08/02/2024
It's been exactly 7 years, and the healing has only begun. Have you ever watched the news or heard one of those horrible stories about some stranger who killed their whole family and then killed themself? I have, I watched in horror, asking myself, “What kind of person does that?” I was thankful that I had a loving husband who would never do that to our family. In August 2017, the person I thought was my loving husband turned out to be a monster. We came dangerously close to being one of those families killed at the hands of the person we trusted the most. After telling the kids he was going to the afterlife, Justin fired a gun into the floor of our bedroom with our 5-year-old daughter and 8-year-old son in the room. I was on the floor below, and the bullet came within inches of my head. Thankfully, we all survived that horrible day. While there weren’t physical casualties, there was indeed death. My children’s innocence and our stability, safety, and security died that day. Our “Rock,” who we thought loved us enough to die for us, nearly killed us. Our image of our loving husband/father was forever shattered. Our entire world, as we knew it, changed, never to return. It would take exactly four more years to the date of this incident for my husband’s self-destruction to catch up with him, leading to his physical death. My children and I would not stick around to be dragged down with him. In August 2021, NY Family Court forced the kids to have in-person visits with their abuser. The last time they saw their father, he exposed them to COVID-19 before a vaccine was available for children. Two weeks later, Justin was on a ventilator, and another 2 weeks after that, he died of COVID-19. Going back to the first question I asked when I heard about the other families that died, “What kind of a person does this to his own family?” After all that I went through, I still didn’t have an answer. I only had more questions. Could we ever fully trust anyone again? Will we ever feel safe in our home? How did I get myself into this mess? How am I going to get myself out of it? Thoughts like these filled my head at night or in brief rest moments while frantically rebuilding my life that had just come crashing down around me. I was told to stop living in the past. I knew I couldn’t move on until I had answers. I couldn’t be certain about our future either. I had to understand why he did this to us so I could prevent it from happening again. I spent the next five years researching personality disorders and trying to understand the mindset of people who abused and killed their families. I watched YouTube videos and listened to podcasts on my subway rides to work. I read books at night and scoured the internet for articles and blog posts. I watched true crime documentaries and movies on the subject. The more information I consumed, the more questions I had. It wasn't until I listened to the stories of other survivors that I was able to crack the code. While each story had completely different scenarios, they all fit a pattern. Armed with my years of research on abusive personalities, I was able to identify the warning signs and abuse tactics commonly used in each of the stories as the incidents increased in frequency and severity. Then I started writing. I started with the day I met my husband and named every abuse tactic he used on me and every warning sign he flashed. Looking at it on paper, it was all so clear! The incidents started with name-calling and jokes at my expense and gradually escalated in frequency and severity over the course of 20 years, leading to the highly lethal situations my children and I experienced. Naming the abuse became a powerful tool in my healing. While deeply disturbing, it all finally made sense. I could finally move on. I had no intentions of publishing. Telling my story had risks. What will my family think? What will his family think? Would employers not hire me if a quick Google search showed them I was a “battered wife?” Would clients not work with me if they thought I was somehow “damaged goods?” Will telling my story somehow affect how my children are perceived? Will other predators use this highly sensitive information against me? I survived to tell the story the other families did not live to share. Remaining ashamed and keeping quiet about it just because I was worried about how others would react to my truth certainly wasn’t good for my own mental health. My silence is a disservice to the millions of victims suffering who, like me, have no idea how they got into the violent situation they are in and have no idea how they are going to get out. Knowledge is power! Knowing the signs early on and confidently trusting your gut is the only way to prevent yourself from falling victim to the predatory nature of an abusive personality. It is much easier to leave a toxic situation if the signs are recognized early before it gets too complicated. As survivors, our words spread awareness and empower victims to heal and even change laws! Our stories are our only defense against the deadly violence that is spreading rapidly in the war on intimate partner abuse. Just like the Rifleman's Creed: This is my story. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
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