Not a happy day

It’s one of those topics people don’t like to hear about. It’s a subject that takes people out of their spheres of comfort. I’ve noted that discomfort on this blog a time or two. Silence speaks more loudly than words. But I don’t mind stirring the pot once in a while. And so, I’m going to do it again. Because life up and smacked me in the face this morning and I like to share.

My phone rang this morning and I let the answering machine pick it up. From the speaker on the answering machine came a cry so primal that it turned my blood cold and launched the lad out of his seat from the next room. If you’ve ever had the experience of hearing a small animal caught in the wild by a predator, you’re halfway to recognizing the sound.

We’re talking about spousal abuse. The kind where fists meet flesh. And where the psyche is so damaged that the pain almost feels good because you know you’re still alive to meet another day.

She has done all the right things. He is an ex-spouse. She has tried to pick up the pieces in her life and she was doing pretty well, despite set backs. And then he busted into her house and beat the snot out of her. She called the police, they came, he left in handcuffs to be held in the county jail for the mandatory three days for the cooling off period.

So, you’d imagine, she’d feel relieved. But you’d imagine wrong. The cry on the phone was, “What have I done? It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have called the police. I didn’t want him to go to jail. I just wanted him to stop. He’ll kill me.”

Her agony stemmed from what she did to him. What he did to her wasn’t the issue. Your first inclination might be to wonder what the hell is wrong with her for even caring what he thinks after what he did to her.

But, it’s a common reaction and one that most people really do not understand. Unless you take some time think about it. It’s one of the reactions that makes spousal abuse so hard to fight.

For the last six years, I’ve been an active volunteer with the local Crisis Center and I’ve worked with abused children and spouses. I’ve spent many, many hours with the hot line, taking calls from battered women—and a few men. I’ve listened and listened and listened. And listened some more. I’ve arranged emergency shelter. I’ve helped the battered women and men devise safety plans and contact lists. I’ve helped battered men and women devise escape plans. I’ve spent a lot of hours talking to police officers who are in the middle of a crisis situation who need resources and need them right now. I’ve heard real life stories that even TV and movie script writers haven’t imagined.

And yet, invariably, when an abused spouse takes action to stop the abuse and the police become involved, the first reaction is, “What have I done? It’s my fault. If I hadn’t done this, this, or that, he/she wouldn’t have hit me.” Often I hear, “I love him/her. I didn’t want him/her to go to jail. He will kill me.” It is strikingly bizarre to hear someone with a broken jaw and two black eyes say something like that. But the last statement is not rhetorical.

But that’s part of the insidious nature of domestic violence. It’s not just physical. There is a huge element of social isolation and emotional warfare that has gone on far longer than the physical abuse. By the time the physical abuse begins in earnest, the battered spouse is really no different than a hostage in a hostage situation. There is a complex web of dependence, interdependence, and fear.

Perhaps you’ve heard about the Stockholm Syndrome, in which hostages begin to relate to their captors and, when rescued, will often defend or even refuse to testify against their captors. Why do they do this? Well, when a captive (and an abused spouse is a captive in most significant ways) fears for his safety and/or life, he intuitively understands that ‘making nice’ with the captor is a chance for survival. It is in his best interest to protect and even empathize with the captor’s struggle against authority. Most abusive spouses have periods of kindness and display loving behavior, which tends to bind their captive spouses more closely to them. Why? Because it is a thin reed of hope. Maybe they’re reaching this monster and maybe s/he’s changing. Until the abuse happens again. And again. But hope does spring eternal. It’s a life line.

Leaving is dangerous. Rescue is dangerous. Someone who doesn’t have the slightest hesitation to beat you within an inch of your life will probably kill you at some point. The question is whether s/he’ll do it before or after you escape. It is when the abuser has lost control over his/her spouse and there is not much left to lose—in the abuser’s opinion—that the danger level increases exponentially. When you read about entire families being the victims of murder/suicide you can be pretty sure you’re reading about a family where a batterer lost control.

When we read about women (we don’t read much about men for obvious societal reasons) who keep going back to their batterers, we often sneer at their stupidity. Think again, though. Fear doesn’t stop, nor does the Stockholm Syndrome, simply because the battered spouse has left the building. The devil you know is often safer than the one you don’t.

Or, put another way, when you live with a batterer, you generally know what to expect. When you’ve made the heroic decision to leave, you don’t know what’s around the next corner or how the next attack will come—whether through the back door with a shotgun or being run off the road some dark night or being strangled in your sleep or finding your children kidnapped or...use your imagination. Leaving isn’t for the faint hearted.

And yet, even when the battered spouse leaves, there are still ties that bind and old patterns that haven’t had time to be broken. Being beaten and emotionally manipulated are a pattern and the emotional responses are also part of the established pattern. You’re not thinking clearly when you’re being assaulted, nor in the hazy pain filled aftermath. You’re on auto pilot and the established pattern is to protect the batterer because it is safer for you to do so. Far more difficult to combat are the genuine feelings of affection or love for the batterer that were the basis for the relationship in the first place.

Too often, in the batterer’s mind, abuse is a test. If there are no consequences, that means loyalty and the batterer still has the illusion of control, even if the spouse doesn’t live in the same house. There are as many permutations to this as there are abused and abusive people. It’s never simple. It’s never safe. It’s always pain filled. And it is always frustrating and emotionally draining for friends and family members. There are no easy solutions or fixes.

Especially when society looks at the battered spouse as somehow deserving of the abuse if s/he doesn’t leave (or goes back) or if s/he shows any indication of sympathy/empathy/support for the abuser. Especially when there are still too many butthead judges who still think wives are chattel and states pass laws where even abused spouses have to attend marriage counseling before a divorce can be granted, restraining orders notwithstanding. Especially when cops don’t have the *will or the resources to enforce restraining orders. It just ain’t that simple.

My phone call this morning was personal. It reminded me, again, that being personally involved is a whole lot different than the emotional distance I maintain with the Crisis Center work. And I had to check myself for the unbidden thought: “What is wrong with you for defending him? For God’s sake, look what he did to you!”

I needed to explain to myself, again, (and to you) why that is a tragically wrong reaction. In that situation, the best response is “It’s not your fault. It’s really not your fault. Do you need anything? Do you need a safe place to stay?” And then keep your mouth shut and listen. And listen. And listen some more. Pass no judgment. If you haven’t lived it, you cannot possibly understand the complicated web of emotions. But listening and repeating, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t deserve this. No one deserves to be hurt. No one has the right to hurt you.” go a long way and plant seeds that will eventually sprout. Safety and security can happen. But it takes time and a hell of a lot of planning. Patience. I am not patient. I want it fixed now.

I took her out for a three margarita dinner tonight. It didn’t solve her problems, but it was a reprieve...a respite. It was not a happy day, but we do the best we can and hope like hell that she and others like her don’t end up as another dead statistic tomorrow or the next day or the day after.

*This is no reflection on police in my town who have worked tirelessly with the Crisis Center to learn about spousal abuse (and rape) and how to respond. They take it seriously and they are committed with special units devoted to the issue of domestic violence and rape. They are terrific, sensitive, and an example of what police departments can do if they want to!