My name is Desiree Kaye, and I’m a domestic violence survivor. Until recently, I didn’t see all of what I went through as abuse. Toward the end though, there was no doubt I was being abused, even to outsiders. However, my situation didn’t meet the standard media idea of abuse. This prevented me from getting help I needed in some cases, as it does for many victims.
I met my ex husband back in 1999 when I was a senior in high school. We had our first date the day after I graduated. He was so good-looking and charming. The 32 year old me now would see him for what he really is. He persuaded me to have sex with him way sooner than I wanted, and didn’t take no for an answer. That should have been an early sign that this guy was no good. But I didn’t know any better. After only a few weeks of dating, he convinced me to spend money intended for my housing deposit at University of Oregon to bail him out of him being behind on his rent. After this, I moved in with him because my parents were naturally very upset with me and I felt that I could not live with them anymore and he convinced me that us living together would be a great idea.
The controlling behavior started early. He left me with virtually no money. If I went out with friends, he either went with us, or would scream at me when I came home because I was gone too long. He convinced me not to go to college because that would mean the end of our relationship because the university was a two hour drive away. He was in the Army National Guard, and a few months into our relationship, he was deployed to Saudi Arabia for four months. He sent me no money home to pay bills. I got calls from his creditors constantly.
When my ex came home that February, he proposed, and I (naively) said yes. But he wanted to keep our engagement a secret. All through our relationship so far I had not been using birth control because he had told me he was sterile. He said he very much wanted children, but I didn’t. That June I became pregnant. He told me that if I had an abortion, that would be the end of our relationship. I look back now and realize how controlling our relationship was, but then I never saw it. There were rumors of infidelity at this point, but I chose to stay. He would yell at me and accuse me of cheating on him because his male friend who flirted with me while he was deployed made crude jokes as to the paternity of our child.
Our relationship continued like this for years. After our daughter was born, I attempted to go back to work because we needed the money. At first I couldn’t, because he would not help with teaching my daughter to take a bottle. Then, once she was old enough for solid food, I did find a job. But he would call me all day every day at my job, making my boss very angry. Then he would find reasons to have me come home; our daughter was sick, she wouldn’t stop crying, etc. I persisted, but after September 11, 2001, my hours were cut from full time to about 10 hours a week, and it didn’t make financial sense to work. Then I returned to school the next year.
However, my education was cut short due to my ex being deployed for war. He served fourteen months in Kuwait and Iraq. During this time, I felt peace. I was able to spend time with friends again. I was able to go to my mom’s house without him being upset and calling me to ask when I was going to returns several times within a couple hours.
When he returned, things escalated, and badly. At first, I tried to be patient. He was in a war, he had PTSD. He was in a situation where he had to kill a couple of men. I waited for him to go through counseling and get on medication. He started yelling at me for little things like not putting the toilet paper on the roll the right way. He screamed at me once when we had a couple we were friends with over. Us ladies went to the store and I came back with the wrong kind of milk. He even yelled at one of my few remaining friends once. He started demeaning me, putting me down and calling me names. He started to force me to have sex with him when I didn’t want to. My ex started to threaten my pets.
Once, when my ex got mad at me for something, he punched a hole in the wall. I knew I would be next. The next day he bought me a TV/DVD combo. He always bought me stuff when he was mean to me. As if that would make it better. I decided then and there that it was time to get out. I started to plan. I started looking for jobs. I found one. I got myself my own car. I made excuses for the job and car. It was hard lying, but it was what I had to do. I tried to be the best, most obedient wife I could during that time. Finally, when I had enough money saved, I got my own apartment, in a gated complex.
The night I moved was the most nerve-wracking of my life. I had my dad and some friends that still mean the world to me come in the night and help load up what belongings we could into trucks and get me out of there. My ex had gone to a friend’s house. It started to snow. I was only able to get about half of my belongings. But I had my daughter and my dog. And my freedom.
It has been a decade since I left my ex. Now I have a loving, healthy marriage. I am one year away from completing my bachelor’s degree in women, gender and sexualites. When I am done, I plan to help other victims of domestic violence. I have gone from being a victim to being a survivor. It has taken a lot of time, a lot of therapy, and a lot of love.
If you are being abused in any way right now, or you have been, I want you to know it is not your fault. You are absolutely not alone. There are ways out, if you want to get out. It is hard, but the new you afterward is so worth it. You deserve to be safe. You deserve to be loved. You do not deserve to be hurt.
Here is a bit of information for services and support:
http://www.thehotline.org/ or 1-800-799-7233 | 1-800-787-3224 (TTY)
http://cardv.org/
Feisty Feminism 