"He told me that if I took his kids again that he would kill me. He has told me over and over again during our marriage about the people that he has killed and gotten away with itI believed him"
My name is KM and I have 4 children by my husband. We have 2 sons and 2 daughters . I am a domestic violence survivor. This is my story. I hadn’t lived with him since 2006 and he asked if I would give him another chance and in 2013, I let him move in. My husband and I went over to a friend’s house Summer of 2014. We watched fireworks, ate good food, and had a few drinks. My friend and her boyfriend got into a nasty argument and we left. My husband kept saying how I could never talk to him that way and that the only reason I haven’t been beaten up yet is because he won’t give his sisters the go ahead to jump me like they want to. The more I said I haven’t done anything wrong, the madder he got. He kept talking about how he wouldn’t be disrespected like that by me and how he would handle me if I talked to him like that over and over again. He kept me in the car yelling like that for almost an hour. I was so scared finally I just had to get out and he got even madder because he said I turned my back on him.
I went in the house and downstairs to my bedroom. I went into the bathroom to get ready for bed and he followed me in there. He trapped me at the sink by putting his hand on the wall behind me and behind me on the sink where I was standing. He continued to yell at me and talk about what he wasn’t going to allow from me. At this point, I just didn’t say anything because he just kept getting angrier and angrier. I have a back injury and I am on disability. I had to beg him to let me go to bed because I was hurting so bad from being forced to stand for so long.
He was all in my face, but he finally let me go to bed. It didn’t stop there. He continued to talk and curse. He kept pacing and walking to the closet that had his gun and knives. I was so scared at this point that I got out of bed and tried to run upstairs. He grabbed me by my hair and pulled me back down and on the floor. I started to scream because he was hurting me and our kids were upstairs and I wanted them to get help.
He told me that if I didn’t shut up that he would hurt them if they came down and saw what he was doing to me. He picked me up off the floor and threw me up against the wall and broke my glasses and pounded my head against the wall. Then he threw me back on the floor, he put his knee in my chest with all of his almost 300 pounds. He put his arm to my throat and was choking me. When I would almost pass out, he would raise his forearm off of my neck. I was begging for my life, promising to be good, and saying any and everything I could think of to not die that night.
He then put both of his hands around my neck choking me until I almost passed out over and over. He told me that night that if I called the cops that he would have a shoot-out with them and then kill me and then kill himself. When I caught my breath again, I went back to begging. He worked me over so bad that night I couldn’t eat or drink for weeks. It took me 2 whole days to eat a cup of yogurt and all I could do was sip water. I couldn’t talk for weeks and my chest hurt so bad from where he had his knee that I couldn’t stand to wear clothes that came anywhere near my chest.
I couldn’t even hug my kids. He kept me prisoner in a room with a bathroom for over a month. Every day he would tell me all day long that if I had him arrested again that he would kill me or have his family kill me or some of his friends he met in prison kill me. He would make me sleep in bed with him at night because he said the voices in his head were telling him that I was plotting on him. I was scared every day and every night. He wouldn’t let me near a phone because he didn’t want me getting help and he said he didn’t want me recording the threats. I was so scared I didn’t know what to do.
He wouldn’t let me leave the house and I was scared he would hurt my mother like he threatened if I called the police. He told me that if I took his kids again that he would kill me. He has told me over and over again during our marriage about the people that he has killed and gotten away with it and his family has told that he has too. So I believed him when he said that he is a killer and would kill me and my family. I asked him to leave and he said he would not leave without taking my boys with him. When I got my cellphone back, I called the domestic violence hotline. They didn’t have any beds anywhere for me and my children.
My church couldn’t even help find us shelter. Finally on August 8, 2014, a shelter had a bed. I snuck our things out in the middle of the night and I picked my kids up that day from school. I was working so hard to get somewhere safe for me that I forgot that August 8th is my son’s birthday. Now he hates his birthday. It was the first day we had to live in a shelter. Now we live in a house and they have lots of friends again. We don’t have a lot of things, but we are alive and healthy. I am a domestic violence survivor.
Amanda Priscilla Saxton- Remembered this holiday season- May her soul rest in eternal peace
"I'd like the memory of me to be a happy one.
I'd like to leave an afterglow of smiles when
life is done.
I'd like to leave an echo whispering softly
down the ways,
of happy times, and laughing times,
and bright and sunny days.
I'd like to be remembered as one that
passed this way,
spreading joy, cheer and sunshine each and
I'd like the tears of those who grieve
to dry before the sun,
and reflect upon happy memories I leave,
when life for me is done." -Carol Mirkel
I met you Saturday at the toy pick up. You asked me to write you an email to remind you of my story. I am the older woman with 5 children ages 9 months, 2 years, 3 years, 5 years and 6 years old.
They are my great nieces and nephews that are all non-verbal special needs. My niece did drugs and that addiction took her life back in June at the young age of 26.
These children are sweet and most of them are showing great progress since being in my care. Alexander, the 9 month old does not babble or try to repeat sounds but he smiles, and climbs and has a great personality forming.
Little sweet Hayliegh is 2 and is starting to repeat words. Often she get stuck on the last word spoken to her but it is progress. She used to not like to be held or even hugs and now her eyes light up at the thought of a hug, a kiss, or being held.
Zoey is 3 years old and is starting to speak, but her voice is so soft it is almost a whisper. She is loving and caring and now also loves to feel love. Both younger girls are now learning how to play, something I thought was a skill that comes naturally in children.
Jacob is 5 and brilliant with things he knows and will find ways to express. Even though he says very little words that he is also considered non-verbal his ability to speak may be worse than the girls. He is not able to repeat words or sounds but is really trying hard.
Alecia is 6 years old and she can talk but wont talk. She is very smart can read any thing but her comprehension we are still working on. She is sweet and charming and significantly developmentally delayed the same as the others.
My mother always instilled in me to be independent. She wanted to make sure I would never have to rely on a man. This philosophy was my way of life while growing up. In college I joined a sorority. There I found out the true meaning of public service. There we would mentor pregnant teens and during the Christmas holidays, my sorority sisters and I would make care packages for abuse women living in shelters. Who would know over 20 years later, I would be the one needing the mentoring.
Fast forward my life to January 2009. I was called to our conference room at my work. Across the table from me, I saw my supervisor crying. My senior manager was delivering the bad news that my job for nearly 10 years was being eliminated due to budget cuts. My heart sank. That’s when the fear set in. The first call I remember making was to my mother. She started praying for me. And the second call was to charming and charismatic boyfriend who I had been seeing for almost a year. I recall him saying very confidently saying, “Babe, don’t worry. I got it”. At that very moment, my life would change.
Feeling desperate and panicked with fear of losing my home of 7 years, I allowed him to move in. Things were going all right for minute. I was able to continue working my evening part-time job where both he and I met 3 years prior. Bills were getting paid. And we were surviving. I eventually landed a full-time job after 9 months of being unemployed. With that being said, I was able to quit my physically demanding intensive part-time job. Shortly there after, I became pregnant. That when the mental abuse began.
During my pregnancy, he started becoming very distant and withdrawn emotionally and physically. He started making excuses to not be at home. He would say one thing and then do another. He was happy one minute. And mad the next. He began to pick fights and became verbally abusive. Soon after, I discovered he was being unfaithful. A good friend/former co-worker had told me. I already had my suspicions and knew it was true. Needless to say, I kicked him out without hesitating.
I was 7 months pregnant at the time. As he was moving out, loading his belongings in this car, realized he was taking pieces of me in those bags too. One bag had Self Esteem. One had Shame. One had Fear. And other bag contained Abandonment Issues from my past. Not only did he take pieces of me with him, he took along his family too. They disappeared in the process. We were left with no help. Not only did his infidelity impact me mentally, it impacted me financially. I was left helpless and broken. I would succumb to 60% of my salary due to short term disability.
I ended up going on maternity leave two months early due to the stress. Not only I am not working, I’ll be out additional 6-8 more weeks due to caring for my daughter. He refused to pay any past due bills and eventually later would stop paying for the daycare. He would constantly remind me that I put him out. Apparently, he got satisfaction making me and his child suffer. The more I needed him, then more he would go out of his way to sabotage my requests. He would play these mental games with me for months. I began to second guess myself if I had made the right decision on putting him out. The repressed abandonment issues from my father started setting in.
For the first 6 months of my daughter’s life, I literally was just numb. The depression grew on a daily basis. I eventually would have to take a leave of absence from my job or risk getting fired. Eventually, I had to seek handouts from friends, family, organizations and had to even go on public assistance while taking him to court for custody and support. My mother was so concerned; she offered to come get my daughter. That’s when I made it a point to not being a “Victim”. I started going back to the counselor where he and I had gone to visit twice after the break up. I remember the counselor telling me he was Passive Aggressive. I read as much as I could on this disorder. Everything started to make sense. I actually felt empathy. I joined a bible based church and a joined a small group. There I would meet my new sorority sisters. All of the women had similar stories if not worst. Some of them had suffered mental abuse and some physical . Some wore the visible scars and some still had emotional problems.
What I learned from my small group, abuse may have different faces and ages, but the stories are the same. I was being mentored by women half my age. These women could have been my daughter. The abuser is someone who we loved and trusted. As I worked on my mental healing, I also had to work on my spiritual healing as well. With God’s grace, I would have to forgive him. I did win sole legal custody and court ordered child support. It’s not much, but we manage. I remember getting a call from an unknown number one day about a month after the court case had ended. I answered. And it was him. He first wanted to say he had changed. He was in church now and he was doing well. He apologized for the pain he had caused. He said he loved his daughter. He asked me for forgiveness. And I apologized for my role too. And I had to forgive him and his family year of pain they caused my to me and my daughter. I had to forgive I could live in peace. I did not want to carry this negative energy into any more relationships. Nor, did I want that for my daughter.
And I had to close this chapter out of my life. By continued my counseling sessions for over a year. I was able to combat my insecurities and abandonment issues head on. Due to mounting legal fees, I did eventually lose my home. But I realized that, A house is just a house. But a home to where and whom you make it. I’m at peace with that. It’s just material. My daughter is been my biggest inspiration. She gave me will to fight back and not became a victim. One day, I’ll have to tell her this story. I would instill her the same values my mother taught me. To be independent so she will never that to rely on a man.
I would sincerely like to thank WADT for giving me this opportunity to give hope for my Sorority Sisters who suffers abuse of any kind at someone else’s hand.
I praise God for your call today. I felt like I was at the end of my rope trying to figure out something for the holiday and especially food for my family.