I'll never understand why a man hits a woman that he professes to love. I have no respect for men who hit women. Full stop. Growing up, I was surrounded by strong, independent women, including my grandmother who left her husband when she found out he was abusing my aunt.
The thought of someone hitting my mother was incomprehensible as wee. She's the type who'd likely wait until he fell asleep, and then cut off his "member" with a knife.
She's not the type to put up with nonsense from possessive men.
But I've known of many other women trapped in loveless marriages and relationships, tied to their abusers with seemingly no way out.
Take Lucy for instance...
With her, the sunglasses gave it away. When a woman suddenly starts wearing shades indoors, it may just be a sign that something bad is going on at home. Combine that with her walking gingerly and repeatedly saying she "fell down the stairs" and the thought of "Houston, we have a problem" pops into your head.
Lucy was a bubbly, vivacious woman who lit up the room whenever she entered it. This charming Latina carried an aura of pure joy about her, that affected almost everyone she met.
She was one of those people who like me, had a very giving nature, and could always be counted on when the going got tough. She was a confidante, and even though she was in her late twenties, seemed wise beyond her years. The type of person you'd call an "Old Soul" who helped many younger girls when they needed it the most.
Then she started coming in wearing shades...
I knew something was wrong immediately, because we worked as cashiers in a convenience store. Kinda hard to see what you're ringing up with dark sunglasses on, right? Me and the manager on duty stepped aside and discussed whether her repeated claims of falling down the stairs could be credible. We didn't believe it for a minute, nobody "slips" that much.
So we decided to put on a united front, by letting her know that if she ever had anything she wanted to talk about, we were there for her. This way she could drive when and how much she wanted to tell us, if anything, ensuring that she always remained in control.
But one day the glasses slipped off when she was carrying something, and we all gasped at the bruises around her eyes. One of my co-workers, a very confident African-American woman, spoke first and then gently said; "If you're ready to talk, we're ready to listen," and after breaking down in tears; talk she did...
We learned that her husband was a domineering, and possessive individual. we saw the change in her from photos. Before they met, we see a vibrant happy woman ready to start her life. A pretty brunette, she was a proud Latina who hailed from her homeland of Puerto Rico.
After she met him, the pictures change. She goes from being a beautiful almost Jennifer Lopez lookalike, to a sad, tired-looking woman, whose face begins showing the signs of repeated abuse.
In short, the smiles are gone.
And in photo after photo, we see a stern-looking husband, and a weary-looking woman whose light of life has finally gone out.
Her phone calls are intercepted by him, visitors are strictly controlled, and its hard to get ahold of here when we call about work.
The most recent beating was the last straw for Lucy, she'd finally had enough and was ready to leave. So we devised a plan to close the store and help her move out while he's away at work. With her permission (everything was done that way), I called his boss (who I knew) and explained the situation. He agreed to keep the rat there at work, and in fact scheduled him for a double shift, meaning he wouldn't get home until after midnight.
All of the employees volunteered to move her things out, and she took everything, leaving only his belongings.
There was a close call when a car resembling his started s-l-o-w-l-y crawling down the street. Lucy froze with fear, but we had a plan in case he unexpectedly showed up. I called his boss to confirm that he was still at work, and he was, crisis averted!
You could see the relief in her face, but we weren't home-free quite yet, as there was plenty of stuff yet to move. We all pitched in to help her rent the Uhaul truck, and it felt great when we got the last of the items safely stored away inside.
Since everyone said I was a good writer, I helped her draft the 'Dear John Letter' to her husband. We solicited thoughts from everyone, and I polished up the writing in order to ensure that her voice shone through, and that it was crystal-clear that the relationship was over, and she was never coming back.
I wish I still had the text of that letter, but it was one of the things that I lost when I was robbed here in the states, while I lived in Germany back in 2017/18.
Trust me, it was a juicy one, and a 'Dear John' letter that he'll never forget!
She'd taken everything out of the house sans his belongings, except for a tiny end table that she strategically placed in the middle of the living room.
So I had it in my possession (we'd drafted it at the store earlier in the week), and handed it to her. After one last look around at the home that held so many painful memories, gathering her inner strength and those of us around her, she confidently went to the end table, and propped the letter at an angle WHERE HE WAS SURE TO SEE IT.
Then Lucy stepped out into the light.
Into The Light
Back at the store there were hugs all around (she had a big heart), and tears of joy. I of course did not cry, hoe dare you think that! :) Why I was as solid as Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson. Who do you think I am? I kept it together. There were only a few beads of sweat pouring down my face from moving the furniture. Right? That's my story and I'm sticking to it! lol!
She thanked me again at the end for everything I'd done for her. Always seeking to empower her, I said; "No, thank you for allowing me to experience such a wonderful, giving, and POWERFUL woman such as yourself. I hope you have a wonderful life because you deserve it"
We all waved goodbye as her convoy of vehicles drove away.
And she did indeed drive away into a better life with a wonderful man. Lucy is now a happy mother living somewhere in New England. She's an inspiration to us all that a woman can come back and rebuild a life damaged by domestic violence.
Meanwhile back at the ranch... The now ex-husband RETURNS HOME FROM WORK...
Just picture the scene... Imagine his shock when he comes home to en empty house except for a tiny little end table, with a letter on it that would hit him like a ton of bricks. No more wife around to take his frustrations out on. No one to cook and clean for him while being beaten and domineered at every turn. The object of his possession and control had flown away like the free bird that she always was.
All he was left with was his own impotent rage.
We heard from the neighbors that screamed like an angry, wounded animal, punching the walls and breaking windows. He contacted the store, wanting to know where HIS wife was. "Sorry, we haven't got a clue" was the canned response.
He was in a relationship with a wonderful woman and he threw it all away. Lucy wanted a better life and now she has it. Her story is a testament that if you're trapped in an abusive relationship, you too have the power within you to escape that life. You're a strong woman, be one, and let the Lioness inside you ROAR!
If you're suffering from abuse, please contact the website of National Domestice Violence Hotline, call toll free: 1-800-799-7233, or text "START" to 88788. Help is available in English, Spanish, and over 200 other languages using a translation service 24 hours a day.
Thanks for sharing yet another powerful personal story. I don't understand abuse either. Not just physical abuse, even the verbal kind. Amazing to hear how you ( guys ) helped this woman 💚
Lucy was an inspiration, and it was more of just reminding her of the strength she had inside her. I grew up around strong women, and couldn't imagine anyone abusing them as well.
❤️