Domestic Abuse is Never OK

Growing up, my mom and I lived under the fierce tyranny of a dictator; he was her husband and my step-father. We both experienced a great deal of verbal abuse and at times, it was physical.

We were prisoners in our own home. At random periods during my high school years, my step-father wouldn’t allow me to attend school. He used this as a threat because it was my only contact with the outside world. He was extremely paranoid and bi-polar. Sadly, we were the ones who had to deal with the effects of his ‘illness.’ 

I always wanted to attend college, but my step-father kept telling me I wasn’t smart enough to attend ANY school, especially college. I did a crazy thing with that information. I believed him.

My self esteem had been so crushed by his hateful comments to me that, as a young girl, I felt I must be really awful to deserve that kind of treatment.

I would often lay awake in bed after one of his rampages in which he would hurt my mom and try to plan how I could murder him in his sleep. I prayed he would die in a fiery car crash, and I seethed with anger at the intense abuse he put my mother through. I often pictured myself looking at him straight in the eye and telling him, “I won’t allow you to hurt us anymore, you fucker,” then giving him a fatal blow to the head.

Do I sound a bit calloused? Fuck yes. I still battle anger issues over it to this day despite years of therapy. How one man could get away with such atrocities blows my fucking mind.

I know the answer sounded simple enough, to run away. The solution seemed much more easier than it really was. First, we were observed as the model Christian family in our small, rural community. We would be hard pressed to get someone to believe us, and we had extreme fear of being found by him if we left. He had an uncanny ability to win at everything.

We sang in the choir (gag) and attended every fucking potluck to preserve the guise of normalcy. Of course, I always had to be under close surveillance of the almighty one lest I be tempted to share my plight with some unsuspecting church member.We were constantly threatened and controlled with a heavy hand. He would buy my mom clothes only a hooker would wear on a shitty street corner and insist she ‘dress up’ every night.

We became in serious fear for our lives as his rage continued to escalate. My step-father would force my mom into the car late at night and drive off into a remote area threatening to kill her first and then come home and kill me. Each time I wondered if I would ever see my mom alive again.

And then he kicked me out.  

Now that she was alone with him, it was only a matter of time before the threats became a reality. One night he took a gun to the side of my mom’s head after beating her up. We don’t fully understand why he never pulled the trigger, but we count it as miraculous. The next day, despite whatever consequences, my mom did indeed run away to a safe house she had discovered from the help of some Catholic nuns. I remember it was a terrifying day trying to get her out, and it took careful, decisive planning to pull it off. 

After she left, my step-father went ballistic and began stalking me at my place of employment, demanding to know her whereabouts. It was so bad that I, too, ended up having to hide at the safe house. 

Years later I saw my step-father again. He was taking medication now, he told me, and he wanted to ask my forgiveness for the years of torment he inflicted on us.

It has taken me a very long time to come to terms with this. My past is my past. I have a couple of options here. I can choose to wallow and brew in the unfairness of it all. I can use my history to validate any mistake I have ever made, or will make. I can blame fathers for their ability to seriously fuck up their daughter’s view of men and I can send him my therapy bills.

My other option is I can embrace my present because today is my reality. Each day is one more farther from the past.

I can’t let my past define me because if I do then I have allowed him to win. This is one battle where he isn’t going to have that opportunity.

I do have some absolutes in my life and I will hold to it for my entire life.

It is never OK to stay under the controlling hand of abuse, whether it be a spouse, friend, family member, employer, etc.

It is never OK to wonder every morning if today is going to be your last because of someone’s uncontrollable rage.

It is never OK to try and hide bruises from the pain someone has inflicted on you.

It is never OK to blame yourself for their behavior.

It is never OK to defend them.

It is never OK.