Abused Women: Why Do They Stay?

You are such a smart woman, why are you acting so stupid? That's what my mother and my friends said, countless times. Words I started to resent and tune out. I used to think this could never happen to me. In fact, I looked down in contempt onto these poor, misguided creatures. These women clearly had no idea what a good relationship was and probably did not know how to make a living for themselves and their children.

There is no collective right answer why a woman remains with a man who abuses her. Because she has temporarily taken leave of her senses and given over complete control of her life to her man? Because she was brought up in the catholic faith and does not believe in divorce? Because she bought into the sentiments of the country song "Stand by your Man"? Maybe. There are key factors present in any abusive relationship and you will find these key factors within my story. Fear, manipulation, money, all play a part.

For me it was not over yet. I could fix this, we had a chance and they all just did not know him like I did. He had a soft side, he was a poet, he loved me. If I could only find a way to reach him we would have the most amazing life together. You see when it was good, it was very good, just like in the old Tina Turner song. But the good times slowly waned and to this day I wonder what magical spell I was under. I was out of my league, I had become intrinsically involved with a master manipulator and psychopath.

I recognize myself in the guests on the Oprah show. I can gauge precisely where her studio guests are on the road to their emotional healing. I know if they have made the step toward recovery from the "obsession to somehow make it right" or if they are still struggling with the concept. The reasons for abuse are buried in our society and in our past. Here is my story and my opinion on why women stay in abusive relationships.

If a woman is still trying to understand 'why', then she hasn't had her AHA moment yet. Once you've had your AHA moment, that is all you think about and you start plotting your escape from your self-made prison, because you've just realized that if you don't, you will be front-page news one day. Once you understand it doesn't really matter why and that you need to get out for your children's or your own sake; you've begun the emotional detachment process. Sanity returns, fear remains for a long time. Peace and quiet - a room that doesn't resonate with screams and cries becomes paradise.

I was one of the lucky ones. I had my AHA moment and I walked away when I had the chance. Of course, by that time my self-esteem and my ability to think clearly had taken a severe beating. I remember the nights, lying in bed, listening to the sound of his footsteps on the pavement outside the bedroom window. Steeling myself inwardly for the assault that was sure to come, praying it would not.

He threw the bedroom door wide open, yelling for me to get up. Blinking blindly into the sudden light I realized he was swinging a baseball bat. Terrified, I got out of bed, my mind racing. If he got in one good hit I would either be dead or crippled for life. Adrenaline pumping knowing my life was in imminent danger I did the unexpected. I stepped forward and kissed and embraced him. Drunk out of his mind, surprised even in his foggy, inebriated state, he swayed a bit. The moment had passed. I survived.

For one split second I had seen the crazed look in his eyes, a look I hope to never see again as long as I live. I knew instantly that he would kill me and not even realize what had happened. Maybe for a few seconds the next morning, he would regret his deed. Then fall back into his familiar thought patterns, blaming me for his actions in that twisted mind of his.

We spent half the night having coffee, talking nonsense in the kitchen. This incident was the turning point, I knew I could not possibly be so lucky the next time. I was.

Sure, I planned my get-away a million times. Here is where it became tricky, I knew he would not let me go and was without a doubt capable of killing me. By this time, I knew his former wife had been to the hospital numerous times with broken bones. Suffice it to say that there was a business owned by me, run by him and that we lived together in my house. So, walking away in the sense of leaving everything was a difficult proposition.

I had already decided to leave, but could not find a way out. It was scary to realize a shelter would not be a solution. I found out that he was well aware of all the shelter locations across the country. It would probably be a fun game for him to find me. Gotcha.

Then came the ultimate blow setting the stage for my escape. Our bistro closed at one in the morning, by around two in the morning I heard muffled noises of people talking and laughing on the street. He was one of them. I heard shots fired and bolted straight up out of bed, my heart pounding, my pulse racing. I didn't know what to do.

He was different that night, beyond my reach.
For the most part, I blocked out the details of what happened that night. It began with him threatening me with a knife. There was a lot of commotion and the neighbor upstairs attempted to intervene and the police arrived. He settled down, I did not press charges and the police left.

An hour later, he erupted once more. He went out into the garden and shot off his gun. When he came back in things escalated and the next thing I knew he held the same gun to my head. Sitting there, a smirk on his face, half self-satisfied grin to be in control of the situation, half of him contemplating if he should pull the trigger. I hated him at that moment, raw hate, born out of my instinct to survive. It was the first time I made no excuses for his abhorrent behavior.
He pulled the trigger, miraculously the gun did not discharge.

The police had been called back and this time they took him to jail. He managed to throw the gun away in the bushes before they arrived trying to deny the whole incident. The neighbor helped find the gun and it was later established that it was an old model revolver that had been tampered with and was highly unstable.

I did not have time to contemplate my narrow escape from death. This time I filed a restraining order and changed the locks. "Hallelujah" you say. Not so fast, this is a story about an abused woman.

Six months later, he showed up on my doorstep, sick and looking like a wounded animal, needing a place to stay. I agreed to let him sleep on the couch. He stayed and I tried my utmost to hide that fact from everyone that knew me, most of all friends and family. Stupid and illogical of course, but nevertheless that is what I did.

In retrospect I shake my head in disbelief. I wanted a fresh start, I could not handle the business by myself and I knew our relationship was a time bomb, about to explode.

Strange, but in my gut I knew from the beginning that there was something wrong. I thought that the love and compassion I had to give would make a difference. So any ladies out there who read this and who want to override your gut feeling about a relationship - don't.

I was strong and confident once, thinking the world was my oyster and I could handle anything.
1. Mistake number one, it does not make any difference that you are intelligent and caring, willing to do whatever it takes. Loving such a man makes no difference.
2. Mistake number two, trying to figure out the why. That is not for you to figure out and not for you to fix.
3. Mistake number three, believing that it is impossible to walk away. That only means he has manipulated you into thinking that you cannot. Such a man is an expert manipulator.

Sure I wondered why. The difference was, that I no longer wondered why he did what he did to me, but why I let it happen. It has been a long and winding road for me, but I am free in mind and in spirit. I do not hate him or bear him ill will. Why should I, there is no need to dwell in the past.
It's over; I have taken away from this experience what I needed to learn.

The physical abuse was minimal in my case, a few bruises where he grabbed me too hard; nothing in comparison to the brutalizing that we all know goes on every day. I had friends and family that tried their best to rally around me and get through to me. It was the first time in my life that I experienced primal fear for myself. He even manipulated me into fearing for my family and friends.

He raped my soul.
How did I finally find the courage to walk away? I received a phone call that someone very dear to me was not doing well, asking when I could come. I booked a flight, packed two suitcases and never looked back.

It was a drastic step, because it had to be. I remember that on my get away flight there was this boisterous group, having fun. One of the men stepped near my seat, he had a deeply resonating male voice and when he suddenly raised his voice and flung his arms in exaltation, I ducked in terror. My pulse racing, I thought to myself, this is what has become of you, how sad.

It was my financial ruin; I lost the business, almost lost my house and started over with zero funds.

Today, my life is peaceful. Oh, that is another thing - the glory of peace and quiet. I found a new life and after a few years a new and different kind of love with a new man. I am one of the lucky ones.