Trigger warning: While this is not meant to be a gruesome post, just apply virtually every trigger warning imaginable here. It ends on a positive note and a call to action.

I was seventeen when he proposed. Shy and unsure by nature, bullied by adults around me to accept, knowing I didn’t love him, but unable to trust the screaming in my gut because of the harassment around me to accept… I married him.

In the 22 years of less than blissful wedlock I discovered his temper, his addictions, his continual lies, the dramatic episodes he used to divert attention away from punishment when his misdeeds threatened to damage his reputation, his infidelities, his astronomical sexual deviance, and so much more. And when he decided I wasn’t what he wanted he dare not stain his churchgoing reputation with a divorce, so he hatched a plan to quietly end my life in a way that could not be traced to him. I knew it. He knew it. There was no secret that if he had his way, my days were very shortly numbered.

I don’t blame the people he convinced that I was the problem. He was convincing. He could cry on cue and in order to maintain some semblance of sanity, I had learned to bury my feelings and keep external composure when all hell was breaking loose.

But then they learned the truth. They learned I was having convulsive seizures on the floor from extreme stress and trauma. They found out about his intentions, and his addictions and his lies. They learned that I was not allowed to have any hobby or existence outside of serving his immediate needs. And they were appalled. But the thing that appalled them the most was when I suggested divorce or tried to speak out against abuse in general.

“You can’t say things like that.”

“No one needs to know these things.”

“You are embarrassing your family.”

Phone calls from irate family members flooded in moments after I posted anything online other than rainbows and fairy tales. Those closest to me wouldn’t even hear the word “divorce” spoken. They called it the D word and were horrified when anyone alluded to the idea. Apparently divorce was a more diabolical crime than attempted murder, child pornography, and leading the police with their helicopters and dogs on wild chases through the Southern Arizona desert. Those who knew informed me that I was the reason he was doing these things. That I hadn’t given him enough affection, attention and the like. That his infidelities were my fault. That victims of domestic abuse aren’t victims but bring it upon themselves. And while they were spending their time cornering and silencing me, young children were being groomed and harassed by him. Ultimately, I’m sure you will be gratified to know, he ended up losing everything. His family, his home, his money, his influence, even his state of residence. He handed me divorce papers, fled the copper state and disappeared. God is good.

My point is this.

Abuse thrives when silence reigns. We are turning society around in a tremendous way for the better and it is glorious but we aren’t there yet. When someone comes to us and confides abusive behavior, often we tell them to work it out quietly and not rock the boat. But my friends, when people are being harmed and the perpetrator is running free, my humble advice is to flip the whole damn boat over and sink it. We can be a part of the solution, and together we can create an atmosphere where domestic abuse has no power. We all want to give people the benefit of the doubt. We all want to extend compassion and gently help people change for the better. I’m an absolute believer in helping others change and one of the goals of my life is to continue to improve and bring others up with me. But it’s not morally wrong to allow continually harmful people to feel the consequences of their actions. It’s not wrong to help someone escape unsafe situations. It isn’t a crime of nature to help the victim be safe first, and then helping the perpetrator to change their lives second. We can do it.

And to those who have experienced these kinds of things, I hear you. I see you. You are valued. You are special. There is hope. I pray for you and I plead that heaven grant you the same kind of freedom and earthly salvation it has extended to me. Miracles happen. Get out if you can. If you can’t, pray. Pray hard, pray constantly and expect direction from heaven. Whatever your aggressor may say, God is on your side. Not theirs. I promise you that, and I promise you that one day, in this life or the next, justice will be fully served.