Jessica Aiken-Hall

Unleashing Secrets

On My Mind

Domestic Violence Awareness Month: Sara’s Story

A Monster

“As I sat in that doctor’s office waiting for the man in the white coat to reappear through his office door I was nervous. The palms of my hands were sweating and I could only hope that he was able to come to some conclusions on the pain in my stomach, the severe acid reflex that I had to battle day in and day out. The answers were not ones I expected to hear. “STRESS” was the only word that he expressed at first. That was the day that I learned how much of a negative effect stress can play on one’s body. What did I expect? I just spent two years of my life running for safety and hiding from the horrible sociopath that I once called my boyfriend.
As a domestic violence victim the greatest lesson I learned through my scary, life threatening hell of a situation was how difficult it is for a victim that is being abused day in and day out emotionally and physically to finally get the courage to do what they most likely should have done from the beginning which is to walk away. GET AWAY! Fear. That is the emotion that I must say was felt the most throughout my abusive relationship. Fear of what you might say wrong today, fear of who you may be accused of sleeping with tomorrow, fear of him raising his hands at you with your child asleep in the next room, fear of HIM period. I was scared. I was controlled. I was not allowed to have any friends. I was not allowed to make conversation with my mom, my dad, my sister, or my brother if it was conversation that spoke his name. Good or bad. I just was not allowed. He made me feel like dirt on the floor most days and then there were the days where he would pretend I was the most important person in the world. Lies. Fake. Secrets. I felt it all.
The day that I finally was able to walk away from my obsessed monster was the day that I began the chase. It began with non stop phone call after phone call until I had changed my phone number four times. He was still getting my number somehow, HOW?! The fear I now felt was beyond any fear I ever witnessed. He is going to kill me, I thought. After concluding with the help of my cell phone carrier that my phone had a spyware program installed it all began making sense. He knew all my conversations with my friends, my family and that was how. This monster then began to torture me via social media by creating fake profiles some of them being of myself. The entire two years that I spent with this sociopath was all adding up now. All of the names he had spoke of over the course of our relationship were they even real people? Now my brain was going crazy with thoughts. This sociopath that just so happened to cross my path in life had created an entire fake life with fake individuals that truly never existed. Once I was able to conclude that he could no longer locate a contact number for me he then proceeded to stalk and harass my parents and my siblings.
I will respectfully say that I could not have came out as strong as I am today if it was not for the help of the Vermont State Police and the trooper that worked my case hours and hours a week for a good year. This monster was smart, he had done this before and he knew just how to make it harder for the authorities to find him. It was now his goal to harass and torment myself and anyone close to me.
He accomplished it for a long time. I had no idea how I was ever going to trust anyone especially men ever again. I had zero self confidence for a long while as well and without the support system I had in my family and friends I am not sure I would be able to even discuss the experience I endured.
Today, my monster still has not been located. There is a warrant out for his arrest in the state of Vermont along with thirty plus charges for violation of a restraining order. The strength I have gained while experiencing the abuse and torture is what allows me to wake up every day and not be scared to walk outside or go to the grocery store in fear he would be watching me.
“I am unsure how your body did not just go into shock due to the amount of stress it endured the last few years Sara” said that man in the white medical coat. As a result of my horrific experience I now suffer from Barrett’s esophagus, GERD, Acid Reflux Disease, and Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Some days are better than others with how I feel health wise but in the end I am stronger, more confident,and a happier me.”

Photo Courtesy of: Jourdan Buck Photography

Sara’s story is important. She got out, and is now working hard to get a degree that will allow her to help others. When things didn’t go as planned, she made a new plan. It was so nice to meet Sara at the first Stand Up to Domestic Violence event. She is brave. She is strong. She is worthy. Thank you Sara for sharing your story for others to see what it was like, and to see the possibilities of a brighter future. One story at a time, we will make changes.

Remember, you are not alone. You are loved. You are important.

#DomesticViolenceAwareness

Domestic Violence: Physical Abuse

There is a beauty in letting go.

I think physical abuse in a domestic violence situation is one of the easier types to identify with. When someone hits you, it’s hard to deny, although, it is possible to minimize the actions.

You don’t have to have a black eye or bruises to have been physically abused. Some abusers are more subtle, and make sure they don’t leave marks. Black and blues, or not, it still counts.

Some examples of physical abuse are as follows:

  • Pulling your hair, punching, slapping, kicking, biting or choking you
  • Forbidding you from eating or sleeping
  • Hurting you with weapons
  • Preventing you from calling the police or seeking medical attention
  • Harming your children
  • Harming your pets
  • Abandoning you in unfamiliar places
  • Driving recklessly or dangerously when you are in the car with them
  • Forcing you to use drugs or alcohol (especially if you’ve had a substance abuse problem in the past)

Most every time my abuser assaulted me, he would choke me, followed by a threat of my murder. Thankfully I was strong enough to fight my way out of his grip before I lost consciousness. When he would fly into a fit of rage, I knew my safety, and the safety of my children was at risk. I knew if I didn’t try to escape from his grip, he would have kept going until I was dead. Once he started, there was no way to get him out of the dangerous trance he was in.

I remember the fear I felt the first time I saw the look of rage in his eyes. I was uncertain if I would live another day. Thoughts about the future I would miss out on if he took my last breath flashed before my eyes. I’d never get to see my kids grow up. I wouldn’t have a chance to meet my grandchildren. I wouldn’t grow old.

Thoughts frantically raced through my mind. Who would take care of my kids? What lies would he make them believe? Would he even be held accountable for my murder? No one knows who he really is. No one would believe he could do such things. What would the headlines in the newspaper say? Would I be missed? Was he right? Would anyone notice I was missing?

The monster he usually was, became magnified. Reasoning with him while he was in this state was not an option. The only thing I had left that I could do was fight back. Find the adrenaline induced strength and become my own monster. There was too much to lose to let him win. I’m not sure where the strength came from, but I am thankful everyday that I was able to find it. I am thankful he did not own guns, because I know the outcome would have been different. I know I would have become a headline in the local paper, either as a missing person, or as a murder.

*Harming your pets

But that was just the bad days. There were normal days that he was abusing me, and I didn’t even recognize it as abuse. He was notorious for hurting my pets. Because I loved them, he would hurt them in front of me so I could watch them suffer. When my son was a baby, we got a kitten. The poor thing didn’t stand a chance. Had I known what his future was going to be, I never would have adopted him.

His name was Howard. A small, black kitten. Howard was playful, as most kittens are. He was sweet and wanted loved. With a small baby it was sometimes hard to give him all of the love he was looking for, but he was learning how to fit into the family. Howard picked the wrong lap to crawl into looking for love. He did not find it. He found brutality and abuse. My ex-husband threw his little body against the wall, and laughed as the little baby cried. Howard, and my son. I rushed to the kitten’s rescue, where he came over and kicked his little body, yelling, “you had it coming you piece of shit.”

I tried to keep them apart, but there were times I was unable to. As expected, after the abuse Howard faced, he became mean and started attacking us. I knew for his safety and quality of life I had to find him a new home. He was still just a baby, and I knew he was scared and craved love. My mom agreed to add him to her collection of cats. This way, we would still be able to visit him. Howard was never the same. He couldn’t breath out of his nose and his teeth had been broken.

My love of animals made me try again. We adopted a dog. I thought maybe this time it would be different. It was not. The first accident in the house and he was at it again. I didn’t wait this time, I returned the dog to the shelter. Heartbroken, but I knew staying at the shelter was better than the life with us.

*Harming your children

It didn’t stop with pets though. His abuse began with the children, too. If my son woke up one too many times at night he was called every name you can imagine, and manhandled. Never really hit…not then anyway.

When I wasn’t able to protect my animals or my child, I knew I needed to leave. I had a plan, and packed my car ready to leave while he was at work. A neighbor clued him in on what I had been doing, and it became too dangerous to leave. If I couldn’t leave, I had to gather the strength to fight back.

*Driving recklessly or dangerously when you are in the car with them

Most of this abuse stayed behind our closed doors, but there was one time I remember well he was unable to pretend. He was driving my new car, with me and my three young children in their car seats when he noticed a young girl driving. The girl misjudged the distance between us and pulled out on to the road. There was plenty of time for him to slow down to avoid an accident, but he hit the gas. He ran my car into the side of hers, and when she got out her car, she was already crying. He tears infuriated him, and he screamed at her, calling her the names usually reserved for me. My babies were crying, but I had to get out to comfort this young girl, who was obviously a new driver. She was no more then seventeen, and he attacked her. If I did not step in, it may have become physical. Because of his behavior, I told her to go. I told her it was’t a big deal, and I didn’t care about the damage. I paid the price later for the kindness I gave her.

These were things I didn’t know were abuse, not until I started talking to others and doing my own research. This is why it is so important to share our stories and our experiences. When we recognize that we are not alone, it takes the stigma away. It makes us feel less broken or damaged. There is camaraderie in knowing someone else knows. And when you see others have survived some of these horrors, you know that you can too.

I urge you to speak out, even quietly. Talk with others who understand, and who have been there. There is healing in the release of these things. You never know who you might help. Stay strong. We are in this together.

#DomesticViolenceAwareness

Beautifully Broken, we will rise again

The Truth About Domestic Violence

It’s not pretty. It’s downright ugly. It affects lifetimes. Yours, theirs, and ours. You can break free, but it always has a hold, somewhere, deep down. When you least expect it, the old thoughts and beliefs shine through. There are times when you think there is no way out. These thoughts will win the struggle. Is there ever quiet? Do the thoughts they fed you ever really leave?

Fear floats around, circling every free space, and slowly seeps in. Will you ever be able to walk down the street without looking over your shoulder? Will your voice ever speak without a slight quiver, as you wait to be called yet another name? Will the self-doubt ever fully leave?

Why is it that for every step forward there are so many steps backwards? A weight as heavy as a sack of bricks drags behind as steps forward are taken, slowing us down, but never fully stopping us. The pull backward causes friction in the world around us. People don’t understand why we can’t let go. They don’t know the fear that we have grown accustomed to. They don’t understand that after hearing years of the same insults and put downs it’s not that easy to shake out of our heads. They see the smile, but they will never know the pain it hides.

They don’t understand why we can’t accept a compliment. They don’t get why we don’t see how amazing we really are. They don’t look into the same mirror that we do. A tainted mirror, showing us the monster they made us out to be. Not only did we hear the words that were spoken, now they are all we see. We blink our eyes a few times, and our true self emerges, only to be whisked away to the shadows. No, we are much too broken to see the truth, to see the beauty that everyone else sees.

This is our poison. The elixir they made us drink still circulates our cells. How could we not still believe these lies, when they became our reality?

“You’re such a fat slob.”

“No one will ever love you.“

“You’re worthless.”

“You’re crazy.“

“You need me.“

“You’ll never be anyone.”

“You don’t know how to have fun.”

“You’re a whore.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“The kids don’t even love you. They won’t miss you. No one will. They won’t even notice you are gone.”

The list is endless of the hurtful things you are made to believe about yourself. Your dreams disappear. What do you have to offer anyway? You give up. Withdraw from life. Withdraw from the people you love. You don’t deserve their love anyway. You put your head down, and you accept that this is your life. You see other couples, and you long for what they have. They look like they really love each other. Jealousy flushes your face as you imagine a life of happiness, a life of love. And then you remember. All the things he said come rushing back. Maybe he’s right.

The constant nag of the what ifs fill the silence. What if I had never went on that date? What if I never returned his call? What if I dumped him when I knew? What if I left him the first time he called me names? What if I had left him the first time he hit me? What if I was strong enough to see my worth?

What if he killed me? Or…what if killed becomes kills? What if I will be his prisoner for all eternity?

And that is when the anger kicks in. Rage.

No. He does not have that right to take any more from me than he already has.

No. He does not get to haunt my thoughts.

No. He will not destroy the hope that I have left.

The what ifs are just a product of his abuse, of all of the abuse I have ever endured. The what ifs keep me paralyzed, and I refuse to give in. I refuse to stand still. I refuse to remain quiet.

Unlike many others, I am free. I was able to make my escape once he was arrested. And, I am in counseling to work through the PTSD his abuse caused me. I will have good days, and I will have bad days. I will honor the lessons, and learn from the life of Hell I lived. I will turn my anger into action. I will not be silenced. I will fight back with information. I will share my truth, and I will not hold anything back. Secrets have no power once they are exposed.

I will speak until my voice stops trembling. I will go to counseling until I can see who I really am, not who I was made to believe I am. I will allow myself to get angry, and sad. I will feel everything, and anything. I will not minimize the trauma I went through.I will work through the guilt I feel for not leaving sooner.

I will not stop being me. I am a survivor. I am a fighter. I am an advocate.

My voice will be the voice for all others. My voice will be for the ones who cannot get away, or never did. My voice is strength, and my best weapon. I will turn my anger into good. I will be who I was never expected to be. I will learn to be my best self. I will shake the words I was forced to believe out of my head. I will see myself as others do. I will love myself. I will cherish the real, genuine, safe, honest love that I found, because I am worthy of it all.

What is Domestic Violence?

I get asked a lot what domestic violence is, and what kinds of abuse is included in the definition. The simple answer is: If you feel that you were a victim of Domestic Violence, you were. If someone made you fear for your life, made you question reality, forced you to have sex (even if you were married), isolated you from friends or family, gave you a black eye, or threatened to, then you have experienced domestic violence. If you have experienced none of those things mentioned, you might have experienced domestic violence as well.

The thing is, there are so many varieties of domestic abuse that it is hard to include every incident that may be considered domestic violence.

Domestic Violence, also known as Intimate Partner Violence is a pattern of abusive behavior used by one partner with the intention to control and dominate another partner in an intimate relationship.

Domestic violence does not discriminate. Anyone of any race, age, sexual orientation, religion or gender can be a victim of domestic violence. It can happen to people who are married, living together or who are dating, it can also happen to people who are separated. It affects people of all socioeconomic backgrounds and education levels.

Domestic violence includes behaviors that physically harm, provoke fear, prevent a partner from doing what they wish or force them to behave in ways they do not want. It includes the use of physical and sexual violence, threats and intimidation, emotional abuse and withholding access to finances. Many of these different forms of domestic violence/abuse can be occurring at any one time within the same intimate relationship.

All forms of abuse come from the abuser’s desire for power and control.

Power and Control Wheel

Abuse can be difficult to identify, because an abusive person doesn’t always act this way. Sometimes they may be loving and kind. But if you often feel afraid of upsetting your partner, and change what you do to avoid their anger, then this is a sign that you are being abused.

Warning Signs of Domestic Violence

It’s not always easy to tell at the beginning of a relationship if it will become abusive. People are often on their best behavior at the start of a relationship. Possessive and controlling behaviors usually don’t appear suddenly, but instead develop and intensify as the relationship grows., appearing so slowly, that you don’t even notice they are there.

It can also be hard to identify your relationship as being one with domestic violence because domestic violence does not look the same in every relationship. Every relationship is different. But one thing most abusive relationships have in common is the abusive partner does many different kinds of things to have more power and control over their partner.

Some of the signs of an abusive relationship include a partner who:

  • Criticizes you, makes you feel that you are not good at anything
  • Calls you crazy
  • Gas lighting- alters your reality
  • Minimizes the abuse that is happening
  • Blames the abuse on you. “You made me hit you.” “If you didn’t do ______, I wouldn’t have _____.”
  • Insults, demeans or shames you with put-downs
  • Shows extreme jealousy of time spent with your friends and time spent away
  • Keeps you or discourages you from seeing friends or family members
  • Prevents you from working or attending school
  • Controls all of the fiances spent in the household
  • Takes your money or refuses to give you money for necessary expenses
  • Looks at you or acts in ways that frighten you
  • Controls your every move: who you see, where you go, or what you do
  • Prevents you from making your own decisions
  • Tells you that you are a bad parent or
  • Threatens to harm or take away your children
  • Destroys your property
  • Threatens to hurt or kill your pets
  • Uses weapons to intimidate you
  • Pressures you to have sex when you don’t want to or do things sexually you’re not comfortable with
  • Pressures you to use drugs or alcohol

Some of the forms of Domestic Violence include:

Physical Abuse

Emotional Abuse

Sexual Abuse and Coercion

Financial Abuse and control

Digital abuse

The next few blogs will explain a little about each of the above types of abuse. This is just a list, there are other ways that domestic violence could be affecting you, or someone you love. Don’t minimize the situation. If it affects you, leaves you feeling bad about yourself, or unsafe it counts. As mentioned above, every relationship is different, so every form of abuse and how it unfolds is different.

Remember YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

You deserve to be safe and to be loved.

Reach out for help when you are ready. You are worth it.

If you are ready to ask questions, or get help for you or a loved one, look for your local domestic violence center. If you are unsure where to start, call The National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233.

***Much of this information was found at: https://www.thehotline.org .They are a wonderful resource and a great place to start to find information and the strength you may be searching for.

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#DomesticViolenceAwareness

Where to Start?

I met with my therapist again this week, and we talked about how I handled Good Friday and Easter. Days that for the last ten years have brought pain and suffering for me. This year, sandwiched in between the days was the third anniversary of my mom’s death.

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t shed a tear. The pain was gone. I didn’t reminisce over what could have, should have or would have been. I didn’t put my thoughts into the dark hole of grief. The days came and went without the heaviness they usually carry. I told her I was amazed at how effective the EMDR therapy had been in such a short amount of time. Two sessions took ten years of pain, possibly more. She said we hold memories in networks, and related thoughts can be healed, even without focusing on them. So, being able to work through my mom’s anniversary was an added bonus of the work we did on the loss of my gram. As she told me that, I thought about the possibilities that are in front of me. There is so much work to be done, but where to start? We talked about where to go next, about the top issues that cause me distress. My mind went in circles. How could I pick the top issues? What was really causing me distress now? My healing journey has been pretty complete. Most days are OK, with days of OK with a side of sadness. Knowing that memories are stored in networks, and connected in a web, woven together by similarities, I thought about the root of my suffering. My mom. I always feel a little guilty or cliche about blaming my mom. That’s the joke of all counseling sessions. “What did your mom do to screw you up?” For the longest time, I wouldn’t let my thoughts take me there. I didn’t want to be one of them that blamed all of my problems on my mom. I was so adamant that she was not my problem that I brushed off the first notion of it. It was only after acknowledging it, and working through it that I was able to start the true healing. When I told her I wanted to work on some memories of my mom, she asked me which one? I didn’t really know. There were so many. She suggested I close my eyes and see what image comes to me. It was fitting, that the title of my book was the image projected on my mental movie screen. I pictured my three-year-old self, pleading with the monster to give me back my mommy. The terror from that moment flooded me. When I was asked what thoughts this image brought to mind, I responded, “that I am annoying, an inconvenience, not worth people’s time, not good enough.” And there we have it. The root of my self-sabotaging behavior and thoughts, the feeling that my presence is not worth any one’s time, the feeling of being inadequate, of never being enough was programmed into my tiny, little, 3-year-old brain. All of the healing in the world would not work if this block was not removed. For close to thirty-five years I have held this block in my mind, stopping short of true healing. Each and every time I get close to tackling these thoughts my brakes instantly go one, and I am stuck in tar, unable to move forward, or to shake these thoughts out of my mind. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what. All I knew was the same terror that came as that 3-year-old filled me when I came close to working on these thoughts. Frozen. Through the process of the EMDR therapy so much happened, in such a short amount of time. As we worked through the memories, a vision of my gram came in. Her smiling face, and a bright, yellow light surrounding her. The anxiety and terror I had been feeling was lifted, and in it’s place warmth and love filled me. I saw my gram take the hand of my child-self and take her out of that bedroom with the monster. We walked away, and slowly my mom disappeared. The bed was empty, the blankets pulled up and straightened. When I was asked what I saw, I said that my gram was going to protect the little girl, and keep her safe. Visions of my child-self and my gram playing together came, and my whole body shifted. In the past I had been told to take care of my child-self. The idea of it sounded far fetched, and honestly, a little crazy. I was told to give that little girl the love and support she was longing for. Let her be little. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. A burden was lifted when I saw my child-self was in my gram’s hands now. I wouldn’t have to care for her, but I knew she would be safe, and happy. When I was asked to do a scan of my body from head to toe after the session, I felt something I had never felt before. A clear flow of energy. No blocks. No tension. Nothing in the way of the energy circulating throughout my body. A notable thing to mention is that as I was doing the scan of my body, I said that I felt like I was finally inside my body. With the damaged little girl in the way, I was never fully able to experience life as me. I had never thought of it in those terms before, but as I finished up the scan, I noticed that I could actually feel my feet on the floor. As in, I have never noticed that sensation before. When I shared this with my therapist, she smiled at me, and said how exciting it will be to get to know myself. The thought brought tears to my ears. I never expected to get to a place in my life where the pain and thoughts were not overwhelming. To think that this can happen for all of the areas of trauma in my life is beyond exciting, I don’t even have the words to describe how this all feels. As we talked at the end of our hour together I told her how interesting it was that we had worked on the loss of my gram first, because without that work being done, seeing her come to take my child-self would have been crushing. It would not have worked, because the emotions tied to that loss were so intense. Also, the timing of this all worked out well. The groundwork for the foundation of my healing had been laid. I was ready. There is nothing left to do now, except heal. Who am I to question how all this works? Be kind to yourself. We are all healing from something.

April Is Almost Gone

April is almost gone, just twelve days to go. Usually, grief latches on as the calendar page turns from March to April. Depression soon fills all the creases and crevices from my inside out, leaving little room to breathe. The pain of knowing what April stole from me was unbearable, no matter how healed I thought I was. The pain was still there, taunting me from a far off place.

This year, my therapist and I started using EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing ) therapy. EMDR is used to help people who have been through a traumatic event reprogram their thoughts, beliefs, and reactions to the trauma. This process helps remove the block a person created in order to cope with the traumatic event. Once the block is removed, healing can begin.

I had heard about EMDR, and saw it used when I was at Onsite last year. It was just by chance that my therapist asked me if I would be open to trying it. I wasn’t sure it would work, but I decided to give it a try–I had nothing to lose.

The first session was just days before April 1st. It was perfect timing to test the results. If April could sneak past me, without depression following it, I knew it was working. The first part of the session was used to create a safe space, and a feeling that I could pull up if I needed to. Then I was to think about the two most upsetting memories or beliefs about my gram’s death. That was easy, because, even after so many years, the guilt still haunted me. My first belief was that I killed my gram. A nurse at the ER even cast the blame on me. After my gram’s surgery, I had not filled her prescription; mostly as an order by my gram who just wanted to get home. The following day, I forgot to fill them after work, and then she was on her way to the hospital in the back of an ambulance. I was told it was irresponsible to not get the prescriptions filled, and it was my fault that my gram had a heart attack. My next regret was that I did not follow the ambulance to Dartmouth when she was transferred. I wanted to, but my gram insisted that I go home to my children; who were eleven months, three and five years old. I felt guilty that I listened to her. I felt guilty that she arrived at the hospital alone. I felt guilty that I wasted minutes I could have spent with her.

As I explained these thoughts to my therapist, I told her, “Logically, I know I didn’t kill her.” But logic doesn’t always come into play when there is trauma. The doctor at her bedside after she died told me it was not my fault. And, if I had not listened to her, and followed the ambulance, she would have been angry at me. I know these things, but the guilt was overpowering.

During the session I went through that day step, by step, and pulled up memories and feelings that have been swirling inside of me for the last ten years. I cried. I smiled. I felt sensations throughout my body. I was exhausted. It felt like years of pain and memories were lifted out of me, shook around, and re-positioned. I seemed to have responded to EMDR quickly, and effectively.

The following days came and floated by. The dread that usually arrives with April was not there. I was able to think back to those last few moments with my gram without the overwhelming pain, without the longing, without the deep sadness. A few tears fell, quietly, and quickly on the ten year anniversary. But, they stopped as soon as they started. I felt comfort and even smiled at some of the thoughts that came. 

She was ready, and she knew I never would be. She picked how and where she wanted to die. She was in charge, and went peacefully. There was nothing more that I could ask for. She deserved to die with dignity. After ten years, I let her go. I let her go, and accepted that she will never leave me. Her love and guidance are with me everyday. And, for the first time, I actually believe this.

Since her death happened on Good Friday, Easter has also haunted me. This year, as we approach Good Friday tomorrow, I am free. I am free, and so is she.