As nurses, we often feel that we know how to help someone. We KNOW that a woman in an abusive relationship should leave, just leave. And we tell her so. But do we have any idea what leaving feels like? Some of us do.
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Imagine you got up from your computer right this minute, and walked out of your house knowing you will never, ever come back.
Maybe you had a chance to grab your purse on the way past the chair it's slung over, but more likely not. So you've walked out of your house with nothing but the clothes you have on your back -- not well chosen for whatever may come, but just something you threw on when you got up this morning.
Old sweats, maybe, and flip-flops. Not even a pair of real shoes. Your car is sitting right there in the driveway, but you didn't get a chance to grab your purse or your car keys, so it's useless to you now. You may never see it again, either, despite the three or four years of payments you have yet to make. You've got about 90 seconds before he notices you're gone and comes looking for you; 90 seconds to disappear so he cannot find you.
Do you run as far and as fast as possible, cross country and avoiding roads in the hope that he won't spot you? Do you try to go to a neighbor's house? Will they even let you in, both of your eyes blackened and your face covered in blood?
The neighbors have a good marriage, you know. You've walked past their house at dusk with your dog on a leash, and you've seen them all sitting around the dining table talking and laughing. That's what happy looks like. How can you knock at their door and ask them to hide you from your husband? Will they even understand how dangerous he is? Will being in their home put THEM at risk? How could you forgive yourself if their young children got hurt because they were hiding you?
Inside your house is your grandmother's dresser, your great-grandfather's steamer trunk and the mirror he bought your great grandmother as a wedding present. How can you leave those treasures behind? How can you not? Your computer is there, with all your bank account information, your passwords, your LIFE. The blue and white china you picked out when you were newly engaged and feeling so hopeful about the future and so happy about the present, the silver your mother gave you that HER mother scrimped and saved to buy. Your clothes. We're not talking about the contents of a walk-in closet here and the results of a lifetime of shopping prowess, but clean underwear, a nightgown, a pair of jeans and a clean sweater. Real shoes instead of the flip flops you're wearing, and scrubs to wear to work. Your mother's jewelry, your grandmother's wedding ring and the watch your parents gave you for graduation. All of that still in the house.
Your time is running out. Quick!!! What do you do? You want to live, but you don't want to live like this anymore, but you know you can't run in those flip-flops and you hear his heavy steps coming to the front door to look for you. What are you going to do? Disappear? Or convince him that you just came outside to get the spare jug of laundry detergent from the garage, go back inside and try to leave another day -- a day when hopefully you have your purse and your car keys and a change of clothes? If you're lucky enough to survive his anger for one more night.
