I tried to leave the Kid’s dad half a dozen times before it finally worked. 6 times in 3 years. The rest of this is going to be triggering, sorry folks.

I’ve had lots of people since then treat me like I am somehow better than all the other women who get stuck in domestic violence situations. I’m not any stronger or smarter, I was just more lucky. Period.

First, you have to understand how difficult leaving is. The first time I broke up with him (long before the Kid was conceived) he took to sleep deprivation and rape to get his way. It was late, he had no car, there were no buses and the only other place he could stay was with his parents an hour away. Could he just stay and he’d leave first thing in the morning? Fine. And then the demands for sex started, not hard at first, just “Baby one more time, please” for hours and hours and hours. I would try to sleep and his hands would start creeping over me. Just before the sun came up I gave in, I laid there like a dead fish while pushed inside me. That didn’t stop him from getting off, but once he finished he was sooooooo hurt that I would do that to him. I “made him feel like a rapist”. I was all of 18 and didn’t know that what he did was rape. I took him back out of guilt and shame and god only knows what else.

Then there was the isolating. If he couldn’t get rid of my friends, he got them on his side. He made friends with my bosses and when I threw him out (for spending the money for groceries and diapers on drugs) it was my boss’ house that he stayed at. Imagine getting calls from your BOSS discussing how horrible you are to your boyfriend. Imagine having your boss calling to discuss your lack of enthusiasm in the bedroom for a guy who recently declared “I like fucking you better when it hurts you”. If I didn’t let him come home, I’d be both a single parent and out of a job.

It finally stuck when the asswipe got pissed off enough to send me flying across a room full of friends and family when I wouldn’t let him take the Kid to Hempfest (he had a problem with driving while high and I wasn’t going to let him put the Kid in the car). That was luck, pure and simple. Otherwise those friends and family members (and bosses) would never have believed the shit I had been through. Seeing that finally got some people on my side. They finally believed that I wasn’t just being a tight-ass because he smoked some pot or did a little crystal, but that he would hurt me if I got in his way about doing either.

After that, I got attacked in my parking lot. I had owned 4 cars up to this point, but he never let me get my license. I was trapped in a suburb with a one year old while he took the car(s) that my mom had helped me buy and disappeared for hours. On the day I had finally scheduled to go get my my driver’s license, he showed up out of nowhere. I was outside, watching the kid play while smoking a cigarette (I know- I don’t need grief for smoking) when I saw his car drive up. I grabbed the kid and swung him up on my hip. I don’t know how but he got me around the throat and the kid and I were being dragged to his car. I put the cigarette out on his neck. I remember, vividly, thinking “If I had my other hand free I could fight but I can’t put the baby down in parking lot”. I just knew that the minute I let go of the Kid a car would screech out of nowhere and run him over. Finally someone held out their arms and I let them take the Kid. And I fought. And I got free. And he tore out of the parking lot just as the police sirens started to blare. (Super sucky sidenote- the police did not arrest him when they caught him, and because he had the visible mark they could have arrested me). Afterwards I went and got my driver’s license and then a No Contact Order.

What followed was months of court appearances where he would harass me in the waiting room until I had to ask the guards to protect me. I got the judge to order drug tests and supervised visits if he wanted to see the the Kid. He got a new job as a water delivery guy and used to call me from his deliveries, sometimes as often as 30 times a day. Then there was the trying to climb in my bedroom window at night. There were more than 50 violations of the protection order, and he got probation on them. After almost a year of stalking and harassment, his mom called to tell me that he wanted to see the Kid. Somehow she knew about the Kid’s daycare, which she shouldn’t have known anything about. I panicked and within a week we were in a whole different state. For years I lived without putting anything in my name so that he couldn’t track me. It’s only been a few years since I lost the constant fear pit in my belly, though the last few months have brought it back.

I got lucky. I got a judge who wasn’t the best about domestic violence but hated drug addicts with a passion, so visits were supervised. I got a second judge for the long term protection order who heard about the parking lot incident and realized the big warning signs for abusers who are about to kill (choking and public acts of violence are two biggies) were there. I had friends in other states who could take us in. And I only had one kid, and he was too little to have a big connection with his dad. He didn’t even notice when he was gone. If the kid had been older, if there had been 2 or 3 kids, if the judges hadn’t seen my side, if I was black or had drug issues of my own or spoke without sounding educated and middle class, things could have been much worse.

I got lucky. The stars aligned so that I could get out. That’s all. Had the someone not been there to take the Kid out of my hands, I’d be dead. Had any number of things been different, I’d be dead. It took a lot longer than I would have liked to get out, and since I am back to dealing with him now, I wonder if anyone ever really gets out, but it was luck.

And to anyone who is stuck in that same situation right now, I already know you are strong, and I know you know that you will leave when you can. And I wish you the best of luck, really truly.