(This is a continuation of the mention of domestic violence [DV] in the Heather Drama thread). Well, for anyone interested in hearing how DV can insidiuosly take root in an otherwise normal life, here are some anecdotes:
As for what happened to me, maybe someone can learn from it. Or have a good laugh. There were victories on the way out of the domestic violence, but tragedies too. One victory was that the jailer mocked the cops for arresting me, because I was obviously the victim, bleeding. Another victory was how the abuser later was royally humiliated during an interaction with a prosecutor. I also learned a lot about jail during my short stay there. I was allowed a seat belt on the rough ride to arraignment while male inmates were not afforded such luxury (very sorry to hear!) Also, luckily my employer never found out. Also, the arrest was the impetus which finally got me out of that bad relationship. I had been looking for my own place, but the timing of the arrest added luck & motivation, resulting in near-immediate housing, finally!
Those are the easy things to mention, almost fun, but I rarely think of those victories anymore. The thoughts that stay with me the longest are about how a pet suffered traumatic injuries/death due me making a mistake in the chaos, compulsivity, & superficiality in the household. It died after three days in veterinary care, care which seemed sub-standard, really. I never live down the trauma & difficult death the pet went through (Suggestions? Please PM), but to my credit a little, I had warned its owner time & time again, that I did not want us to move in next to guard dogs, that I knew judgment & doors are hard to control in large homes with multiple people, so the pets could get hurt. But the abuser was enthusiastic as well as adamant about relocating to a home which happened to have guard dogs next door. She thought the guard dogs indicated the neighbors were drug dealers (which they were), & she wanted to get pot from them. I suppose she ended up as one of their clients, but I did not ask. After the pet died, I won arbitration of a civil claim against the home of the drug dealers, which I'd been trying to prosecute anyway, & also they moved away after having been there 11 years. But those are just after-the-fact details. Nothing resurrects the pet.
Maybe, though, maybe I prevented other animals or children from getting hurt at that location.
The physical abuse occured long before the pet died. The electric nerve damage from my deep domestic violence bruises took many years to heal, & a broken bone with shooting pains took about 8 years to regain full function, but it could have been much worse.
Oddly, with the support of the abuser's family, I got all my money back very quickly. I had had no idea she was stealing from me because we both were making exceptionally good money. But one day right before payday, I called the bank to check my balance because I knew I had spent a lot & should start checking my balance as a safeguard. No problem, right? Well, when I checked my balance on the automated phone system, I was overdrawn by $900, which did not make any sense at all. I should have had over $100 in the account. It was ironic she had financially abused me, because time after time, she listened to me making phone calls to the bank, getting upset because my statements were not coming. I thought they just could not seem to get our new address right, but actually they were mailing statements every month, which she covertly hid from me to prevent me from discovering that all the checks she wrote me recently for rent were bad checks. Of course I had trusted her because she had a good payment history with me, she was well employed, & we were a family. She had no unexplained puchases. I guess she spent the money on marijuana. Maybe her income couldn't afford it as well as I had thought. Anyhow, this was a long time ago.
What surprises me is the sudden number of female members here who spoke up so fast on the topic, frightening really.
Thanks for your sympathy, Uncle! At the time, I didn't get any symoathy at all. As a matter of fact, I ended up in jail after the abuser set me up for arrest! My own father looked down on me for having been arrested. DV often escalates to crisis when the victim starts to separate from the abuser. Our legal crisis happened the day I arranged separate bedrooms for us. Unbeknownst to me, she was very threatened by my decision to have my own bedroom. She did not say so, but was fuming, & so she became abusive again. After so many times of abuse, I snapped this time, after she bruised me & made me bleed, & traumatized me for hours. I got hooked & for once, went into the offensive.
I didn't even actually scratch or bruise her, as she was huge, compared to me, but she knew I had lost control & took advantage of my off-balance mood to set me up. She called 911 & claimed I was abusing her. She had also done something like that once before, but not quite as direct. When the police interviewed me, they ended up arresting me instead of her! She was 6'2" , 220lbs, & had out-of-state records for DV as well as assault on police officers. But out-of-state records were not checked
On the day I was wrongfully arrested, I guess she must have told them a good story, or they just wanted to take the weakest person because it would be easier. Admittedly, I was not experienced at speaking up for myself, but I showed the officers I was bleeding. They didn't care. They arrested me, even though I was in my skivvies. (Alway get dressed if you are going to be arrested, & put needed stuff like phone numbers in your pockets). They wouldn't even allow me to take my purse, phone, phone book, or real clothes.
The officers did say something which I wish I had understood better at the time. They asked if there was anywhere else I could go for the night. Well, there wasn't, since I had no family in the area, & was isolated with the abuser. So they took me in. I wish they had communicated more plainly - like actually tell me that they wanted to separate me & the abuser for the night, & that if I had nowhere to go, they would arrest me just to separate us. But they did not spell it out for me at all. Of course I had nowhere to go! Anyhow, looking back I realize now that a shelter or motel would have been a great option, compared to an arrest an jail! I could easily have afforded it or made arrangements. Even though she financially abused me, the bank seemed to keep letting transactions go through, plus I had credit, a good job, & even if worse come to worse, I certainly qualified for an immediate payday loan. It was the middle of the day; lenders were open. So, at best I could have had a peaceful night in a hotel with a hot bath & morning coffee, while at worst I could have found a shelter for the night or slept in my car near the police station. If there are any officers reading this, please, PLEASE spell things out for people who are adrenalized & inexperienced, with no criminal record. When I replied I had nowhere else to go, I never in my wildest dreams would have imagined they were even considering arrest. After all, I was bleeding, while she was uninjured!
Nonetheless, "Do you have somewhere to go?" was police code for "GTFO or else". Okay. If you are an officer, you might want to stop reading because I'm going to be disparaging right now.
Am I the only one that thinks their subtlety was retarded? Fuck-ass dumbshit obese surburbia co*s. The only good crisis response is in urban areas, areas where officers' procedures matter because it is war on the streets every day. You gotta wonder what kind of academy graduate takes a job on Doughnut Lane. Some sort of career hazard mitigation rotation/reciprocity tradition ought to be considered. Why should one cop be waddling down Doughnut Lane every day when other cops are dodging bullets all the time? Some officers might be willing to occassionally swap out. And learn something. The best cops I've seen are transit cops. They do not become complacent on work time, ever. Anyhow. Jesus, please protect us all.
So, later, when I was released from jail, in my skivvies, my choices were to walk home looking like a prostitute, which in & of itself could have resulted in another interaction with police (at a bad time, emotionally, too), or to call the abuser for a ride. Of course, I called the abuser for a ride. The justice system rigged my domestic violence arrest in such a way that the abuser & victim had no choice but to interact personally at length, isolated together in a moving vehicle with no escort after I was released. That is a perversion of justice. Every cell in my body wanted to avoid her & to walk the other way. This was a woman who had broken one of my bones & put me in ER another time. And inflicted really bad soft tissue damage. But, I just did not have the confidence to walk the three miles back home to get my car, wearing such little clothing. So I rode with her.
Looking back, I wish I had called the Red Cross or a church to ask for clothing or a ride, because a person simply must not get back in a car with an abuser. Ever, if possible. I would imagine depending on the abuser for a ride that day has to rank among my top 20 most humbling experiences, one that I disapprove of.
My pets & I never stayed another night there. We camped in a pick-up truck & one of those nice, large wire/linoleum cat cages in a campground until I found an apartment. I had already been looking, but had to look more. I got really lucky because at one place, a terrible applicant had left the landlord a horrible poor-me note for application. Seeing how pitiful, drama-ridden, & self-entitled the first applicant's note sounded, I mustered it up to leave a well-written, solid note about my employment & references. I guess I got accepted because of the juxtaposition in applications. Very fortunate luck. Without that luck of "looking better", who knows how long the landlord would have taken to get back to me. So, I was able to get in quickly.
In general, it seems like abusers target victims with no support networks. Prior to the abuse, I had moved away from a very dysfunctional family. I had "graduated" from counseling & had ran a support group, after being a regular member for years. All my support groups talked about setting boundaries, but abusers don't respect boundaries so a young woman needs to be prepared to go "beyond boundaries" into recognizing signs of abuse & forbidding relating afterward. In order to avoid drama, sometimes it's necessary to be a little "fake" or superficial, as well as secretive & two-faced, something a good woman usually avoids. That's why they say all is fair in love & war. A person's value system is turned upside down to escape abuse safely, just as most enlistees' value systems are turned on their head during deployment combat. Suddenly all the good values you were raised with become liabilities, & the sins you were told to not do become necessities. Later, after the abuse, I finally got "beyond boundary bumbling" & learned that trust equals communication-heard-and-respected. I learned that no matter how needy or alone in the world a person is, you must keep the assholes out & choose partners wisely, because for every asshole that gets in, time & rapport which otherwise could have gone to a nice person, are used up in vain. I hope these memories don't trigger any inner turmoil in anyone especially suburban cops! I just think passing on lessons that help me might help someone else.
A good lesson to remember is that abusers test their prey very subtley, just barely crossing social mores a little bit, like grabbing your arm just a little too strongly, holding your hand captive just a little too long, taking you out for dinner but only buying salad & drinks, having you over but the place is a pigsty, skipping steps (like groping before normal steps like hand holding & arms around), asking you to do something slightly unlawful like help them pilfer restaurant flatware from the restaurant table, offering you nice things they got for free but when you get there you can tell they hoarded all the good stuff leaving only garbage for you, keeping you a long time socially but not providing food or drink for over four hours, etc...
See, they know that if a woman accommodates these slightly unreasonable quirks, then she is an easy target. And true to this lesson, the abuser I described actually had indeed told me early on that her parents did not respect her & that she had previously fought with police. I should have identified those disclosures as big warnings.
However, I remained very flexible for reasons to do with my car being suddenly stolen at a really bad time for career commuting. I bought a replacement car, but it could not pass emissions due to the manufacturer not designing it to have a catalytic converter. Emissions told me I could not drive it, or that is what I understood. I begged them for mercy, even cried tears. The staff was nice to me, but could not back down on their policy. Well, this woman, this future abuser, & I, had been dating. She lived just a few miles away in a jurisdiction which did not have emissions control! I felt I was over the barrel. If I continued to live in my city, it would be two transfers through bad parts of town to bus to work. I knew, because I had done it. With my new car being prohibited in that city, I moved in with her despite the warning signs she gave. I got my car back not too long after, but it had had embarrassing body damage for a long time, a well as its own emissions problem, & I much preferred the replacement car even though it failed emissions.
She seemed very in love with me & I sensed a great relationship would grow. We moved in together, I got to drive my nice looking replacement car, & everything seemed fine at first. I rationalized that the fight she said she had with police on the other side of the country a long time ago sounded very complicated & must have been a weird anomaly in her life. I wasn't afraid of her at all. She was larger, but I am resourceful, & strong too. So, we began. And slowly, so did the abuse.
These examples show how DV can take root. Looking back, of course I would do a lot of things differently. I acknowledge that she had mania in her eyes, but back then I just figured such a look was infatuation. I hoped it was. Schools could do better to teach children how to recognize mania on a face - That should be part of stranger-danger & dirty-uncle-danger talks. A manic will stare, their pupils will be huge & their emotion will look much higher than the situation deserves. We have all sees looks/facial expressions that are usually reserved for life' Hallmark moments (graduations, illness recoveries, looking at infants, parents' pride, special anniversaries, new homes/purchases, wedding nights, etc...). Well, untreated manic people wear those expressions in low-key situations, so that is one sign to watch out for. Manic-depressives need lovers too, but it is wise to know what you are in for, from the start.
This example of domestic violence abuse also demonstrates how young women who "take a geographic" from abusive families of origin can end up back in the cycle of abuse. It can be a hard call when young, to stay near an abusive family of origin, or to try to start over somewhere else. The real starting over is about relating better. It can be easier to learn new relating techniques while being a distance away from bad family, at a time in young adulthood when a woman longs to cut the cord of abuse. But it is also important to have family or close ones available nearby, so as to be insulated from potential abusers, & so as to have a fulfilling life, not a life of emotional vacuum, which could suck in a predator. New relationships & support systems take time to round out, so the transitional years are a balance of moderation between the devil-you-don't-know & the devil-you-do.
