Why Didn’t You Leave?

This year marks a new decade for me. A whole ten years of fleeing abuse. Ten years of me building myself back up, of not being afraid when my partner goes out, of not walking on eggshells, of not constantly being in flight or fight mode, and of breaking my codependency. Ten whole years - and I’m finally ready to talk about it. To my readers, you will be the first people who I have told this story to, and I hope it helps someone going through domestic abuse find their hope. There IS a rainbow, I promise.

I am 38 weeks pregnant with our second child. At this point I have already endured four years of emotional, verbal, mental, sexual and physical abuse. But this time it’s going to be different, he promised. He finally quit drinking, he got a job, we haven’t even fought in over a month. I can feel our little munchkin kicking my ribs when I realize it’s been almost two hours since he left to go get some hand-me-downs from his from his friends. I shoot him a text to see how things are going and no response for a half hour, so I try again. Still no response, so I call. Twice. The knots in my stomach start forming. I text his friends girlfriend. Sure enough, he is there. Finally my phone rings and that familiar slur on the other end breaks me. I’m so mad that he would drink this close to my due date, so upset that he broke his promise yet again. The yelling on the other end “can’t I go anywhere without you constantly calling and texting me! I’m on my way home”.

A knot forms in my stomach as I try to mentally prepare for him to come home drunk… and angry. I make sure our oldest is asleep, tidy up the house quickly, throw some laundry in dryer. I can hear him coming up the stairs to our walk up apartment… the footsteps sound angry and panic sets in and I quickly lock the door. He tries to open the door and starts pounding on the glass when he can’t get in, yelling incoherently. It flashes in my mind that he could break the glass and we would get evicted, the thought of calling the police also flashes through my mind but I know if I called and he got sent to the drunk tank he would come out even angrier. Unlocking the door is my only option in my mind, and I can usually calm him down after he’s gotten a few strikes in. But this, this was different.

Immediately the door flings open and he lunges right at me, his eyes completely filled with rage. He doesn’t even speak - he just immediately goes for my head; punch after punch after punch until I’m dizzy. His hands are around my throat now and I’m grasping at his arms. All I can think about are my babies. I can hear my oldest crying, the baby kicking, and I tell myself I have to make it through this, I can’t leave them with this monster. I manage to wiggle my way out of his grip thanks to the alcohol he drank and I run out the door, down the stairs and bang on my neighbors door. The poor girl answers half asleep, here I am half naked because he ripped my shirt, bleeding, and heavily pregnant and out of breath. I beg for her to call the police. While she’s on the phone I hear his voice “come get your fu**ing son”. Horror washes over my entire body when I see him standing at the top of the stairs holding our son, he is crying and reaching out for me; his father using him to lure me back in the house. I run up the stairs to grab him, and get pulled back into the house by my hair. He continues beating my head, while I’m holding our child.. both of them. I instinctively lean over to protect my baby while I continue to get beat on, he is wailing at this point. Finally he falls backwards on his drunken stupor and I break free while carrying him, running back down the stairs as I hear the police pull in. I am exhausted and in shock, I don’t even feel the pain. The police officer walks into the house and tells me he will be charged, and asks if I want to call anyone. I call my parents and suddenly am hyperventilating and crying as I finally tell someone for the first time in years… “he beat me up mom”.

As I’m brought into the ambulance the realization that our life has just changed forever sets in. I carry my oldest on my lap while the EMT checks me over. Guilt sinks in when he starts screaming at the man touching me, knowing that at only 18 months he felt the need to protect his mother. He would be later diagnosed with ptsd and years of therapy would follow. All because I had this obsession with keeping my family together, even if it wasn’t healthy. At the hospital the nurses and doctors check me and my unborn baby out completely, thankfully nothing serious had occurred physically - the baby was not in danger and I only had superficial wounds, and a mind full of trauma. A nurse comes in to talk to me and tells me that she too was a victim of domestic violence, and she told me the best thing someone could at that moment: I was at a crossroads. I could choose to continue this cycle, or I could choose freedom. I chose freedom.

The adjustment of becoming a single mother of a toddler and a newborn was surprisingly not that difficult for me. I was free without the stress of wondering when he was going to be in a bad mood. I was free to do the dishes tomorrow. Free to sleep whenever I wanted. Free from having anxiety attacks when he was out with his friends. I realized that he really did not do anything to help me when he was there. The kids were happy, and living in a stress free, loving home. The Financials were a bit difficult but because he rarely kept a job I was used to my lifestyle. I went back to school, I got my first ‘big girl’ job, I met someone new who treated my boys like his own. My point is, I survived. And you can too.

As for the question, why didn’t I leave? I didn’t leave because I wasn’t strong enough. I had a serious codependency issue, I didn’t think I could do it on my own, I didn’t think I was good enough to deserve happiness, I believed not everyone gets a happy ending. But sometimes life throws lessons at us to prove we are not who we think we are, we are better! YOU can get away, you ARE good enough, and you deserve happiness. I hope if you are struggling that you find your courage and you take your shot.