I am not ashamed to admit that I am absolutely in love with the fall season. Every October, I rush to the stores to buy everything that comes in a pumpkin scent, and beg friends and loved ones to accompany me on hayrides and haunted house tours until I have packed every weekend full with fall activities. I spend hours brainstorming costume ideas on a budget, and wait anxiously for Halloween night to arrive.
However, the arrival of October is always a bittersweet time for me, because it signifies more than a haunted holiday with treats and pets dressed up in mini costumes. It serves as a recognition for a great evil in society, an occurrence that I wish I could say I cannot identify with.
October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month, and as someone who experienced an episode of physical abuse at the hand of an ex-partner, it serves as a reminder of the shame, internal struggle and pain I felt for so long, and the journey of recovery that took me years to begin.
As someone who has always been known as strong-willed and outspoken by her peers, friends and family, it comes as a surprise to others when I tell them about my experience with domestic violence. It is a cultural misconception that only weak individuals with low self-esteem fall victim to abuse. The truth is, anyone can become a victim.
The Relationship
During my freshman year of high school, I started dating *Chris, an acquaintance I had known for a few years. We were the same age and had similar friends, but we hadn’t gotten to know each other well until we started high school. Chris had a reputation for having a bad temper, and there were rumors that he had gotten into a few fights when he was in middle school. I ignored all of this, because he was funny, smart, and was genuinely interested in me, which was something I wasn’t used to.
One night, when we were talking on the phone, Chris told me about a song that he felt described who he truly was. The song was about someone’s rage and anger, which couldn’t be controlled and was dangerous to those around him. I told him that he was being over-dramatic, and that I wasn’t afraid of him, even if others were. The truth was, I was slightly afraid, and as more time went passed, I began to see the relevance of this occurrence.
As months went on, Chris became increasingly possessive and demanding. He would expect me to call him every night and stay up late with him to talk about his worsening moods and clinical depression. If I didn’t, he would get angry and would start a fight. He also didn’t like that I spent so much time with my male friends, and was trying to push me into going further physically in our relationship, even though I knew I wasn’t ready.
Eventually, Chris and I broke up for the first time, but it wasn’t long until we got back together. This cycle continued on and off for four years, even after I began to date other people and move onto new stages in my life. We started to find ourselves in the same classes and clubs, and our feelings for each other grew every time we got back together.
However, as our feelings grew, so did the toxicity of our relationship. Chris began to scream at me over the phone, talk about thoughts of suicide and blame me for the misery he felt. After a particularly brutal fight, we broke up for what I thought was for good, but it wasn’t long before we came back together.
Chris made me feel like no one else could love me the way he did, and often told me that because of my looks, attitude, and interests, I would be lucky to find someone else. Whenever he would fly off the handle, he would come back, apologizing for his mistakes, and begging for me to give him another chance. He made me promise not to tell anyone about our fights, and I never did.
The Abuse
It was during my senior year that things took a turn for the worse. Chris and I had gotten back together after a nine month break, and I was keeping it a secret from my friends and family so that they wouldn’t voice their disapproval.
Things seemed to be going well, and he had told me that while we were on a break, he had changed for the better. I believed him, until one afternoon when everything came crashing down.
He was very stressed about applying for college, and didn’t seem to be in a good mood on the day we were heading to a friend’s party. As I pulled over to the side of the street, I reached out to tickle him to try and cheer him up. He laughed for a few seconds, and I turned away to buckle my seatbelt. As I turned back around, his hand made contact with my face. It took me at least five minutes to register what had happened. I sat at the steering wheel, taking in the silence and feeling a burning sensation spread over my cheek and jaw. After a few more minutes, he suggested we go to a pharmacy to get a card for my friend and also some makeup for the red mark that was spreading on the right side of my face.
At the time, I didn’t cry, and I did exactly as he said. I felt ashamed, shocked, and was in complete disbelief. Later that night, on our way back from the party, he apologized for what happened, but said that I should have known better about his moods. I agreed with him, apologized, and let our night continue, even though I heard a voice in my head screaming at me to leave, call my parents, and get help.
Over the next few weeks, I shut myself off from everyone around me. I focused solely on Chris, even as his manipulative and emotionally abusive ways started to come back. I tried to speak quietly and keep him happy, because I was deeply afraid that he would hit me again, and that this time, I wouldn’t be able to hide the mark with a drugstore foundation.
By the end of the month, Chris was done with me, and broke up with me over a phone call. I vividly remember sitting in a car in a McDonald’s parking lot as he tore down whatever self-esteem and dignity I had left. I had just told my best friend about the situation, and he held my hand firmly as I listened to Chris’s reasoning for leaving me.
He claimed I was weak and fragile, and that he needed to move on to find someone “less broken” than he was. Through tears and anguish, I asked him what led him to hit me, why he felt as though he had the right to physically harm me. With a small chuckle, he responded “because you are the only one who has ever seen me weak and crying, but you are the weak one now,” and hung up the phone for the last time, leaving me sobbing and ashamed of what I let him put me through.
The Recovery
For the rest of my senior year, I didn’t tell anyone else what had happened to me. My best friend swore to keep it a secret, and although I told myself it didn’t affect me, I knew it did. I still had to see Chris every day in class and after school. Every time he walked past me or stood near me, I felt my body shrink and huddle, as if I was afraid that any movement might cause him to snap. Although the physical pain and marking healed within two weeks, the emotional and mental burden stayed with me, causing me to have nightmares for the first two months after the ordeal.
After graduating from high school, I decided to start fresh by putting what happened to me in the back of my mind. I kept my parents and friends in the dark about what had happened, and tried to continue on with my life as though I had never met Chris.
I thought I was doing fine and that it wasn’t affecting me, until the first semester of my sophomore year. I was in a communications class, and we were discussing Ray Rice. The footage of Rice beating his wife unconscious in an elevator had just been released by the media, and it was on everyone’s mind. One girl had started to say that if Janay (Rice’s wife) stayed with him after the scandal, she deserved what came to her, and it would be no one’s fault but her own. At that moment, the rage, shame, and outrage from what had happened to me two years earlier came to the surface, and I immediately stood and began to challenge her views. After what seemed like an eternity, I stopped myself from speaking, and realized that I was screaming, and tears were close to spilling over. The entire lecture hall was staring at me, and I quickly excused myself to the bathroom for the rest of the class.
After returning to my apartment, I started to face what I was feeling, and realized that I had never truly gotten over what Chris had put me through. I thought about the nightmares I still had on occasion, the unhealthy relationships I was finding myself in to that day, the shame I felt for not telling anyone what had happened, and the blame I put on myself for the abuse he put me through.
I drove home to my parent’s house that weekend, and told them everything that had happened over the four years that Chris and I were together, culminating in the episode of violence during my senior year.
My mom cried with me, and they both reassured me that it was not my fault, I could heal, and they would be with me every step of the way.
The Lesson
After I told my parents, I started going to therapy to talk about what I had experienced. I was able to move past the shame I felt, and realized that no matter what, no one should ever have put their hands on me.
Today, I am a successful senior excited to take on the world, and my current relationship is magical and completely healthy. My partner brings out the best in me, and would never harm me emotionally or physically.
Even though Chris blocked me on Facebook a few years ago, he takes the time one day a year to view my LinkedIn profile multiple times (which I receive a notification about).I used to fear what he meant by it, but now I realize that he is only looking induce a fearful reaction from me, which I refuse to give to him.
A year ago, I began to volunteer with a non-profit organization that works with victims of sexual and physical assault, and it has helped me make something good out of what happened.
In the end, I realized that I am a lucky woman with a wonderful support system. I was lucky in the sense that I was not financially dependent on Chris (unlike many other women who find themselves in an abusive relationship) and I was only physically harmed on one occasion.
However, it is important to note that any type of abuse, emotional or physical, short or long term, can have devastating effects on an individual’s mental and physical health. No one should ever feel responsible for their abuse, and in the end, some warning signs early on in a relationship can be a precursor to greater problems under the surface.
As October goes on, I urge everyone to take a look at their relationships and make sure that they are healthy. If you or someone you love is in trouble, reach out to a helpline or domestic violence shelter for assistance.
For those who are recovering from past abuse, I urge you to let yourself process the extent of the pain you are holding onto. Don’t try to push it to the deepest depths of your mind, because you deserve to heal and move onto greater things waiting for you.
*Names were changed due to the subject matter of this piece*