Once we started dating, it was not hard to realize that he drank more than most, but the love and attention he gave me in the beginning was as blinding as driving into the sun at sunset. Needless to say, I didn’t give it much thought. There were many, many moments that I should have left before I even got pregnant and there after. The day we got married, I stood there knowing this was a journey that would end in divorce. I didn't know when, but I knew it none the less. Not a very comforting thought for a girl who is about 10 weeks away from bringing another life into the world, but to be perfectly honest, I was holding on to a much bigger thought than being married to a man I wasn't quite sure about. It was the fear of being "that girl". The girl who had two different children, with two different men. Most people might say there are worse things, but this was 90's and society at that time had not become so forgiving to such taboos. It was still a very cruel place and had in fact already been so cruel to that point, the reality was I just didn't think I was strong enough to take it.
The birth of our first daughter really seemed to be the catalyst that set everything into motion. Not only was she premature, but she had a rare heart defect. It was not something that neither of us had a family history of and couldn't have expected. Nor was it something that became noticeable until the minute she was born and needed to breath. Every human being requires certain arteries for carrying the carbonated blood into the heart so it can be replaced with oxygenated blood and then carried out of the heart, to the rest of the body. My daughter was lacking these arteries for making that exchange, so she was circulating mainly carbonated blood and the little oxygenated blood she had was what she gained from inside me. For those who don't know, carbonated blood is like acid on the inside of your body and she was basically being dissolved from the inside out (for lack of a better phrase). It was eating away at organs, muscle tissue, and would eventually makes it way to her brain. Needless to say she was in a great deal of pain so they simply gave her a lot of morphine while trying to figure out what to do. After several hours of discussion and debate that appeared to be going no where, I informed the doctors to turn the machines off and let her go. No matter what anyone thought or wanted to believe, she was suffering and I couldn't take it anymore. She lived for exactly four hours and I never got to hold her until after she was gone. She never took one breath...Never let out one cry...She never even opened her eyes...but I loved her all the same.
The second she came into this world, it created this domino effect that eventually lead to her death and regardless of what anyone thinks or wants to believe, none of it changes certain facts. That she was my child, that I carried her, that I gave birth to her, that I was the one who made the decision to stop her suffering, that I was the one in the room when her heart beat for the last time which is the most deafening silence a person can imagine, and that I was the one who held her for hours after she had passed away because it was the only chance I would ever have to hold her. So no, as much as everyone wants to feel they are entitled to an opinion about her birth or death or that their memory is on the same level as mine or her fathers, that is simply not the case.
I think dealing with the loss of a child is a lot for any person to bear, however living with the knowledge that your decision was the cause another human being losing their life takes it to a whole other level. I also feel deep down he blamed me all the remaining years we were together. After our daughter passed away, ignoring what he was like was no longer an option, at least not for me anyway and his intense behavior left little room for any type of grieving. My ex-husband had few coping skills for dealing with anxiety, stress, and/or trauma...usually avoiding, alcohol, and/or anger. He was a binge drinker. Not often in the beginning, but much more frequent towards the end. I will spare you the disgusting, self-image shattering details of the marriage itself other than to say, it was a long, painful, ten year chapter in my life and our marriage was any nightmare you watch women live through on made for TV movies. There was a lot of crying, infidelity, pain, hurt, hits, slaps, injuries, bruises, broken possessions, broken hearts, and broken promises. My life has always been pretty open so most of the stories I have shared with those who wanted to know, but some I have and always will keep to myself because...well because some images just shouldn't be forced if into even the darkest corners of one's mind and these I'm afraid would leave a lasting, undeserved mark.
I have no doubt that somewhere, in the last few empty places of my mind and heart, not yet tainted with the stench of an alcohol soaked fog that was my world, I had convinced myself if I could keep it all together, give the world the impression of perfection, then maybe even I to could make myself believe this horror story didn't exist, and eventually might even go away. It did not. If you have never been in a relationship such as this, you CANNOT understand it and CANNOT judge it. I was always the person who said I would NEVER let a man hit me and yet, there I was. I will say this about my ex-husband...he worked, every day, every week. He had the ability to be the kindest, sweetest, most attentive man, but he also had in him a demonic evilness I could not contain or fight. This creature that reminded me so much of the "Kraken" in Greek mythology. A monster that would stay contained until absolutely necessary, but once it was out, not even the God's themselves could stop it. My world was literally like being married to two people. Twice I did try to leave, moved out and twice I came back. You see, people always tell women in these situations “you deserve better”, “you shouldn’t let someone hit you”, and to be honest, we know that. We know we should not be treated this way, but we have to have what I call a “come to Jesus moment” and until it happens, we will never leave permanently. Mine was having a shotgun put in my mouth and told if I was not going to stay with him, I was not going to stay on this planet. It was not about the gun as much as realizing I have hit a point in my life where someone else has total control over me. The ability to decide whether a person lives or die is about the greatest control a person can have and even worse, I had given it to him. I knew it was time to get my life back. I didn’t make him drink, I didn’t make him say the things he did, I didn’t make him put his hands on me, but I was making a choice for my kids every day I continued to stay and that was no longer acceptable anymore.
Another highly misinformed statement made by friends and family is “just leave”. Leaving is not that easy, especially when you literally have little money and fewer options. What I did have though, was no matter what happened at home, I continued going to school and the day I graduated with my Bachelors, unbeknownst to him, I started looking for a job. Then I was lucky enough to find a job. I fled one October day while he was at work. I had in tow my three kids, our clothes, very little furniture. The heaviest part was my forever broken heart and fractured soul. They were both holding in ten years of emotional scars from words said that you cannot imagine and anger so great I think Jesus himself would be a little fearful. Forever to be there along with the physical scars and memories of several cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a torn rotator cuff, numerous bruises, black eyes, busted lips. It was time to embrace my now single parent status.
Again I wish I could tell you that was the end of it and our next journey brought smooth sailing, but I can’t. In fact, in some ways it was worse. I could not get any lawyers to help me file for divorce without a $2000 retainer just to start it. That took about a year to get, but eventually my grandmother was able to loan me the money to get it started. Once I filed, he drug it out for another year. During those two years, he made sure to pay as many bills late or not at all as he could to ruin my credit because he knew I could not afford them. He also helped me become part of another group, the group that has been or is being stalked. For more than a year I put up with him calling non-stop, all hours of the day at night, at home and at my job. Him standing outside the windows of my house, specifically my bedroom, listening to phone calls. There were times I would be sitting on my porch and he would come walking out of the dark because he was hiding in my yard. He would drive by my house several times a night and/or just sit outside my house to see who came over. Many times he would try to follow me to see where I was going and there were even times I had to get people to intervene and block him. He broke into my house twice, went through my dresser, my cabinets, my closet. He broke into my car, broke all my CD’s, tore up papers, and basically trashed the car. Once he kicked in my door and kicked out the back window when two of my children were in the car and got glass all over them. I am sure many of you are thinking “call the cops”. I did. Once it took them two hours to show up (good thing I was not on the verge of death) and do nothing. Another time I was told there was nothing they could do to him because his name was on my car too so he could do whatever he wanted to it. It felt hopeless and lonely. It’s a constant lose, lose battle, but on April 6, 2006, I received my first step to becoming "Stacy" again. There was also another great monumental moment in those two years. He was served with divorce papers on 30th birthday. I simply sent him a text message that said, "you got my 20's, you can have 30's too!"
I tell people this story for many reasons, most importantly of which is to let women know there is an end. Up to two years after I left, I was still constantly second guessing myself… was it that bad, maybe he will change, maybe I can live with it. It was very hard, emotionally, financially, psychologically, physically. There were times I wasn’t sure how I was going to feed my kids. I even got into another relationship for about a year that was exactly like the one with my ex-husband, but time did pass and life did get easier. My teen baby graduated in June on a distinguished transcript, a 3.7 GPA, and is now in college. My preemie girl will be 14 this week. She is an excellent student and has the kindest soul. My preemie boy is 12. He loves to laugh, he loves to make others laugh, and he to loves to be loved. In 2007, I met a man who made all the wounds and scars a little easier to bear. A man who is much more than I deserve, but someone who I feel God specifically intended just for me. He is a man in every sense of the word…gentle, kind, loving, attentive, strong, and would never raise so much as an eyebrow at me and in 2010 we were married. If he had had his way, we would have been married much sooner, but I needed to make sure that I was as close to whole again as I could get because it was not fair to him to drag what would clearly have been more than baggage into another marriage. I also had to become okay again with the thought of being someone's wife. Seems easy enough for most, but after spending 10 years being "his wife", no longer having an identify of my own, then to work that hard to get it back, I just wasn't really ready to give it up I guess.
I also want women to understand that being in a domestic violence relationship does not IN ANY WAY mean your ceiling of achievement has been lowered. After I earned my Bachelors, I did go to graduate school and earned my first Master’s with a 3.9 GPA as well as several academic achievement awards. I am currently working on a second Master’s in which I currently have a 4.0 GPA. Some people may consider that bragging, but when only 1 out of 100 teen mothers ever earns a college degree and I have three (also have an Associates), soon to be four, I absolutely will brag.
My ex-husband is still fighting his own demons and we do not have much of a relationship. I would like to say that we can be civil and work towards what is best for the kids, but to say that we differ in what we feel is "best" for the kids would be an understatement. I would be lying if I said there is not a part of me that will always love the great side of him that I knew. I mean, he was the father of three of my children and I gave him an entire decade of my life. You can’t live that and walk away with no love. There is also a part of me that is and will always be angry with him. Angry for robbing my children of the father they deserved to have and still is, angry for taking away the life I worked so hard to build, and angry for choosing alcohol over his children and his wife. I hope and pray regularly he gets help and gets himself together. He is making choices that currently are and will have a lasting impact on his relationship with his children, but again, that is his cross to bear. I have put in my time.
We all know hindsight is 20/20 so while I can say there are certain choices I would have done differently, I can’t say I “regret” all of it because if I did, I wouldn’t have my wonderful children. I am not a perfect person and I know I made my share of contributions to that marriage, but I also know I was a good wife. A wife he took the kids to work with her every day. A wife who worked full time, even up until the day she had all the kids and went back two weeks later with each. A wife who did all the cooking, cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping, money management, and a great deal of yard work. A wife who did all this while going to school also. I have always been an insecure person with little to no self-esteem, and no self-confidence. Those qualities can be draining on a person and a relationship and I admit that. There is no question that living nightmares such as this and others that we may go through, will leave wounds as deep as trenches in your soul. Some that may never heal and anyone who tells you to “get over it” or “stop acting like a victim” I can promise you is not someone you will want in your life. This is not something you will walk away from as the same person you were, but you can be whole again.
We make plans and God laughs. I never planned to have chapters in my life story that included such horror and pain. I am hopeful that one day my life will actually be a book because that is one of my own personal goals. It is also part of the reason it has been so easy for me to keep my life as an open book. I have been told many times, judged many times, by many people, that I need to not be so open and share so freely. There is a great deal of pain, mistreatment, and actions that occurred even before I met my ex-husband that I have not shared them here, but have shared them with others. Some have said that not only is it too much for people to take, but I should choose my words more wisely because they fear others would judge me unfairly. This statement just makes me laugh. While I do have my share of life secrets, it doesn't change the fact that I am just a girl from a trailer park, who grew up not having a lot, in a home with it's fair share of chaos and anger, to parents who didn't always make the best choices and eventually divorced, only to become a teen mom myself, then marry a man who would become an abusive alcoholic, and then on to being a single mom of three. My life SCREAMS judgment. I have been judged since the day I entered any type of social arena and ever since. However, in addition to all that, I am also someone who has kept trying to further her education, is highly intelligent, works in the professional world, has raised extremely bright, intelligent, polite, respectful children. Unfortunately the nature of the beast demands we typically only "judge on the negative". Well to that I say, I didn't have any control over who my parents were, the type of people they were, their income, where I grew up, or the choices they made. I also didn't have any control over my daughter dying, my husband's drinking, or his choices. Your childhood has everything to do with where you come from, but it has nothing to do with where you are going and those were events, not who I am. The things I could control, I think I have done quite well with. While I do wish people would get to know me as a person and not me as my past, it doesn't usually happen which is really okay when you think about it. I mean, do you really want judgmental, egotistical, arrogant, holier than thou, "I am the center of the universe" type of people in your life?
My life is something that tends to shock people. It is filled with most of the ugliness that society wants to believe never happens in real life, to real people, and as long as they don’t believe, as long as they pretend it’s not there, they don’t have to be accountable for their denial. This brings me to my final reason for sharing. Domestic Violence is very real. It was very real for me as it is for so many others. This is article is part one of two and in the second part I will be providing information about what to look for, statistics, how to get out, etc. I wanted people to first understand just how real and raw it is as opposed to just throwing out some numbers and facts. Put a face to it, my face. Chances are you know someone who is, was, or could be soon in such a relationship. Those people have another face too, not just the one we see. I was lucky enough to make it out and thrive so if by sharing my life and my story, even one woman is able to find her inner strength and save herself, then as far as I am concerned, people can continue to be as shocked as they want because I am not going anywhere.
It could just be me, but I feel like almost every story out there of people coming from turmoil and tragedy has them ending up in great success, great fame, great fortune. To me, that creates this false sense within people that every person with these experiences are going to end up with some multimillion dollar deal. While I still have hope that Bradley and I will get to a place of being more comfortable , my story does not have such a monetarily glamorous ending. I am an average person, living an average life. There are still things, specifically financial, that we are trying to clean up, things from before and during my marriage, including things that taint amount to fraud committed in my name by others. Then in my divorce, I was naive and trusted others which cost me greatly. While I fail at something every day, I continue to grow, survive, and succeed every day. Do I have a big fancy house, no. Do have numerous zeros in my bank account, nope. Do I own several cars, go on shopping sprees, or go on tons of fabulous vacations, I do not. I have something much better. A story that has landed in a place with three healthy, happy kids, with a husband who makes me his world, with goals and dreams I am going to achieve, with a few, close, wonderful people who take me as me and nothing more. Most importantly, I have peace. I don’t cry every day. I am not afraid every day. I don’t worry every day. My story is far from over and I still have hurts that are healing, but I continue to work on the best version of me every day.
"Pain is not something you can avoid forever...it is something you have to go through...to get through"...Stacy Dennis
