Mary's Story: The Nightmare, the Survival

by Mary Graves
(Park Hills, MO)

My name is Mary, and I am a two time survivor of domestic violence.

I have been married three times. Well, I was young, so very young at 20 and married the first time after I graduated from nursing school. He was a little controlling, but had a great sense of humor and all. I don't count him as an abuser, as he never hit me or controlled me as abusers do, he just chose the world of cocaine and speed for us, his family. So, I had to leave.

Here is where the nightmare starts; I was "waiting" for my first husband who had ended up in prison. We were divorced by then. I visited him and took his baby to see him, etc. Then, I found out he had lots of women visitors, so I cut it off, we remained friendly.

My Granny, by the way she turned out to be a sexual predator of me, more on that later, invited us to move in so we could keep her company, as my wonderful Grandpa had passed on. So, we did.

I met a guy that was 5 years younger than me, we began to date. I missed and ignored one of the first warning signs. We were playing cards and I playfully pinched him, and he went bonkers. So, I left him there, as I had a date with him, and went on my own. He followed me there. We had sex too soon, I was so lonely, and he was intelligent, funny and we moved in together. Of course, at 27, I missed all the signs, he began to yell at me for no reason, to beg me to let him stay there and thus proposed after less than 7 months after we met. Woops. Anyway, heck grew into hell, slowly but surely. First, he began to sexually abuse my oldest daughter who was 10 at the time, and hid it till she was 14. He took the car, leaving me alone with the girls, pregnant, and no way to the store, family or anywhere and never gave me a number or place to reach him. One night, he stole some tires. I called his Mom, to bail him out of jail. Here is another sign, she did not think it was a big deal, she said, well, no matter what he does, we stick together, no sense in being upset about it. Things went on. I took a night shift job at a local hospital. I was very tired as my pregnancy continued. I begged him to get a job so I could do part time in home health care, as it was easier and paid more. See, he was just planning to live off my wages, without any respect for me or the kids. I told him, I will quit then, and I took a chance and did so. He sure found a job fast, (more to support his daily wacky tobacky habit) than anything, I think. So, he worked 15 miles away, and I still worked for an in home health company caring for the sweetest, “failure to thrive” baby, cause his mom did not care if she had kids or not, and he had a tracheostomy and all. So, that added some more stress to me. I fell in love, and ended up calling CPS for the baby. I stopped to visit one day on maternity leave and what I found was his dad sleeping and the baby almost completely blocked off from breathing.

Back to me, my husband began to say he hated me, and f-u this and f-u that f-u, f-u, f-u, I bet he said f 40 times a minute. He began to cut me down, you look horrid fat like that. You don't have any expression on your face, my friends hate you. Oh, I forgot, not long after we were married, we went to his city to party. Long story short, at the end of the night, he wanted me to sleep, with him, while with another female. Looking back, I won't beat myself up, but boy - if you know what I mean. My self-esteem was so low! I thought I could not make it with three kids single. He then got a job, a two hour and 30 min drive to and from. I had taken off a year (for the first time ever, with our baby and went to take some more college classes. When I took those classes, he would say as I walked through the door, “hi, well whore, who did you sleep with today, huh? and on and on.

When I returned to work, I did in home health again and then received a promotion to Office assistance with nursing, a great job. He called all of the time, calling me a whore, a bitch, and every other word he could think of. He would threaten to run off with HIS kid. He did not take care of them when I worked, never cooked, did a dish, nothing. Their grandmother did. He would demand I meet him at client’s homes, and I could not do that, it is unethical to say the least. The psychological abuse got worse. If I took prescription drugs for my depression, and ulcer, which I developed, married to him, he would call me a junkie, a stupid, ignorant, ugly, bitch. Over and over in front of the kids, you are f-ing stupid, over and over. He never stayed home, began to go out with younger girls, and all this time abusing my daughter, his stepdaughter sexually, which I did not know about. He never apologized for anything.

We did have physical fights. Once he came home drunk, and we were wrestling on the floor. Well, he got up and made it to the bathroom. I picked up a big gallon of milk I had brought home, afraid he would hit me more, I threw it at his head, and it knocked him out cold. No one said what happened the next morning. He never helped provide clothing, household goods, food; you name it, shampoo, etc. The only bill he would pay was rent and the basic phone bill.

As I said, I have been in recovery for a long time now. His abuse was so horrid, it became sexual toward me, trying to get me to sleep with others with him, I found he was bi sexual, and had been staying up at his lovers when he did not come home from his job that kept him away. If I got a cold, he would scream, I mean scream a savage and horrid scream, insulting me and demeaning me for being sick...in front of anyone by now. He made sure I knew and everyone knew how I was this and that (lies) and how he hated me. One night he cut me with glass, in a car whom someone found him passed out in, who knew he abused me and broke out all the windows. Once, there was a high speed chase, as he began to be violent, and I had to get out of there, he almost ran me off the road, almost rammed the back of the car. I made it to my Granny's finally and she talked him down. We moved from a tiny town to a larger one. By this time, he out right did not just show hate, he showed vengeance, rage and every sentence contained you are f-ing stupid. I f-ing hate you. Well, I dropped a big bottle during the move and broke it, and all hell broke loose, he picked up a big piece of that glass and came for me, my throat. Luckily, a friend, a mutual one, if you will, a big guy stopped it, took me and the girls to his place for the night. Then he began to use meth. He was a horrid and deranged monster then. And that does not even begin to describe it. Also, I had started working out, it was my own time, to me and it was all I had to survive. I began to take more pills to kill the pain, but I did not get out of control.

It was about then, I began to have suspicions about him assaulting and my oldest daughter. Long story short, it was true. I went to the police. You won't believe this, the system was using him as an informant and building the city's drug case they wanted done. So, even though he had no legal rights, they let her return home with him that night. He had also come to the gym that night and that was when I snapped and knew it was time, went home, asked my daughter what I needed to know, she said nothing, she did not have to. He would not let me take my 3 year old son, the cops let his victim go with him, so my middle girl was the only one I had. You see, in my story, the system failed me.

I never got custody of my son, his family had all the money for a custody case, the prosecutor had told me unless I ran across $5000 dollars soon, he would not file the charges of child abuse. The CPS had him. My daughter admitted to all of it. There were tape recordings, letters and other evidence, her word, and two of her girlfriends admitted he had molested them and since I did not or could not come up with $5,000 that one day, I lost it all.

My Granny, long story short, had a man who had more money than ever. He wanted to help me, but my granny would not let him. Another thing, my oldest died, without resolution, her offender free with partial custody of my three year old. One day, I came into Granny’s bathroom to run bath water, she came in, pulled down her drawers and well, it was lewd, she was coming onto me, and this eventually triggered memories.

Not all has been resolved. A child molester got free and primary custody of my son. My son has heard his father talk so bad of me, he thinks he hates me. Still.

I learned faith, strength, compassion, forgiveness, and fought my way up to recover. He abused me in ways I cannot begin to mention here. Today, I am in college, and will earn my Masters in Women's Studies. My dream is to build a battered women's treatment center, not a shelter, but a long term treatment center with all sorts of services, a pool, all sorts of therapies, and it will be on a therapeutic equestrian ranch, so the residents can have this sort of therapy. I had horses for years and had to learn in my 20s how to care for them and it empowered me, I know how therapeutic it can be for victims of domestic violence.

Today, I am married to a wonderful Christian man; there is nothing he would not do for me. I am blessed! I am lucky I survived. Oh, somewhere in all of this I acquired 13 years of continuous sobriety! I just started a writing career. I am working on a meditation book for victims of domestic violence, and a series of poetry for women's empowerment for a contest, I am learning the ropes about writing for greetings card, have a silly cat, and life is great. Life is as it should be.

"Peace is not an absence of war; it is a virtue, a state of mind, a disposition for benevolence, confidence and (personal) justice.” Benedict De Spenoza.