As a small girl you watch Disney movies and admire the princesses while dreaming of your own Prince Charming coming to sweep you off your feet. You dream of your wedding day, how happy and perfect it will be.
What Disney doesn’t teach you, your parents teach. The teach you right from wrong; that hitting people is not okay; that you need to be caring and supportive; and that if a man hits you, you must get away, get help. You know this and you know what to do in that situation.
What no one teaches you is that abuse does not always include physical violence. They don’t tell you about the emotional abuse, the control, the monster in the closet so to speak.
Some days I look back on my life, and am amazed at how different it turned out than I expected. Could I have avoided years of pain and suffering, mostly in silence? Did I do something to chase Prince Charming away and bring this angry controlling man into my life? When did he change? What did I do wrong?
I really did have that story book start. I met Prince Charming, we married and honeymooned at Niagra Falls. It was exactly as I had imagined.
Then he started to become distant, withdrawn, and short tempered. He would shout evil things as me and it would become so much worse when he was drinking. It was normal to him but it was so different from the man I met and married. Surely I had done something to cause this change.
I cried every day…what had I done? Where did this monster come from and when would my Prince Charming return? I waited; I accepted the anger and abuse; I thought if I did things ‘better’ he would be better.
At one point I had a vision of what my relationship was with him; I am a toy truck in the sand box that he owns. When he found me I was bright red, shiny and new. He was so excited with this new toy that he played with it every day; loved it. But then the newness wore off. Now the paint was faded, the wheels were flat, the windows broken, headlights were missing. Just a possession that had lost its appeal; useless and hopeless. That was me.
But for a small voice deep inside me saying “you deserve much more, get out now.” I finally listened. I needed to protect myself and my two beautiful girls. They must never be touched by this. I needed to be free before the quickly fading brightness inside me was gone forever.
I needed a plan; a process; supports; skills and a new future. I enrolled in college two nights a week. It wasn’t long before I realized I was good at something. My confidence grew with new job opportunities where I found positive people who continued to help me blossom.
Still trapped though, needed more to gain my independence. I needed control of my own dollars. Control is something you don’t get to have when you are married to a man who ‘owns’ you.
I got my own credit card; I found a career that could support me and my girls – real estate – and I found my path out.
It wasn’t a smooth path; there were bumps along the way; some more terrifying and life threatening than others. But it was clear to me I was never going back.
The years after leaving such an oppressive and abusive relationship were about surviving. Until one day I realized that I needed more than surviving. I found the YWCA and discovered that the abuse I had suffered had impacted me in ways I didn’t realize. There were signs and symptoms of trauma that I didn’t understand.
Today, I am strong; I am resilient; and I am my own best support. What I learned at the YWCA helped me to find my hope and my independence. I am no one’s possession. No one controls me. I may not have found Prince Charming or the fairy tale life I had dreamed of as a little girl but I have found myself.
My one last wish is that we, as a society, remember there are many forms of abuse and violence and talk about all of them. Not just the ones that leave visible bruises. Knowledge is the key; speaking up is the best defence.
