Domestic Violence: What Leaving Feels Like

Published

Specializes in CCU, SICU, CVSICU, Precepting & Teaching.

I've written about domestic violence several times - if my story can help someone else to see their own situation through clearer eyes and perhaps get out of the relationship, it's worth the discomfort of reliving my experience. But I've never written about what happens AFTER you leave, and we all know that leaving isn't the happy ending to an instructive tale. Leaving is just the beginning of the struggle to rebuild and reclaim your life, your relationships, your self-esteem. If you counsel your patient or your sister or your friend to leave, think about what that might be like.

Leaving is the most dangerous time in a violent relationship. A man who senses - or fears - that he's losing control of his partner is a dangerous man. More women are seriously hurt or killed when they're trying to get out of the relationship than at any other time. I was lucky there. We were on vacation, away from our home and away from the guns he kept here. I got the door of the car open somehow while he was strangling me at the side of the road, and when I passed out, I fell out onto the road. My dog jumped after me. And I was stranded on the side of the road with the clothes I was wearing and my dog. (The other dog, the female, got her leash tangled in the gear shift when she tried to jump out; my ex-husband kept her until weeks later, when he decided she was too much trouble. Which was sad for her, because she was never the same afterward.) I left my purse, my jacket, my luggage , my camera and one of the dogs behind. And there I was at the side of the road, 300 miles from home with my dog and nothing else. I was grateful when my abuser drove off and left me there - I felt blessed to be alive.

What do you do in that situation? It was long before cellphones. I found a payphone and tried to call the police, but it was a small town and only one cop was on duty that day. I left a message, but never heard back. It's not as if I could have left a callback number. This was in 1987. No cell phones. And then I didn't know what to do. I sat in a laundromat, next to the pay phone, and waited for my situation to sink in and inspiration to strike. And then I called work, collect, to tell them that I wouldn't be in the next day. I was lucky that Alice answered the phone - an assistant manager who had been friendly to me. In between gigantic sobs and gulps, I blurted out an outline of my situation. "Where are you?" she asked. And when I told her, she said "IT's slow today. I'll be there as soon as I can." Five hours later, she had driven 300 miles to pick me up at a laundromat in a small town where I'd been sitting and crying for most of those five hours.

I was lucky. I had a job, enough money in a secret bank account to rent myself a place to live and found an understanding landlady who read between the lines of my situation and let me keep my dogs. I got to go back into my house a few days later and get some of my things. It could have gone so much differently. We were living in Air Force housing at the time, and my military dependent card was in the purse that I didn't have. Without it, I couldn't even get on the Air Force Base to get to my house. It turned out that the domestic violence counselor at the YWCA was married to a pilot. She drove me, Alice and Alice's boyfriend onto the Base and I was able to get into the house and load up my compact car (still parked in front of the house, with a spare set of keys stashed in the trunk that wouldn't lock) and the boyfriend's station wagon with as much of my stuff as we could get. The furniture, pots and pans, dishes - all of that was mine before I married. I got what I could and left the rest. My female dog wasn't there - turns out she was at the vet's recovering from an injury that she hadn't had the last time I'd seen her.

Alice's boyfriend, while willing to help, clearly didn't understand the situation despite having had it explained to him repeatedly. He kept saying "We'll go back and get the rest of your stuff tomorrow." He didn't understand that there wasn't going to be another opportunity. My husband changed the locks.

What do you take when you leave your house knowing that you have a few hours to pack what you can and you'll have to leave the rest? I took the photo albums, the family Bible, my grandmothers' jewelry, my clothes and as much of the other stuff as I could get. For years afterward, I'd go looking for something only to realize it was back in that house.

Forty eight hours after being stranded on the road side, I had found a place to live, moved in, unpacked and then sat down on my one chair staring at the wall and wondering what in the world I was going to do next.

For another one of my articles in this series about domestic violence please read:

Domestic Violence: The Elephant in the Room

https://allnurses.com/general-nursing-discussion/domestic-violence-rebuilding-1020723.html

Up Vote Up Vote ×
Specializes in Complex pedi to LTC/SA & now a manager.

This is what people need to read, however I know you were extremely lucky as you could have been locked out, barred from the base, shot on sight and not be here to tell your story.

You survived. You were fortunate to have a manager that listened and wasn't afraid to act, and in doing so risking her own safety.

Just this week a police officer killed his significant other with a machete before killing himself.

Earlier this year an officer in NJ shot his wife in cold blood while their child was in the car watching.

Not everyone is "lucky" to survive with only injuries and nightmares.

If one person is inspired to action by reading your articles, is that person that answers the phone and says sit tight I will be there to come get you or picks the children up from school mid day or breaks into the house to rescue the dog/cat/iguana whatever...

Up Vote Up Vote ×
Specializes in Pediatrics, developmental disabilities.

What a powerful story. Thanks so much for sharing. I hope this reaches the hands of someone in a similar situation.

Up Vote Up Vote ×

Thank you for writing this. I spent 3 years married to a very violent, abusive man. It was by the skin of my teeth and the grace of God I made it out. The list of things he did was endless. When pregnant with my daughter, I was in and out of the hospital the whole time, once six times in a month, all because of him. He wold starve me, pour bleach on me, and tried to light me on fire jus to name a few. I remember wanting to die every day, even picturing myself in a coffin. The only thing that stopped me was my daughter I was carrying. My OB and the nurses of the L&D ward saved my life, and that's what inspired me to become a nurse. I have a year and a half before I will have my RN, and three years ago when I was with him, I didn't even have a GED.

Everything I would try to leave him he would either beat the hell out of me or take my daughter. I finally packed all my stuff and left one day when he was gone. That was just the beginning, he stalked me and drove me insane, constantly threatening to kill himself. I got a restraining order and he eventually went back to prison, where he had done 4 terms.

It's been a long slow process but I have my life back. I'm in nursing school, have a great home and amazing boyfriend, and a beautiful happy three year old.

I've got a long way to go. I'm still not where I need to be, but thank God I'm not where I used to be. ;)

Up Vote Up Vote ×

Thank you, Ruby.

Up Vote Up Vote ×

I'm so sorry this happened to you. And thank you for sharing this.

Up Vote Up Vote ×
Specializes in Behavioral Health.

Thank you for sharing this. I didn't respond to the last thread, and I felt bad, because I appreciated you writing it.

I've never been the victim of domestic violence, but about three years ago I noticed some things were "off" in a friend's marriage and started talking to her about it ... I wish I could say I'd done something to save her. I spent a year talking to her by text and by phone because she lives on the east coast, I convinced her to speak to a DV counselor, and even to get out, but her family refused to help her, she had no friends (they were all his friends and disappeared when she left), no job experience, and they have two kids together. He's an ENT that makes $600,000/year and she's struggling to get by on $34k. He controls her through their kids and child support. So, while she's escaped the physical abuse she's still struggling under the emotional abuse heaped on her by both her ex and her family - that she made a mistake to leave, that she was selfish, that she gave up instead of trying to fix it.

I just... I want to fly down there and take her and her kids away. I want to throttle her parents. I want to find a way to end his career. A lot of things I don't have the means or the resources to do... and so I text her, and feel impotent, and encourage her as she goes back to school, and hope it works out. So, I love these threads, but they make me sad and kind of ashamed, and I wish they didn't need to exist.

Up Vote Up Vote ×
Thank you for sharing this. I didn't respond to the last thread, and I felt bad, because I appreciated you writing it.

I've never been the victim of domestic violence, but about three years ago I noticed some things were "off" in a friend's marriage and started talking to her about it ... I wish I could say I'd done something to save her. I spent a year talking to her by text and by phone because she lives on the east coast, I convinced her to speak to a DV counselor, and even to get out, but her family refused to help her, she had no friends (they were all his friends and disappeared when she left), no job experience, and they have two kids together. He's an ENT that makes $600,000/year and she's struggling to get by on $34k. He controls her through their kids and child support. So, while she's escaped the physical abuse she's still struggling under the emotional abuse heaped on her by both her ex and her family - that she made a mistake to leave, that she was selfish, that she gave up instead of trying to fix it.

I just... I want to fly down there and take her and her kids away. I want to throttle her parents. I want to find a way to end his career. A lot of things I don't have the means or the resources to do... and so I text her, and feel impotent, and encourage her as she goes back to school, and hope it works out. So, I love these threads, but they make me sad and kind of ashamed, and I wish they didn't need to exist.

That sounds like a horrible support system for your dear friend, glad she has you to talk to. :( my best friend was a victim of DV, her ex tried to run her over with his car. It took her months to be able to actually live life again and that was with everyone's support. It was so hard to see and I can't even imagine how hard it is to go through. So sad that your friends family considers it giving up. When leaving was such a brave thing to do.

Up Vote Up Vote ×

I like when (most) of the guys weigh in here. D and Mav, thanks.

D, by listening to her and being there for her, you are helping her. I know you know that. Just reminding you.

Up Vote Up Vote ×
Specializes in Dialysis.
I've written about domestic violence several times — if my story can help someone else to see their own situation through clearer eyes and perhaps get out of the relationship, it's worth the discomfort of reliving my experience. But I've never written about what happens AFTER you leave, and we all know that leaving isn't the happy ending to an instructive tale. Leaving is just the beginning of the struggle to rebuild and reclaim your life, your relationships, your self-esteem. If you counsel your patient or your sister or your friend to leave, think about what that might be like.

Leaving is the most dangerous time in a violent relationship. A man who senses — or fears — that he's losing control of his partner is a dangerous man. More women are seriously hurt or killed when they're trying to get out of the relationship than at any other time. I was lucky there. We were on vacation, away from our home and away from the guns he kept here. I got the door of the car open somehow while he was strangling me at the side of the road, and when I passed out, I fell out onto the road. My dog jumped after me. And I was stranded on the side of the road with the clothes I was wearing and my dog. (The other dog, the female, got her leash tangled in the gear shift when she tried to jump out; my ex-husband kept her until weeks later, when he decided she was too much trouble. Which was sad for her, because she was never the same afterward.) I left my purse, my jacket, my luggage , my camera and one of the dogs behind. And there I was at the side of the road, 300 miles from home with my dog and nothing else. I was grateful when my abuser drove off and left me there — I felt blessed to be alive.

What do you do in that situation? It was long before cellphones. I found a payphone and tried to call the police, but it was a small town and only one cop was on duty that day. I left a message, but never heard back. It's not as if I could have left a callback number. This was in 1987. No cell phones. And then I didn't know what to do. I sat in a laundromat, next to the pay phone, and waited for my situation to sink in and inspiration to strike. And then I called work, collect, to tell them that I wouldn't be in the next day. I was lucky that Alice answered the phone — an assistant manager who had been friendly to me. In between gigantic sobs and gulps, I blurted out an outline of my situation. Where are you?” she asked. And when I told her, she said IT's slow today. I'll be there as soon as I can.” Five hours later, she had driven 300 miles to pick me up at a laundromat in a small town where I'd been sitting and crying for most of those five hours.

I was lucky. I had a job, enough money in a secret bank account to rent myself a place to live and found an understanding landlady who read between the lines of my situation and let me keep my dogs. I got to go back into my house a few days later and get some of my things. It could have gone so much differently. We were living in Air Force housing at the time, and my military dependent card was in the purse that I didn't have. Without it, I couldn't even get on the Air Force Base to get to my house. It turned out that the domestic violence counselor at the YWCA was married to a pilot. She drove me, Alice and Alice's boyfriend onto the Base and I was able to get into the house and load up my compact car (still parked in front of the house, with a spare set of keys stashed in the trunk that wouldn't lock) and the boyfriend's station wagon with as much of my stuff as we could get. The furniture, pots and pans, dishes — all of that was mine before I married. I got what I could and left the rest. My female dog wasn't there — turns out she was at the vet's recovering from an injury that she hadn't had the last time I'd seen her.

Alice's boyfriend, while willing to help, clearly didn't understand the situation despite having had it explained to him repeatedly. He kept saying We'll go back and get the rest of your stuff tomorrow.” He didn't understand that there wasn't going to be another opportunity. My husband changed the locks.

What do you take when you leave your house knowing that you have a few hours to pack what you can and you'll have to leave the rest? I took the photo albums, the family Bible, my grandmothers' jewelry, my clothes and as much of the other stuff as I could get. For years afterward, I'd go looking for something only to realize it was back in that house.

Forty eight hours after being stranded on the road side, I had found a place to live, moved in, unpacked and then sat down on my one chair staring at the wall and wondering what in the world I was going to do next.

For another one of my articles in this series about domestic violence please read:

Domestic Violence: The Elephant in the Room

Thanks for putting it into words. Everyone thinks leaving is easy, and its wonderful afterwards. My days immediately after leaving, were free fall. I lived with the constant doubt of having done the right thing. If you've not lived it, it's something that's very hard to understand. I'm just glad that those days are so far in the past...

Up Vote Up Vote ×
Specializes in Geriatrics, Dialysis.

Thank you for this series of articles. Domestic violence is cruel. Friends, even family often leave the victim feeling to blame for somehow not "fixing" a broken relationship. Even worse when the victim not only has to protect herself [or occasionally himself] but kids and pets.

Thank you for bringing up what happens after the initial step of getting out. Getting far away is not always an option. Finding a safe and affordable place to live is not always easy. Recovering cherished items is not always a reality. Rebuilding a life with limited or worse no income is beyond difficult, especially without the support of family and friends. Getting out must be hard, staying out is probably even harder.

Up Vote Up Vote ×
Specializes in CCU, SICU, CVSICU, Precepting & Teaching.
Thanks for putting it into words. Everyone thinks leaving is easy, and its wonderful afterwards. My days immediately after leaving, were free fall. I lived with the constant doubt of having done the right thing. If you've not lived it, it's something that's very hard to understand. I'm just glad that those days are so far in the past...

I hear that a lot: "Just leave and everything will be fine." It's NOT fine. Sometimes, it's not even an improvement on the old situation. You can live with him and watch his anger escalate and know when an attack is coming. Or you can leave, have no idea where he is on the anger scale and be surprised by finding him in your kitchen with a knife or outside your work with a gun. Leaving is just a first step.

Up Vote Up Vote ×
+ Join the Discussion