My Story

My encounter with domestic violence was nothing compared to the character, Abigail Wilkinson, in On the Edge but it was still traumatic and life changing.  I was 17 1/2 years old when I met my first husband.  To me, he was my high school sweetheart.  We were married just shortly after my 18th birthday and it wasn't long before I was in the hospital receiving head CT's and MRI's and several stitches in my head to close a gash that was inflicted by a man that was supposed to love me unconditionally for the rest of my life.  

My ex husband and I were destined together because he was a wonderful friend of my ex boyfriend.  When my boyfriend and I didn't work out, his friend was there to pick up the pieces of my broken heart and show me what love truly was.  He was always there when I needed to talk and took me out on dates and showed me the love that I desired.  So, it goes without mentioning that I didnt see the psychological abuse that he was inflicting on me. Looking back, I can see the situations where he was building me up and tearing me down.  He would tell me I was beautiful and that he was lucky to have me.  However, when he would become angry, he would quit talking to me and act as if he could have any other woman he wanted.  For a girl with low self-esteem (I thought I was fat and ugly) this type of behavior can lead to her become desperate to keep her man.  I would do things that I wasn't supposed to (see him when I was supposed to be working or talk on the phone after curfew) just to keep him from leaving me.  

After several months of this, I turned 18 years old.  At 18, that's when he started grappling with physical abuse.  Nothing too severe at first.  He punched a hole in the wall next to my head or he would push me or slap me.  I just assumed this was love and how love was supposed to feel.  After some time elapsed, he started punching me in my legs and thighs and leaving bruises where I could cover them.  The sad part was that I was a criminal justice major and my instructors were all police officers or former police officers.  To add more insult to injury, my best family friend was a police officer and I could have gone to him, his wife or his children seeking help and would have received it but I loved this man and didn't think I could do any better than him.

On October 31, 2002, I married my abuser in a courthouse ceremony in Idaho state.  I was barely 18 years old and he was barely 20 years old.  I thought he loved me but I found out that the only reason he married me was because a wife can't testify against a husband and I knew about a felony he committed and I was the lose link that needed tightening.  (I didn't discover this until I was halfway through my divorce from him.)  

Our marriage was not a marriage by any means.  He was an utter ass to me and I stood around and took it.  I dealt with the abuse because I didn't believe in divorce.  January 12, 2003 marked 1 full year that he and I had been together.  The night before, he went out with a friend and was doing drugs and having multiple affairs.  It was around 2 o'clock in the afternoon on the 12th when I confronted him and told him that I was leaving.  I couldn't do this anymore and I wanted my old life back (yes, I was over all of it and I really was leaving).  He got angry and smashed my VCR to bits (yes, this was a time when VCR's were in and DVD players were just becoming popular).  He walked out of the bedroom and I was seeing red.  I grabbed his DVD player and threw it against the wall (bad move on my part!)  He comes barreling in through the bedroom door with a drinking glass in his hand.  He looked at what I did (the DVD player still worked.  In fact, it just quit working last year (2013).  He said something to me but I can't remember what it was.  I just remember putting my hands over my face and my thumbs over my temples and bracing for the worst.  The next thing I felt was a stinging sensation on the left side of my head and then it went numb.  I felt liquid warmth running over my hands and remember thinking to myself, "I'm bleeding and I need to find help."  

His step-father was outside working on a car and I went running down the hallway trying to get to him.  The front door was open and I was screaming "Call 911.  I'm bleeding!"  His step-father got in the car and drove away.  All I could do was continue to scream for help praying a neighbor would hear me. 

He caught up to me and grabbed me by the back of my hair and drug me to the bathroom.  He closed and locked the door and filled up the bath tub with water.  I feared that he was going drown me but he surprised me.  He grabbed my head and forced me in the water but he was trying to wash the blood out.  Yes, he was holding my face under water and I was struggling but he never left me under for more than a few seconds.  

He took me back in the room and proceeded to yell at me and tell me that this was all my fault.  I piss him off and he can't control himself because I won't conform to the wife he wants me to be.  I'm looking at the window as he's yelling at me and see 2 cop cars show up.  I point this out to him and he bolts for the front door and locks it.  He fights with the officers refusing to let them in.  I'm praying that they will make entry and not leave me behind.  Praise God, my prayers were answered.  They threatened to break in to get to me if he didn't let them in.  He lets them in and tells me to change clothes (my clothes were covered in blood).  I only changed my shirt.  There was no covering up the blood on my pants or the blood still seeping out of the wound in my head.

They knew what happened but I told them anyways and my husband was arrested for domestic violence.  My step-mom came and picked me up and took me to the hospital.  I'm unsure how many stitches I had, but I had to have stitches to stop the bleeding and I met with victim services and my grandparents took me home where I belonged. 

My divorce was final on September 24, 2004 (took me a long time to get him served as he was in and out of prison).  I was 20 years old and divorced.  On November 5, 2004 I met a man that would be my husband and the father of my children.  He showed me what it's like to truly be loved and respected and my poor husband has had to deal with the aftermath of the psychological and physical abuse done to me, but together, we have overcome that part of my life and are now happy and living life the way it should be.