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There are so many valuable lessons my mother taught me over the years. She had the patience of a saint and was compassionate to no end. My mother was my greatest champion, my best friend and my fiercest protector. Being just like her was something I aspired to emulate for many years. She prided herself in teaching me right from wrong and all the other wonderful things a mother imprints into her child's precious psyche. The one thing she unknowingly passed down to me was the idea that it's okay for the man you love to physically abuse you.
As a child growing up, I witnessed on so many occasions my mother being physically abused by her steady boyfriend. My father had been out of our lives for years. So, this man was the only male figure I knew.
The episodes of physical abuse always centered around alcohol. It never failed. He would come home stumbling and blundering through the house late at night just looking for a reason to "start". We were always careful to be very quiet hoping our silence would keep him calm enough to just fall asleep. Sometimes this worked and sometimes it didn't.
Finally, my mother grew tired of the abuse and began to fight back. She would punch, kick, scratch and whatever else it took to defend herself. This was her way of declaring she wasn't going to be a victim anymore. Eventually, she threw the jerk out and ended the reign of terror he had inflicted on both our lives for far too many years.
Nevertheless, the psychological damage had been done.
When I met my husband I thought the gods had smiled down upon me. Surely a man this kind and good could only be a product of the greatest Mount Olympus had to offer.
Things were good at first. We laughed. We loved. We played. We connected. I was in utter shock the first time he hit me. I thought this can't be happening. I lived through it as a child. Am I going to have to endure the same nightmare as an adult?
They say hindsight is twenty - twenty. I can look back and say I should have left the first time it happened; or the second; or the third; or the fourth - I really lost count after a while. But I couldn't leave. This was all a part of being in a relationship, right? Every couple fought and made up. He wasn't actually trying to hurt me. He was just angry. Once he calmed down and I remembered to never upset him that way again things would be fine.
It wasn't until our children were born and he continued the abuse that I decided enough was enough. I listened to what my darling husband told me about hearing his father beat his mother in the middle of the night and how powerless he felt being unable to defend her.
Domestic violence really is a vicious cycle! The chilling stories he told me validated that fact without a doubt. It was during one of these nostalgic treks down memory lane that I decided the cycle had to be broken.
During our last fight (if you could call it that), he struck me while I was holding our youngest child. I regained my composure and told him these exact words "You lived in it. I lived in it. I will not allow my children to live in this type environment. If you ever hit me again, I'm leaving".
He grinned at me with amusement and a bit of confusion on his face and walked away.
For months things were good. Then on a cold night winter night a few years ago he decided to test my proclamation. And as promised I packed a gym bag full of our barest of necessities and left. I've never looked back.
People often wonder why women stay in abusive relationships. Sometimes women feel they can't make it on their own. Others have the delusional idea that he'll eventually stop.
My reason and the one I think is worst than any is the idea that this behavior is normal. Having watched my mother suffer through years of abuse convinced me that it
