a fingerprint—and that the best way to succeed is to discover what you love and then find a way to offer it to others in the form of service, working hard, and allowing the energy of the universe to lead you.” I now feel the need to serve and help those have moments or lifetimes of struggle. My plans to publish my story are well on their way to being fulfilled. Any amount of support, well-wishing and prayers sent my way for this personal mission is well received and appreciated. I look forward to sharing my story. I hope to inspire others and to get more involved in the tasks that will spread awareness about domestic violence in our minds, in our hearts and in the futures of our children.