Updated: Aug. 22, 2015
Originally Published: Sep. 30, 2010
“I’ll never abandon you,” I murmured to my son as I gently placed him back in his crib. “I don’t know how, but I will get us out of this—somehow, I promise.” This vow had become my nightly ritual since the day he was born, just as it had been for his older sister and for myself for as long as I could remember.
Yet, this promise felt like a cruel joke, broken by a marriage I felt powerless to escape. Trapped in a cycle of abuse, financial dependency, and a disheartening lack of support, I was ensnared. The legal system was a foreign language to me, and I felt the weight of my responsibilities to my two children pressing down like a heavy blanket.
Many mornings, I found myself staring blankly at my reflection. Who was that person looking back at me? The hope and dreams I once had were eclipsed by pain and despair. “Surely that’s not me,” I thought, as my eyes settled on the bruise encircling my eye. I had aspirations for my life and my children’s lives, but the mirror only showed a hollow shell of who I could have been.
“I’ll just leave him,” I would contemplate. “We can go to a shelter; they’ll keep us safe.” But then the harsh reality would settle in: “Safe until what? Until my husband’s lawyer fights for custody? I can’t afford an attorney, and the legal system doesn’t always recognize domestic abuse as a factor in custody battles.”
Research had shown me that 70% of women in my situation lose custody simply because they can’t afford legal representation (American Judges Council). I could never leave my children behind; I had to protect them.
Even if I managed to escape with my kids, the next steps loomed ominously. The local shelter only offered six weeks of housing, and then what? I would still be financially tied to him and unable to secure daycare assistance. How could I work if I had no one to care for my little ones? My savings had been depleted, and I was drowning in debt; I had nothing to fall back on.
What options did I really have? Leave without my children or take them and risk not being able to feed or shelter them? So, I stayed. I set aside my own needs, as many mothers do, and focused on providing for my kids in the only way I knew how—I sacrificed myself.
As I stood over my son’s crib that night, gazing down at one of the few remnants of my life, I had no inkling of how to overcome the ruins that surrounded me. Eventually, I crossed paths with a compassionate attorney who understood my plight and reminded me that to have a future, I had to break free from my past.
“I can’t afford to leave this life behind,” I confessed. Despite my financial struggles, he fought for my family and me, and ultimately, he helped us secure a brighter future. Thanks to his unwavering support, I emerged from the ashes of my former life.
Reflecting on my journey, I often wonder, “What makes me so special? Why do I deserve this second chance more than the countless other women still trapped in toxic lives?” The truth is, nothing makes me more worthy than them—except that I was fortunate enough to have someone see my potential beyond my financial circumstances.
Every woman is deserving of a life free from abuse, and we must do more to support them. If a woman is fighting for her life, she shouldn’t have to do it alone. October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month, and while numerous shelters and resources exist for women in need, we must remember there’s still so much more to be done.
Take a moment to think about those women who are striving not only to be the mothers they aspire to be but are simply fighting for their very lives. Everyone deserves a chance at a future.