The Willow Glen Resident

Point of View

Deborah Taylor-Hollis

Abuse victims need courage of others' convictions

I have the neatest new friend. She didn't exist three years ago. Back then, she was still married to an abusive, controlling, self-centered woman-hater, taking his punishment, living under his dangerous regulations. She was forced to go through labor at home, without help, even though her doctor had decided she needed a controlled cesarean delivery for her twins. At times, she had no phone, no money, and no ability to leave. She put up with his abuse, his control and his knack for conning everyone around them about what a great family man he was. She lived by his rules, with full support of their church, which continued to support him and demand that she learn to submit. That woman could not have been my friend. That woman would have scared me, made me angry, made me feel just as helpless. That woman would not even have been able to go out for coffee with me.

When that woman started changing, moving out from under him and getting a lawyer, she became the butterfly, showing her five kids that women can be in charge, that all men aren't predators and abusers, and that she could change her entire life. That's when I met her, about seven-eighths of the way through her metamorphosis.

She grew up here, just a few doors from me, and lived here right up until this spring, when she moved just far enough away that her ex couldn't park in front of the house all night "watching," couldn't come right into the back yard and stare at her through the living room windows, couldn't stalk her everywhere she went all day long while he neglected the business that was supposed to support his five kids. He still has that business--and he hasn't paid a dime in child support in over six months.

She was just another mom at the preschool to me, somebody I didn't know except on sight, a working face in the crowd. Then, one day, I saw this beauty frozen in fear, fighting back tears, and I did what my parents raised me to do. I walked up to her and said, "You look terrible. Come on outside and tell me about it." And, to her credit, she did. The old mom would have lied and hidden the problem, avoided opening up, downplayed the tragedy she was living--like how, even then, he was waiting right outside school to "follow her home" again, after a year of separation, after countless police visits, after several restraining orders. He acted like he belonged, and his church encouraged him to pursue his wife, ignoring their impending divorce. After all, they told him, that's man's law, not God's.

She told me what was going on, and I believed her. For her, that was surprise, even then, near the end. Usually, people didn't. They assumed she exaggerated, she was crazy, was "imaginative."

The police were skeptical, the church dogmatic and biased in favor of her mate, their friends incredulous and often dismissive. I believed her unless she was proven wrong, and I'm glad I did. I watched the nut case follow her daily, watched him load the kids into his car without child seats for the little ones, watched him hover and intrude. She didn't dare start fights in public, with the kids around. She wanted to protect them from the side of him they didn't see, and he always knew that when they were around, he had the upper hand.

Only two other close friends at school knew about this, but I pushed her to tell everyone in open meetings--to get out from under the shadow. And they believed her, too. While she oozed thought the legal system and hid from her stalker, we made calls, gave support and enjoyed this new woman coming into her own. She and I both took each other at face value that day, and I met a whole new person, one who keeps growing and getting better. Her two oldest kids, not yet in their teens, also have suffered major damage at the hands of her "first love," their father. We will help them grow up safer, more secure and better prepared to evaluate relationships than she was 12 years ago.

Why am I telling you this? Because, even though you may think all the people you know are "OK," even if you yourself don't live with the raging fear, you probably have someone in your circle who isn't all right, who's walking on eggshells because of their partner, their spouse, their lover. You can smile, make small talk and walk away. Or you can ask what's wrong and hope they have the patience to tell you the story and the courage to be honest. Then you can believe them. That will help more than anything else you will do. And another new person may be born. Another butterfly will soar.

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