In the Beginning

This blog is about domestic violence.  Not present day domestic violence, but domestic violence when it didn’t have a name.  back in the 60’s and 70’s when there was no such terms as “battered wife” or “domestic violence” .  There were no shelters, no mental health providers no support from family or friends.  No police to call, because it was a “family affair”.  Just put up with it.  Be a better wife, learn to be quite.  Embarrassed and humiliated women stayed.  Stayed because it only happened to those people, whoever the hell those people were.  Where are all those women that lived thru abuse and never were heard.  Never told there story and if they did were meet with ridicule. “I would never let my husband do that, I would be gone”

Finally leaving only too be shunned because you were divorced.  Usually left with the kids to survive on minimal support.  They were able to beat their wives and when they finally left they had survive on whatever.  The abuser was able to go on their merry little way, maybe live with some other woman and have two incomes while you were left to struggle.  Not even a slap on the hand.  And then your family sees you as the bad guy.  Even your children don’t want to hear it.  They don’t want to think badly of their “Daddy” even though he never took responsibility for his horrible acts of abuse.

I went to the local counseling group called “Harmony”.  you know what they did?  they sent a group of us to a male strip club to learn to be assertive .  Can you believe it, that was the answer, we just needed to learn to be assertive.  Not call the cops and have the MF locked up.

So what did women do if they had no community support, no family support, no police support.  They stayed!!!!

Or if they did leave it was usually not very pleasant.  Where are YOU???  Are you out there still in pain after all these years.  I know I am.  I have no family.  My parents are dead. I have no siblings.  My son was murdered and my four girls after my son’s murder flocked to the protection of their father.  The younger girls don’t remember. I got out before they could remember.  My son remembered, but he died. The only person I had in my life that loved me and knew what I had been thru.  My older daughter knows, but she has shut it out.  She has her own demons dealing with the murder of her brother at her house at her party.  What a mess.  So I moved out of the country.  I have no contact with my four daughters.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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