My History of Domestic Abuse

I spent five long years with a man who physically and emotionally abused me. To this day, I cannot fathom the reasons I stayed with him as long as I did. I could not tell you then, and I cannot tell you now. All I know is that I felt that I needed him in order to survive. I was very wrong to feel this way, but no one could get this through my head. I just would not listen. I realize now how much this abuse negatively affected not only me, but other members of my family as well.

I was a single mother of a fifteen-year-old daughter, who was struggling to survive on a very small paycheck. I had also just come out of a long and difficult relationship. When I met this man, (we will call him Carlos), I was instantly attracted to him, primarily because he was Mexican and I had always imagined that a relationship with someone from a different culture would be exotic and exciting. The very thought of it thrilled me. In this case, I could not have been more mistaken.

Carlos was very handsome and charming. Whenever he looked at me, his face would light up as though I was the only woman in the world for him. He treated me with respect and made me feel special. I was ecstatic when he finally asked me for a date. He wanted to take me dancing, but I secretly preferred a quite evening alone with him.

Our first date was on a Friday evening. Carlos was a perfect gentleman. He bought me flowers, and opened doors for me and I fell instantly in love with him. The one thing I remember from that first date that should have sent me running for the hills was when he took me to meet his house mates. There was a lot of drinking going on, and his friends were quite intoxicated when we arrived. He told me that he did not want me to talk to any of them or look at any of them because he did not want them to think I was a whore. He simply wanted me to meet them and then we would leave. I thought it was a very strange comment for him to make, and it gave me an uneasy feeling, but I shrugged it off and tried to forget about it, and continued on with our date. Looking back now, I wish I had paid heed to that uneasy feeling. It was a definite red flag.

It was not long after that first date that Carlos asked me and my daughter to move in with him. I was overjoyed at the thought of living with him and even entertained thoughts of marrying him right away. My daughter, however, did not warm up to him the way I did. She told me on several occasions that she had a bad feeling about him. I have come to learn that my daughter has a sort of sixth sense about these things. She has always been an excellent judge of character; obviously a quality that I do not possess. At that time, though, I was just so in love that I could not see what she was trying to tell me. I simply thought she resented the fact that someone else was in the picture and that she was harboring feelings of jealousy. This was just one of the many things I was wrong about concerning Carlos.

We had lived together only about three months when he hit me for the first time. It was on a weekend and we had been drinking. Things were going very well for a while, and then his demeanor suddenly changed. We began arguing and the next thing I remember was waking up on the floor. I never even saw it coming. He had struck me in the left side of the head and knocked me out cold. When I came to, my daughter was standing over me screaming at him. After I had a chance to somewhat recover from the blow, Carlos began to cry and begged my forgiveness. He said he never meant to hurt me and that he would never put his hands on me again. However, this was the first of many blows I would receive from Carlos.

I will not relate each and every time Carlos struck me. There are just too many incidents to list; so many that I cannot even remember all of them. However, there is a significant incident I would like to tell about here because I think it is important to point out just how dangerous an abusive man can be. I am one of the lucky ones who survived to tell about her experience, and for that I am truly thankful.

In February 2002, Carlos and I were visiting friends in a neighboring town. As the night progressed, Carlos proceeded to get very intoxicated and passed out on the sofa. When he awoke, he exchanged a few words in Spanish with one of his friends. To this day, I do not know what was said in that exchange. Suddenly, he flew into a rage and began to pummel his friend. When I ran over to break it up, he then turned on me. I looked into his eyes and what I saw was terrifying. It was as though I was face to face with a monster. He began to beat me until I fell to the floor. He then commenced to kicking and stomping me all over my body. I was screaming and begging him to stop. This continued for what seemed like eternity until he finally stopped and ran out the door. I heard the car start up and drive away. The noise had awakened neighbors, who called the police. When the police arrived and saw both of my eyes swelled shut, they contacted the police in the town where we lived and they went to our residence where he was sitting in his car and arrested him.

The following day, for reasons I cannot even understand myself, I sent someone to bail him out of jail. When he arrived home, he, of course, cried and begged me to forgive him, and I did. He even took me to the hospital, as one of my eyes was very badly injured. I told the doctors exactly what happened, and that he had been arrested. I failed to mention, though, that the culprit had been bailed out and was now sitting in the waiting room. After this incident, I was not able to return to my job as a restaurant server for two weeks, and even then I still had blood in my eye.

Carlos was sentenced to eleven months and twenty-nine days probation, and eight weeks of anger management classes, in which I attended with him. I thought my days of abuse had finally ended, because Carlos did not lay a hand on me again for two years. But then steadily his drinking increased, and he was beginning to stay away from home more and more. I suspected him of cheating for a very long time, but I could never prove it. Then, one Monday morning, when he was supposed to be working, my daughter caught him in bed with the mother of one of her friends. I was devastated and we separated for a few months. But it was not long until he turned on that charm and convinced me we should be together again.

In the meantime, I had been diagnosed with fibromyalgia and a ruptured disk in my back. I am sure the ruptured disk stems from the beating I got that night in February 2002. Things went well for a while, but then I began to get sick very often and would spend weeks in the bed, suffering from pain and depression. He again began spending more and more time away from home until he was practically never there. I never knew where he was or who he was with. I suspected he was having an affair with a certain woman, but was too ill to follow him around to find out.

My feelings for Carlos had gradually changed over the years and by this time, I did not feel any love whatsoever for him and I decided it was time to get out. My daughter was now grown and had moved out of the house. Now all I had to worry about was me, so I packed what belongings I needed and left him a note. I have never looked back.

A week after I left, I received a phone call from a friend. I was informed that Carlos had indeed been seeing the woman I suspected, and her husband had caught them in bed together. A fight ensued, and Carlos shot the husband three times, once in the head, and twice in the chest. Fortunately, the man survived. Carlos left town that evening, and no one has heard from him since. I suspect he has gone back to Mexico.

I never knew Carlos had a gun. It turns out he bought it a few weeks before I left. I have often wondered if he bought that gun for me. Was he planning to kill me? Did I get out just in time? I do not know the answers to those questions, but I am so thankful I did not stick around long enough to find out. I now see how dangerous he really is. I never dreamed he had it in him to actually try to kill someone. I was so blind. I sincerely hope and pray that one day he is found and stands to face the attempted murder charges that have been filed against him. Carlos needs to be stopped, before he really does kill someone.

Having lived through this experience, I feel I am qualified to give advice to those women who are in a domestic abuse situation. My advice is this: please get out while the getting is good. I know it is not easy to do, especially if you have children. Please do not wait too long or your children may become motherless. There are women's shelters and lots of online help for victims of domestic abuse. All you have to do is seek it out. This is a critical issue. If you are being beaten, your life is in danger. How far will you let it go?

If you are a victim of domestic violence, please contact the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence
or call the National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or 1-800-787-3224 (TTY)