Grief in the Midst of Domestic Violence

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS MATERIAL RELATED TO ABUSE, INCLUDING EMOTIONAL AND SEXUAL. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

That image will never escape my mind.

I was told he was in a car accident, that they were putting a neck brace on him, that he was being transported to a hospital at least an hour away via helicopter. I hopped in my car with his brother and fiance, and I drove to the hospital, waiting hours in the emergency room. We were there first. Soon following were his grandmother and foster mother. Finally, we were called into the room.

His face was bruised, he was barely conscious, a cut on his lip, and he had a neck brace, lying so still. I was led to believe he experienced minor injuries at first, but as I stood there, I saw far worse than anything minor.

He experienced brain shearing, meaning his brain spun around inside of his head. He was experiencing internal bleeding in his brain, and he was constantly being monitored for brain swelling. We were told if the swelling were significant enough, his brain would shrivel.

He was in the ICU. I spent several nights in that hospital. As soon as I finished work, I was driving 2 hours a day just to be at his side. Mostly, he was dormant. His behavioral filter had disappeared. His hands and arms had to be constrained because he continued pulling out IVs. He would sleep, then he would wake up and scream, and beg to please be let out. I watched him cry and scream. He would ask the same questions over and over and over again.

I couldn’t hold his hand. I couldn’t hug him and tell him that everything was okay.

He was transported 4 hours away to another rehabilitation center for TBI. The first time I saw him, he was stumbling, but taking small steps. He was speaking coherently. I cried happy tears seeing him recover so well. I was clouded with the idea that I was in love with him. We played card games, played pool, danced in the visitor’s center. I saw others making decisions for his treatment, and I decided that never again would I feel so powerless. It was at that time that I decided I would do everything in my power to ensure I would always protect him and love him.

Why am I telling you this story?

Because he was my abuser.

I didn’t know it yet, but he would later abuse me. I was constantly pardoning his abuse because he groomed me, and during the honeymoon phases of abuse, he was sickeningly sweet to a point that I ignored the fact that he manipulated me, lied to me, emotionally abused me, raped me, bullied me. He attempted to cheat on me, during the beginning of our relationship, he lied about his age, he was constantly trying to coerce me to purchase handguns even when acknowledging my suicidal past.

He abused me.

That tragic, pretty narrative above was what continuously inspired me to cling to my marriage and relationship with him. I felt so much guilt, I felt so powerless, and the moment that car accident happened, I was trapped in his clutches.

This is the very difficult point I am trying to make.

Tragic events don’t erase abuse.

Difficult diagnoses don’t erase abuse.

Trauma inflicted on a perpetrator doesn’t erase abuse.

There is still serious responsibility that needs to be taken, even when perpetrators of abuse experience their own trauma and tragedy. It’s a terrible, terrible reality. It may make me seem heartless, but I never want another person to feel trapped in the clutches of their abuser because they experienced similar trauma to me. Seeing someone almost die changes something in you. Your mind is clouded by only the false image of them, a glorified image of them, because now, they are a victim instead of the predator. As human beings, we all experience suffering, and that includes our perpetrators.

Empath vampires will do anything to manipulate a situation, and once they have tangible ammunition to isolate you, to receive your sympathies, to lower your guards, they will do everything to keep you trapped.

A perpetrator’s traumatic past or present does not erase the fact that they are an abuser. I hate wording it that way, and I hate that this is the reality, but please, please do not permit rose-colored glasses of an abuser’s suffering to paint the picture that their actions may be pardoned. You are not responsible for your perpetrator’s well-being.

You deserve safety. You deserve freedom. You deserve happiness, unconditional love, and the comfort in knowing you don’t have to walk on eggshells.

If you are experiencing domestic abuse, please reach out to the following hotline. Love shouldn’t hurt.

Remember, you are never alone. Remember, it is okay to not be okay. Remember, your safety and mind are a priority. Remember to show love and kindness today, to others, but also, to yourself. You deserve safety and peace.