Survivor Stories
Trigger Warning: The following stories may discuss and/or contain details related to trauma, abuse, and violence.
Support is available 24/7 through KWRCC’s Crisis Line at 907-486-3625.
Support is available 24/7 through KWRCC’s Crisis Line at 907-486-3625.
3/23/21
Joe and I were married in 1968. I thought I was sooooooo in love. Someone was interested in me for myself, not for what he could get from me, but in me!
By not having a father or father figure while growing up, I had no idea how fathers and daughters were supposed to relate to one another. I didn't know what sexual abuse was and had no idea what rape was. That part of my education never had a name tag except "Don't tell anyone," so I never learned the difference between correct touching and incorrect touching.
After we married, I realized that I'd married my mom. Nothing I ever did was good enough or done right but if anything went wrong, it was always MY fault. When our vehicle broke down it was my fault, Joe lost his job- my fault, natural calamity- yup, my fault. It took my counselor months to make me realize that not everything that happened was my fault. She had to ask me what made me so important that I had control of everything so that if it failed it was my fault.
One evening while our daughter was still a baby, we were invited to go to a friend's house to play cards. Joe wanted to go, so we went and the card game became Poker and the Poker soon became "Strip Poker." The other couple had an open marriage and shared partners. I didn't think we had an open marriage but when the other couple's wife decided she wanted Joe in her bed, I discovered that we did. I cried and begged Joe to go home, but he got so angry, told me it was all my fault and that I could either accept it or leave and go home to my mother. He said that he'd give our daughter to his mother and I'd never see her again. He also told me, at this time, that if I ever tried to leave him, that he'd find me, take any children we had and I'd never see any of them again. I believed him, shut up and accepted. When I told my mom and asked for help, she said "You made your bed, now you lie in it. We don't divorce in our family, so you won't be getting one either."
This is also about the time that I learned to NEVER REFUSE MY HUSBAND SEX and NEVER, NEVER say NO to him for anything. I said "no" to sex one night and nothing happened until I went to sleep, then he rolled me over, held my face in the pillow and had anal sex with me. When he finished, he said, "Remember, do NOT ever say NO to me again, EVER. It's MY RIGHT to have sex with you whenever and wherever I want to and you will NOT refuse me." This punishment was not unusual. Punishment was always swift and harsh. He always used sex to punish, he'd cruelly rape me, deliberately inflicting pain. Thus I learned to never say "no" to my husband, never refuse him sex and NEVER do anything to draw attention to myself. He abused me mentally, emotionally, socially, sexually, and physically, but it never showed. He wanted everyone to think we were the "perfect couple."
Mental/Emotional abuse is far and away worse than physical abuse and harder to overcome. The scars of mental and emotional abuse don't show. You can't see the scars, but they're there. I have been on the receiving end of mental/emotional/spiritual and social abuse compounded with isolation most of my life. Facing the abuse and working through it has made me a stronger person but it has also made me hard. There are very few soft edges left.
I AM A SURVIVOR.
Joe and I were married in 1968. I thought I was sooooooo in love. Someone was interested in me for myself, not for what he could get from me, but in me!
By not having a father or father figure while growing up, I had no idea how fathers and daughters were supposed to relate to one another. I didn't know what sexual abuse was and had no idea what rape was. That part of my education never had a name tag except "Don't tell anyone," so I never learned the difference between correct touching and incorrect touching.
After we married, I realized that I'd married my mom. Nothing I ever did was good enough or done right but if anything went wrong, it was always MY fault. When our vehicle broke down it was my fault, Joe lost his job- my fault, natural calamity- yup, my fault. It took my counselor months to make me realize that not everything that happened was my fault. She had to ask me what made me so important that I had control of everything so that if it failed it was my fault.
One evening while our daughter was still a baby, we were invited to go to a friend's house to play cards. Joe wanted to go, so we went and the card game became Poker and the Poker soon became "Strip Poker." The other couple had an open marriage and shared partners. I didn't think we had an open marriage but when the other couple's wife decided she wanted Joe in her bed, I discovered that we did. I cried and begged Joe to go home, but he got so angry, told me it was all my fault and that I could either accept it or leave and go home to my mother. He said that he'd give our daughter to his mother and I'd never see her again. He also told me, at this time, that if I ever tried to leave him, that he'd find me, take any children we had and I'd never see any of them again. I believed him, shut up and accepted. When I told my mom and asked for help, she said "You made your bed, now you lie in it. We don't divorce in our family, so you won't be getting one either."
This is also about the time that I learned to NEVER REFUSE MY HUSBAND SEX and NEVER, NEVER say NO to him for anything. I said "no" to sex one night and nothing happened until I went to sleep, then he rolled me over, held my face in the pillow and had anal sex with me. When he finished, he said, "Remember, do NOT ever say NO to me again, EVER. It's MY RIGHT to have sex with you whenever and wherever I want to and you will NOT refuse me." This punishment was not unusual. Punishment was always swift and harsh. He always used sex to punish, he'd cruelly rape me, deliberately inflicting pain. Thus I learned to never say "no" to my husband, never refuse him sex and NEVER do anything to draw attention to myself. He abused me mentally, emotionally, socially, sexually, and physically, but it never showed. He wanted everyone to think we were the "perfect couple."
Mental/Emotional abuse is far and away worse than physical abuse and harder to overcome. The scars of mental and emotional abuse don't show. You can't see the scars, but they're there. I have been on the receiving end of mental/emotional/spiritual and social abuse compounded with isolation most of my life. Facing the abuse and working through it has made me a stronger person but it has also made me hard. There are very few soft edges left.
I AM A SURVIVOR.
10/23/20
I was 21 and thought I married my soul mate.
Looking back on it now I realize how childish I was at that age. After I got pregnant unexpectedly with our first child everything changed. He was angry all the time. All he cared about was how this baby was going to be a financial burden. He didn't speak to me for months after I told him we were going to have a baby. Well, we did and she was amazing. The best thing that had ever happened to me. Only my husband did not feel the same way. He started to get aggressive. He would push me if I was in his way, nudge me harder than needed to get past me in the hallway, and blatantly ignore me if he wasn't the center of attention. One night he got so mad he pulled back his fist and punched me in the face. I was shocked. This was not the man I thought I married. I was scared and clueless of what to do. All I could do was help by making as much money as possible to lighten the financial burden and hope that this was a temporary thing.
When I got pregnant with our second child not only did I realize that this wasn't temporary but he put me in prenatal ICU. I tripped over a stupid cable for dial up internet and interrupted his Yahoo Chess game. (Yup... I'm that old.) I was coming down the stairs and he punched me in the stomach. I was only 6 months pregnant and went into pre-term labor. He was furious that he had to take me to the hospital. The last thing he said to me when he dropped me off was that I better not say anything and that he had our oldest daughter and to remember that. I wasn't sure what that threat meant but it scared me enough to keep my mouth shut in the hospital. After a brief hospital stay and two months of bedrest, our second daughter was born.
He was fine the most part for a couple of years. Then he turned wicked. The scariest moments were always right after the kids went to bed. He also learned that if he hit within the hairline, the bruises were less noticeable. This went on for too many years because I couldn't find a way out. His parents were rich and the family always said if I left they would not let me have my children.
One day I had had enough. He hit me so hard I bounced off the counter and stools and was knocked out. Our neighbor's daughter happened be outside and saw everything through our back windows. She called 911. The paramedics came and took me to the hospital and he was taken to jail. That was the final straw.
A week later, I walked into the Human Resources office of the company I worked for and asked if I quit what would they say to anyone who called asking why I was no longer employed there. They said they could not give specifics only that I was no longer a part of the company. Well... I quit. I went home and told my husband that I was laid off due to over staffing. I went to real estate school, I took jobs babysitting, I got a part time gig at a cool restaurant and worked extremely hard for tips. For every three houses I sold, I only told him about two of them. I only gave him half of the tip money. I told him I baby-sat for free for friends. After about two years, I had saved just over five thousand dollars in a frozen bag of peas in our freezer. He hated peas and I took a chance that the money would be safe there.
Once I had the money saved, I went to see a lawyer. I told him the whole truth. I explained to him my fears and he was amazing. I gathered all my hospital records. Turns out I have had more concussions than most pro football players. At first the judge in our divorce was not very nice. I wanted to leave the state with my children. They were old enough to chose who they wanted to be with and the judge spoke with both of them to see how they felt. They both told stories of what they saw and how bad it was at home. They told the judge about the time he held us at gunpoint. Two months into the divorce proceedings, the judge called me personally at home. He had received all of my hospital records. He apologized for his curtness in the courtroom and told me I could call in for any future hearings. I was given custody of our children and from that moment on, I did everything I could to give them the best life possible. I am living the best life possible. No one deserves to ever be treated the way I was treated. My children did not deserve to be treated the way they were treated.
Life is short. Help is out there. I hope my story helps too.
I was 21 and thought I married my soul mate.
Looking back on it now I realize how childish I was at that age. After I got pregnant unexpectedly with our first child everything changed. He was angry all the time. All he cared about was how this baby was going to be a financial burden. He didn't speak to me for months after I told him we were going to have a baby. Well, we did and she was amazing. The best thing that had ever happened to me. Only my husband did not feel the same way. He started to get aggressive. He would push me if I was in his way, nudge me harder than needed to get past me in the hallway, and blatantly ignore me if he wasn't the center of attention. One night he got so mad he pulled back his fist and punched me in the face. I was shocked. This was not the man I thought I married. I was scared and clueless of what to do. All I could do was help by making as much money as possible to lighten the financial burden and hope that this was a temporary thing.
When I got pregnant with our second child not only did I realize that this wasn't temporary but he put me in prenatal ICU. I tripped over a stupid cable for dial up internet and interrupted his Yahoo Chess game. (Yup... I'm that old.) I was coming down the stairs and he punched me in the stomach. I was only 6 months pregnant and went into pre-term labor. He was furious that he had to take me to the hospital. The last thing he said to me when he dropped me off was that I better not say anything and that he had our oldest daughter and to remember that. I wasn't sure what that threat meant but it scared me enough to keep my mouth shut in the hospital. After a brief hospital stay and two months of bedrest, our second daughter was born.
He was fine the most part for a couple of years. Then he turned wicked. The scariest moments were always right after the kids went to bed. He also learned that if he hit within the hairline, the bruises were less noticeable. This went on for too many years because I couldn't find a way out. His parents were rich and the family always said if I left they would not let me have my children.
One day I had had enough. He hit me so hard I bounced off the counter and stools and was knocked out. Our neighbor's daughter happened be outside and saw everything through our back windows. She called 911. The paramedics came and took me to the hospital and he was taken to jail. That was the final straw.
A week later, I walked into the Human Resources office of the company I worked for and asked if I quit what would they say to anyone who called asking why I was no longer employed there. They said they could not give specifics only that I was no longer a part of the company. Well... I quit. I went home and told my husband that I was laid off due to over staffing. I went to real estate school, I took jobs babysitting, I got a part time gig at a cool restaurant and worked extremely hard for tips. For every three houses I sold, I only told him about two of them. I only gave him half of the tip money. I told him I baby-sat for free for friends. After about two years, I had saved just over five thousand dollars in a frozen bag of peas in our freezer. He hated peas and I took a chance that the money would be safe there.
Once I had the money saved, I went to see a lawyer. I told him the whole truth. I explained to him my fears and he was amazing. I gathered all my hospital records. Turns out I have had more concussions than most pro football players. At first the judge in our divorce was not very nice. I wanted to leave the state with my children. They were old enough to chose who they wanted to be with and the judge spoke with both of them to see how they felt. They both told stories of what they saw and how bad it was at home. They told the judge about the time he held us at gunpoint. Two months into the divorce proceedings, the judge called me personally at home. He had received all of my hospital records. He apologized for his curtness in the courtroom and told me I could call in for any future hearings. I was given custody of our children and from that moment on, I did everything I could to give them the best life possible. I am living the best life possible. No one deserves to ever be treated the way I was treated. My children did not deserve to be treated the way they were treated.
Life is short. Help is out there. I hope my story helps too.
10/15/20
I grew up in a single parent home with two sisters. Our dad chose to live on his own before I could remember.
Mom worked two and sometimes three jobs to make ends meet. She loved us kids and of course we drove her crazy. One of my favorite memories is when our grandmother drove by to check on us after school and caught us jumping from the roof of our home, we were practicing our stunt-roll technique of course. No one truly understood except us kids.
Fast-forward to when our mom shared with us that we would have a new dad and she would be married in June. It sounded good since he was around and bought us bikes and gifts for birthdays.
What we didn't know is this new man, our now step-dad carried a wound, a black-hole of a void from not growing up with a dad of his own. We quickly learned when stress increased so did drinking alcohol and drug use.
80% of the time things were peaceful at home, we were provided for, and everyone seemed happy, 20% of the time it was a nightmare. I recall evenings when he would come home drunk afterwork yelling that dinner was not ready or the house wasn't clean which escalated into physical abuse mostly toward our mom. This is one of the nights we kids had to jump out of the windows and ran to our neighbors to call for help.
Us kids were extremely careful to not get into trouble because the discipline was ten times in terms of pain and consequence then the mistake or behavior. One afternoon after arriving home from school, opening my bedroom door, I realized I forgot to take the trash to the curb again, this time it was poured onto my bed as a “I bet you won't forget next time” punishment.
Much of my away at college years, I would receive random phone calls from mom that she was "safe" at the women's shelter, I couldn't call her back, I couldn't come make sure she was ok. But that she wanted to let me know that he was at it again. I remember feeling helpless. Completely helpless. Even if I wanted to, If I tried to protect her, or take action against him I would also have a consequence to pay.
Fast-forward several years, I am now married with a young son, and one evening at 3am the police show up at my front door asking if I knew the people living at my parents house. My mom and step dad. I verified, they asked a few questions and then asked me to join them at the police department. This is when time stopped. I heard the words, we think your step-father "took your mom's life."
Not many understand, but even with the grief, pain, sometimes anger, I also had peace. Peace that she didn't have to go through it any longer. She couldn't leave him, somehow she still loved him. And her feelings kept her with him through all of the nightmares.
I forgave him. I forgave her.
The state criminal justice system applied the maximum penalty within the next 3 years. Our mom is in Heaven. We are not sure if he ever found the path.
There are now five of us siblings. We are all forever impacted by what we lived through and what they did not. Every day we choose to live the life our mom had always hoped for. Each day we choose to try and make this world a better place, for our families, neighbors, and strangers.
I am thankful to have found peace in faith in Jesus Christ. It's real. And it doesn't mean I still don't have tough days every now and then. But through all of it I can see the free will we have and to make the most of the short time we have together.
I grew up in a single parent home with two sisters. Our dad chose to live on his own before I could remember.
Mom worked two and sometimes three jobs to make ends meet. She loved us kids and of course we drove her crazy. One of my favorite memories is when our grandmother drove by to check on us after school and caught us jumping from the roof of our home, we were practicing our stunt-roll technique of course. No one truly understood except us kids.
Fast-forward to when our mom shared with us that we would have a new dad and she would be married in June. It sounded good since he was around and bought us bikes and gifts for birthdays.
What we didn't know is this new man, our now step-dad carried a wound, a black-hole of a void from not growing up with a dad of his own. We quickly learned when stress increased so did drinking alcohol and drug use.
80% of the time things were peaceful at home, we were provided for, and everyone seemed happy, 20% of the time it was a nightmare. I recall evenings when he would come home drunk afterwork yelling that dinner was not ready or the house wasn't clean which escalated into physical abuse mostly toward our mom. This is one of the nights we kids had to jump out of the windows and ran to our neighbors to call for help.
Us kids were extremely careful to not get into trouble because the discipline was ten times in terms of pain and consequence then the mistake or behavior. One afternoon after arriving home from school, opening my bedroom door, I realized I forgot to take the trash to the curb again, this time it was poured onto my bed as a “I bet you won't forget next time” punishment.
Much of my away at college years, I would receive random phone calls from mom that she was "safe" at the women's shelter, I couldn't call her back, I couldn't come make sure she was ok. But that she wanted to let me know that he was at it again. I remember feeling helpless. Completely helpless. Even if I wanted to, If I tried to protect her, or take action against him I would also have a consequence to pay.
Fast-forward several years, I am now married with a young son, and one evening at 3am the police show up at my front door asking if I knew the people living at my parents house. My mom and step dad. I verified, they asked a few questions and then asked me to join them at the police department. This is when time stopped. I heard the words, we think your step-father "took your mom's life."
Not many understand, but even with the grief, pain, sometimes anger, I also had peace. Peace that she didn't have to go through it any longer. She couldn't leave him, somehow she still loved him. And her feelings kept her with him through all of the nightmares.
I forgave him. I forgave her.
The state criminal justice system applied the maximum penalty within the next 3 years. Our mom is in Heaven. We are not sure if he ever found the path.
There are now five of us siblings. We are all forever impacted by what we lived through and what they did not. Every day we choose to live the life our mom had always hoped for. Each day we choose to try and make this world a better place, for our families, neighbors, and strangers.
I am thankful to have found peace in faith in Jesus Christ. It's real. And it doesn't mean I still don't have tough days every now and then. But through all of it I can see the free will we have and to make the most of the short time we have together.
10/14/20
When I was little I survived a lot of harm by my father and other men. I was a child. My child brain did not have the ability to process what happened to me. I was not able to speak about the harm for almost two decades. I do not know how many times I have been physically or sexually abused. At every age there was abuse. When I started to use drugs and alcohol to numb the pain this lead me to worse abuse. People think that if you use drugs or alcohol that you are less of a human so they hurt you worse. It wasn't just the people who harmed me. It was also how people responded to the abuse. I was blamed for my own rape because I was drinking, using drugs, or at a certain house. It wasn't until I was finally brave enough to speak to another human about everything that happened to me that I could start to heal. It was important that I found a person who would not judge me. I found out that I am not alone. There are a lot of other people who have been raped many times. I also learned that it was never my fault. NEVER!!! This was so freeing to me. I thought that I must have done something to deserve what happened to me. Now I know that I am not broken. I am a whole person who deserves to live a wonderfully beautiful life free from violence and shame. The journey to recovery is lifelong but it has also given me some of the greatest gifts. I understand compassion. I am not judgmental. I know how to sit with someone's pain. I am not afraid of peoples pain. We who survive are a gift. Each story is a gift and every day is a new day to reclaim parts of ourselves that were stolen. Every time we share our story another survivor knows that they can heal and that none of us are EVER ALONE AGAIN!!!
When I was little I survived a lot of harm by my father and other men. I was a child. My child brain did not have the ability to process what happened to me. I was not able to speak about the harm for almost two decades. I do not know how many times I have been physically or sexually abused. At every age there was abuse. When I started to use drugs and alcohol to numb the pain this lead me to worse abuse. People think that if you use drugs or alcohol that you are less of a human so they hurt you worse. It wasn't just the people who harmed me. It was also how people responded to the abuse. I was blamed for my own rape because I was drinking, using drugs, or at a certain house. It wasn't until I was finally brave enough to speak to another human about everything that happened to me that I could start to heal. It was important that I found a person who would not judge me. I found out that I am not alone. There are a lot of other people who have been raped many times. I also learned that it was never my fault. NEVER!!! This was so freeing to me. I thought that I must have done something to deserve what happened to me. Now I know that I am not broken. I am a whole person who deserves to live a wonderfully beautiful life free from violence and shame. The journey to recovery is lifelong but it has also given me some of the greatest gifts. I understand compassion. I am not judgmental. I know how to sit with someone's pain. I am not afraid of peoples pain. We who survive are a gift. Each story is a gift and every day is a new day to reclaim parts of ourselves that were stolen. Every time we share our story another survivor knows that they can heal and that none of us are EVER ALONE AGAIN!!!