DEE

PHOTO BY RANDY BACON

DEE

“I Am A Survivor”

Let me tell you my story…

I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, physical abuse, and incest by a sibling. This all began at the tender age of 3. My trust was forever broken almost from the beginning of my life. I was used to being treated like garbage. I came to understand at an early age that no one was looking out for me. The little girl inside me would forever cry out for help that would never come. I think things like this make you crave or expect the same mistreatment throughout your life. I learned very young to keep secrets and to feel ashamed. I understood clearly that I was on my own. When you hear a series of facts like that it doesn’t seem at all surprising that my adult life developed into a whirlwind of domestic violence and gaslighting.

Unfortunately, my mom was not only a part of the problem, she too was a survivor. Statistically not an anomaly for sure, and I do not blame my mom for any of the things that I went through. She was bipolar and self-medicated with alcohol. The world was a much different place for her than it is for me. When I see projects like this it always makes my heart smile thinking how far the world has come in the last 50 years.

I met my first husband when I was 18 years old. He was so cute and so broken. He watched as his mom was raped by his father when he was just four years old. That same father went on to horribly abuse him all throughout his young little life until he was old enough to escape. I honestly didn’t think any of that would be a factor in my own story with him…until what he had seen he began to repeat. It all started with verbal abuse and gaslighting. Then one day he got angry at me, and he choked my cat almost to death. Then another day he got really angry at me, and he choked me the same way he had choked my cat a few weeks prior. Then it all became clear that what he went through as a child was repeating in our relationship. What I didn’t know yet, was why I thought it was ok.

Later, he and I divorced, and I moved back to my hometown and began dating my second husband. He was actually someone I went to high school with and had been rather familiar with. His family was so amazing! They would have me over for these big family dinners and we would all hold hands and pray around the table. Everyone laughed and got along so well. It made things so happy. I had never experienced family moments like that! It was incredible! We got married after dating for a short period of time. Literally, overnight the seemingly happy family completely disappeared and was quickly replaced by a bunch of angry frightening drunks. No more praying. No more laughing. I thought I had lost my mind. When my husband's youngest sister brought home her boyfriend from college, I got to see the same scenario repeated and then stopped again once they got married. It was my first clue that I was in over my head with this bunch.

As time went on, I grew more and more frightened of him. The violence was escalating, and he no longer seemed to care who knew it was happening. He had convinced everyone I was nuts. I was wondering about my own sanity too. He would come home and be so incredibly angry. He would say things like “You’re trying to make me look like a fool, aren’t you? You knew that big family BBQ was tonight, and you aren’t even ready to go!” I would beg and plead with him that I had no idea what he was talking about and to just give me a few minutes and I would get ready. He would always say it was too late I had already ruined everything, and he would just have to go alone. He would always be sure to make me feel like a complete failure. I just couldn’t understand how I kept forgetting these big important events and causing all of this drama. What the hell was wrong with me?

Then came Super Bowl Sunday 2005. His team was losing so he was especially salty. I knew things were going downhill when I laughed at a commercial and he threw the remote control at me and hit me in the head. It got worse from there. He continued to get angry and stood up and pulled a handgun out from under the cushion of his recliner. He pointed the gun at me and pulled the trigger. He had been drinking all day so he had double vision and when he shot it was a little to the right. God was with me that day. He was completely stunned at what he had done and just stood there with this look of shock on his face. I grabbed my son who was nine at the time and heard what had happened and wandered out of his bedroom we ran to the car and left. Luckily, I had been in contact with the local domestic violence shelter, and I had a safety plan for leaving. We spent the next year in hiding.

During my time in the shelter, they helped me find my voice again. I realized that I wasn’t crazy after all. I was very surprised to hear that what I was going through was textbook domestic violence and gaslighting. I still didn’t understand that I was really a victim of domestic violence. I just thought I was a bad wife. I thought I was stupid and that made people in my life angry at me. I came to understand that I was absolutely 100% a victim of domestic violence and had been all along. A few years later, I met my third husband. He was horrified by what I went through. I felt so safe with him. I really began to trust him. The years with him were probably the most damaging to me. Those 11 years were full of ups and downs, break-ups and reunions, violence, and softness, trust and distrust. I was constantly baffled by this relationship and my need to continue it. Luckily, with the help of my loving son, who was by this time fully grown, I found the strength to sever that bond completely and to find within myself the forgiveness and love I so desperately longed for.

Never give up hope on yourself or those around you. You never know when your Sonshine will show up and help you find your light.