BONUS POST: Karen Finds Her Way

Content Warning: Content may be disturbing to some. Depictions of violence, abuse, and rape as told from Karen’s point of view during a meeting of the domestic violence support group.

One upon a time, I was a different person. If you’d known me then, you would have noted how carefree and confident I behaved. Hardships were a part of life that I was determined to rise above and nothing was going to get me down. I had bright dreams of the future with goals in mind.

Then, I met Nightmare. That’s what I call him now, but at the time, I had no inkling of the person he was. His true self. While we dated, you could say there were red flags I should have noticed. But they all whizzed right by me as if they hadn’t existed at all.

I refused to “make a big deal” of little signs and clues, insisting he was protective and his actions were born of love.

After we married, little by little, his mask slipped until it was completely gone. In the process, he turned me into what he wanted me to be, but hated the result.

By the time he played his final card, there was nothing I could do but leave.

When I left Nightmare, I went to a women’s shelter. It was there I was connected with a counselor. Not long after I began my sessions, she suggested I join a domestic violence support group. At first, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want the other women to know how stupid I was for getting myself into the situation I was in. But my counselor wouldn’t let up until I went.

“The average woman leaves her abuser seven times before finally leaving for good,” the group leader was saying when I came in.

“Hello,” she said, and I could have died for being singled out. “My name is Barbara. Please, sit where you like.”

With a reddened face, I slid into the nearest chair. There were two tables pushed together and the room smelled like coffee. It reminded me of my attorney’s office, a place I felt safe these days, so I could feel a bit of my tension ebbing away.

Barbara asked the women around the tables to introduce themselves. It would be more than a month of meetings before I could remember their names. But I would never forget the horrors they recounted while in our meetings.

After the introductions, it was my turn. “My name is Karen and my counselor Ronnie said I should join your group.”

Barbara smiled and said, “Ronnie and I are friends and she was right to send you in our direction. Sometimes, she leads this group with me. Why don’t you tell us something about yourself?”

With her question, my mind went blank. This wasn’t a topic I was accustomed to speaking about. Where would I even begin?

“Are you married?” one of the other women asked.

“I’m divorcing. It’s not final yet. Aren’t you all getting divorces?”

Come to find out, some of the women were already divorced and trying to get the courage to begin again, while others hadn’t even decided if they wanted a divorce yet. The one thing we all had in common was that all our partners had been nightmares.

Once the initial ice was broken, and I began talking, it was hard to believe how easy it was to let it all out. As if a dam had broken, my story came bursting forward like a rushing river that couldn’t be stopped.

“We met when he was in college. I was a waitress at a diner he used to frequent. He was kind of a small guy, about my height, thin, and not especially good looking with dark eyes hidden behind thick glasses. But he was sweet, opening doors for me, meeting my roommate. He had manners and was kind. It didn’t take long for me to fall in love with him. But while we dated, there were things he did that should have given me pause.”

“Like what?” one of the ladies asked.

“He didn’t look like the type to get angry or out of control. But when his temper hit, he was so strong. Once we were walking to his car and there was someone sitting on a step we both knew. He started an argument with him and even spit on him. I was repelled by that and walked away. I don’t know where I planned on going, but he caught up with me and told me he was sorry. I reasoned that anyone could have a lack of judgment, so I let it go.

“Another time, a guy we knew called me a bad name. I don’t remember why and I didn’t even tell him it happened. Later, I found out someone overheard, told him, and he hunted him down and smashed the guy’s face.

“At the time, I brushed it off because he always said he loved me and I thought he was being protective of me.” I paused to stare at my hands, folded in my lap. “It wasn’t until years later I understood everything he did was because he was controlling.”

“After we were married, everything escalated. Instead of following the dreams I had, it was my job to make sure he was happy. And he told me how to do everything… how to wash and fold his laundry, how to clean his way, how to cook his favorite foods. It wasn’t unusual for him to yell at me, pointing at a smudge on the wall only he could see. I would get a bucket with soapy water and while he stood over me, I would scrub and scrub the spot, the whole time having him scream at me because I’d missed it in the first place.

“When he came home from work, I never knew if I was going to get the nice husband or the enraged one. It was a tossup. Either way, there was a routine. It began with him demanding to know who I’d spoken to that day and who had been in our driveway because he’d seen tire marks. Of course, it’d probably been the mailman or something, but I still had to have answers for him. Or else.”

“The smallest things could set him off. Things that you or I would never notice. His entire emotional state changed on a dime and most of the time, I didn’t know why.”

As I looked around the table, the other women were quietly listening, some even nodding their heads as if they knew what I was talking about.

“There was a period of three or four months when my car didn’t work. He said we didn’t have the money to get it fixed, so I decided to wait until it could be. We lived in a fairly isolated place at the time. A local bartender stopped by one day and told me my husband had purposely disabled the car and bragged about it at the bar. I became so angry, I told this person my husband would never do that to me and I ordered him to leave and never come back. I didn’t want to believe the man I loved and trusted was capable of such a thing.

“I decided I wanted to go back to school and become a realtor. Besides helping us financially, I thought it would be a relief to be out of the house. It’d been ages since I’d had my own friends, too.

“At first he seemed supportive. But when I started making friends, he began putting down rules. For instance, I wasn’t supposed to be on the phone with them when I was home and supposed to be doing things for him. If he met any of them, he made a point of being rude.

“He had meltdowns because I was studying instead of cleaning his house. I skipped classes to clean, threatening my position in school, so I could do laundry and pick up the house. He never lifted a finger because it was my responsibility. I ended up skipping so many classes to make him happy, I failed out three times, having to start over.

“That is about the time he began raping me… sodomizing me. He’d never done that before, but it became common then.

“When I was finally ready to get licensed, a few days before my exam, my beloved cat went missing. I searched everywhere. She was an indoor cat but I thought perhaps she’d gotten out when someone opened the door. When I couldn’t find her, I asked him if he knew where she was. He only said she was gone and wouldn’t tell me where or why. I never saw her again nor did I ever find out what happened to her.”

Reliving this part of the story is what made me cry that first time in group. To my astonishment, the other women cried with me, some even rising from their chairs to put their arms around me and give me tissues. These people didn’t know me but their own experiences allowed them to feel the empathy I desperately longed for.

When we’d all settled down again, they waited with patience for me to continue.

“I passed the licensing exam despite the fact I was grieving the loss of my cat. Even though I felt beaten down, I knew I needed to do whatever it took to get that license. Little did I know, even then, how much I would need it.

“My husband had a loyal person in a wife. I stuck around a lot longer than I think many would have. And I wasn’t ready to let go even after all the things he’d done. The only thing, in my mind, that would cause me to leave was if he had an affair.” I looked at the other women again and knew from their expressions, they knew what was coming. But did they expect to hear how it went down? Even now, I couldn’t believe what Nightmare had done to me.

“He didn’t just have an affair. That would have been hard enough. She moved in with us and he insisted he loved us both. He wanted us to have a threesome and I refused. One night, I was lying in bed and he and his paramour came in. He held the back of my head, pouring wine down me that I didn’t want. It was all so he could have his tryst. Still, I couldn’t go through with it. The next morning, instead of apologizing to me, he asked me to try again!”

Gasps escaped the other ladies.

“Over the next few weeks, he brought me a pretty box of candies and I thought maybe he was trying to apologize. But then he told me I had to share them with her. When he left for work that day, he told me not to get angry when he kissed her goodbye, too. And, right in front of me, he did just that!

“Throughout all of this, I was horrified. There was this empty feeling inside of me and I prayed with all my might this dreadful situation would end. I told him this woman had to go. His answer was that if she went, so did he. He even told me to imagine what it would be like to be so alone in our big house. So, I let her stay. I didn’t know what to do.

“His anger got worse and worse. When I protested her presence, he threw things at me. Whatever was nearby. One night, I woke up with his face inches from mine, purple and enraged. He screamed at me while beating his fist against the headboard right next to my head. The message was loud and clear. Next time, that might be my face.” Since no one stopped me, I kept going.

“He and his paramour began sleeping together in the bedroom next to ours. I could hear them. When I confronted him, he said again he’d leave if she did. He even told me I could have a divorce but I was scared and stayed. I wanted my life back with my husband.

“This paramour did things, too. She emptied my closet of my things and put her stuff in there. I felt helpless and alone. All my friends had been chased away and I hadn’t any family. When I told my husband about the closet he told me they were just things and to get over it.

“A few days after this, his paramour suddenly left and he said she felt she had to because I was too jealous. I was too jealous! Can you imagine being told you’re jealous when she is the interloper and you’re the wife? It’s outrageous.

“But then, he said if I would still have him, he’d like to work on the marriage and get back on track. I nearly collapsed with relief. As always, I believed him.

“That didn’t last more than a day or two, though. She came back saying she didn’t have anywhere to stay. So, I was back to the same problem I had before. Except that time, I stood up to them and sent her away.

“My husband told me he knew she couldn’t stay, but for the next few days after that, he moped around, telling me over and over how much he missed her. It was clear to me that no matter how I felt about it, she would be back. So finally, I decided to let her have him and I left. For good. And now, here I am.”

During that first meeting, I didn’t even come close to telling them everything. Over time, I would admit it all. Mistakes I’d made, more things he’d done that broke my heart into thousands of pieces.

There were good things I could take from my experiences in this hell. For one, our union hadn’t produced any children. That would have been even more complicated and heartbreaking. Also, I escaped. For various reasons, not everyone did.

Through it all, joining this group was the best decision I ever made. I spent over two and a half years never missing a meeting. It would be a long time, years, before I found healing. When I came to this group, I began to find my way.

Author’s Note: I realize Karen’s story was a lot to take in. But now you know why she refers to her ex-husband as “Nightmare.” While Karen has been through a lot, her story is one of triumph because she removed herself from an abusive situation and sought help.

Below are some resources if you are being abused. Please take a moment and look over the wheel of violence.

Domestic Violence Hotline (US)
1-800-799-7233,1-800-787-3224 (TTY)

Domestic Violence Crisis Text Line (US)
Text CONNECT to 741741

Pathways to Safety International
833-SAFE-833 | International Toll-Free
crisis@pathwaystosafety.org

As always, I thank you all for reading, liking, commenting, and lurking, too,