After a great night out with the girls, we headed back home. I can still remember, like it was yesterday, how heavy the air felt in the car. The silence caused me to nearly tremble. He then broke the thick silence and asked, "So, did you have fun tonight?" The smug sarcasm was obvious. I quietly answered, "yes, it was okay." And inside I was shouting, "Yes, yes, I had a blast! I was away from you. Yes, I felt free and I felt safe." Then suddenly I sprung back to reality by the weight of his fist across my face. The force was so powerful I cracked the passenger side window. I couldn't do anything but cry, the pain in my head, the pain in my face, and the pain in my heart. Everything hurt so bad. By the time we got to our apartment, my eye had swelled close. I remember crying, wondering how I would hide this from the family at my mom's engagement party the next day. 

The following morning as I got ready, I remember, although I didn't have a relationship with God, I began to talk to Him. I asked him why was he letting me go through this, and help me to have the strength to leave. I had never left, because I didn't want to have a broken family, but for the first time in my life I feared that one day he would kill me. 

Days later after the engagement party, I had a meeting to attend. So as usual I added my extra concealer and donned my shades to hide the swollen bruised eye. The meeting was going well and as I got up to exit the room, the woman grabbed my hand and said, 

"Honey, you know you can get help for that. You don't have to live like this. I can get you help." 

I looked at her and said, "oh no, this is not what you think. I had a crazy weekend with the family, that's all." As I walked away, I felt so numb. I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. What had happened to me? I didn't recognize who I was anymore. At that moment I knew I couldn't do it anymore. I went home and began to plan my "getaway." I called the local Battered Women's Shelter to get information. Finally, I called my sister Noelia and told her everything I had been going through for the past six years. She said for me to leave with my children and stay with her.

Later on that day we had dinner at my moms. I couldn't eat or think straight as I mentally finalized my plan for freedom. Since he had been drinking I knew what kind of night I was in for. Not today. Not ever again.

As we approached the apartment he got out of the car and slammed the door. As soon as I noticed he was a few feet away, I jumped in the drivers seat locked the doors, started the ignition and and sped away. My adrenaline was sky high, and I remember feeling happiness, and fear all at once. Why was I still scared? I was finally free. My kids and I can finally live a normal life.

When you have endured years of abuse and finally manage to escape it, the world is new to you. You just haven't been beaten physically, but psychologically and emotionally as well. You don't know where to start. Just because you have escaped the situation, you haven't escaped the fear. 

The next days were terrifying. Every time I would look out the window he was there, parked , just waiting. I realized I hadn't escaped anything! I was still living in fear and refused to remain that way! I had to stand up and speak out.

One quiet afternoon as I sat on the couch in my sister's home writing down my goals and next steps to take for my safety, I was interrupted by a loud noise coming from the basement. It was the sound of a window breaking. I jumped up and looked out, and seen my ex's car parked, but he wasn't in there. I began to panic as I heard him in the basement trying to open the first bottom door. Terrified, I called my sister and then 911. As soon as the police officers arrived my ex had broken through the door and was standing right in front of me. I could smell the alcohol seeping through his pores. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked completely discombobulated. He ran out as soon as he heard the siren, but was stopped by the cops and handcuffed. At that moment I felt the fear subside. I felt empowered. This was it. It was finally over!

I will never forget my conversation with the first officer that arrived. He told me I was lucky, because who knows what his plans were for me today. He then asked me if I wanted to press charges and I said yes. He began to tell me my next steps, like getting a restraining order and handed me a list of resources. His next words would forever leave a stamp on my mind. 

"I really hope you follow through with this ma'am. Today you were lucky, but next time you may not be. Many women say they will leave, but most of the time they return to that life. Especially when this is their first time leaving."

Not, sure what it was about those words that affected me so much, but I knew I wanted to live and I also wanted to prove I was serious—I didn't want that life for me. And sure, not many women left "for good" the first time, but I would be one of those women that did. 

I didn't have a relationship with Christ during this time, but I know that He was there all along. I know that he had a purpose for my life even then as broken as I was. I had a story to tell. And because of that I am thankful for it all. 

Love doesn't have to hurt, and shouldn't. 
The Bible explains to us what real true love is in 1 Corinthians 13:4-8:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 
It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

If you are where I was, please know that God hears you. He sees your tears, your bruises, your fears and He wants to rescue you. You feel alone, but you aren't. He is there waiting for you to let Him in and restore you. Let Him give you life once more and experience true love. Love that is kind and gentle. A love that protects, not hurts. He knows you and your faults and still wants to use you. 

He is there. When you've run out of options, he is there. When you think all hope is gone, he is there. 

Friend, realize this today: God has you covered. When you're stuck in a dark place, thirsty for someone who cares, drowning in despair—God is with you. He covers you with his hands of hope, protection, support. Rest in his all-encompassing love today. 


Let him wipe away your silent tears. 

According to the NDVH:

• More than three women are murdered by their husbands or boyfriends every day.
• 1 out of 3 women around the world has been beaten, coerced into sex or otherwise abused during her lifetime.
• 3 out of 4 (74%) people personally know someone who is or has been a victim of domestic violence.
  

October is Domestic Violence Awareness month, and I thought this would be the perfect time to share my story as a victim of domestic violence for six years. 

Domestic violence can be defined as a pattern of behavior in any relationship that is used to gain or maintain power and control over an intimate partner.

Abuse is physical, sexual, emotional, economic or psychological actions or threats of actions that influence another person. This includes any behaviors that frighten, intimidate, terrorize, manipulate, hurt, humiliate, blame, injure or wound someone.

Domestic violence can happen to anyone of any race, age, sexual orientation, religion or gender. It can happen to couples who are married, living together or who are dating. Domestic violence affects people of all socioeconomic backgrounds and education levels. - National Domestic Violence Hotline

When I look back on my life, I can tell you that the emotional abuse started at a young age for me. I came from a broken, fatherless home. My mother worked hard to raise us the best she could in somewhat of a Catholic home. 

My stepfather came into our lives when I was about seven years old. I still remember the feeling of disappointment as he and my mother stood in our living room telling us he would be moving in. Since my father had left us, it always had been just my mom, me and my sister Noelia. This was a HUGE pill to swallow. 

As weeks, then months, and years went by, I grew to love my stepfather and eventually he filled the void that my real father had left. We did a lot of things together and I remember always sitting on his lap watching T.V. and playing. It was what every little girl wanted, naturally.

I'm not quite sure at what point he and my mother discussed having a child together, but they did and had my baby sister when I was 10 years old. From that day on, my life as I knew it, would change.

Although only 15, it wasn't long before I noticed that arguments always happened when my mother wasn't around. He would eavesdrop on my phone calls, or disconnect the phone from the wall entirely. And let me not forget the many times the phones (even my little sisters toys) were thrown at me. I knew he had a drinking problem, and I just tried my hardest to keep my distance. The day I realized he really didn't think much of me was during an argument he had with my mom, where I overheard him tell her, "she is not my daughter, and all she does is ruin your life, she needs to leave or I will!" I remember my mom apologizing to him for my behavior and at that moment I felt alone, and hurt. So at the young age of 15, I left home and raised myself. 

I had my first child at 17, and my son was born when I was 21. In my mind, I thought I had found my one true love—the greatest man on earth! What I didn't know was that, I would be marrying a man who would be my worst nightmare.
 
If you asked me today, were their warning signs or red flags before I married him. YES! But, I just thought he loved me so much and didn't want to lose me. You, see I had never experienced a father's love or a man's love, so how was I to know that this was NOT love?

Like most, women in abusive relationships, it began with aggressive arguments, then moved on to pushing and shoving. Eventually the first blow landed on my jaw. I remember one night, while living in Mississippi, he was very drunk and angry that I had refused to have sex with him. He pulled me by my hair and dragged me off the bed and all the way to the kitchen. He began to accuse me of cheating and wanting someone else. I heard my 5 year old daughter crying in bed and I yelled for her to lock her door. I ran out the front door to try and get help, but felt his clammy hands grip my arms as as he flung me across the car. All I remember was looking up at the neighbors, just staring as if we were giving an award winning drama performance. They stood, silent as I yelled for help. No one moved. His family would tell me to avoid making him angry so that I "wouldn't ask for it."

The following days were greeted with flowers and apologies, not knowing that this was even worse than the physical abuse itself. It left me numb, and at times asking myself, "what did I do to make him so mad?" 

For the next three years I endured the abuse and became a professional at hiding the physical bruises (although he made sure to leave marks where no one else could see) and emotional ones. But inside I cried out for help. After a few years we decided to move back home to Illinois. I was so excited to be around my family. I had felt so alone for years and now I could be around other people and maybe, just maybe he wouldn't hit me if my family was around. Boy, was I wrong! The abuse continued, and even became worse. There were nights I was too tired to fight that I would lay still as he drunkenly forced himself on me. This would go on for months. . .

I never really shared the abuse with my mom or anyone else in my family. My family always had the, "that kind of stuff doesn't happen in our family" attitude. I remember one evening  going to the movies to watch Enough starring Jennifer Lopez. She played a battered wife who takes justice into her own hands. I can recall leaving the theater feeling brave and courageous. I had a new strength and for the first time in my life, I started plotting how I would leave. This time I knew I would have to leave for good or I may die.

One day my aunt asked if I wanted to go out with her and a few friends. I was too terrified to even ask permission, yet he overheard our conversation and shockingly, pushed me to go. It scared me, but since he was best friends with my aunts boyfriend, they made plans to hang out together.

I don't think I ever felt so good, so happy on the dance floor. I felt like a prisoner that had been set free into civilization for a few hours. As the night died down and we headed back to her place, my stomach began to flutter with worry and dreadful fear; a feeling I was all too familiar with. . . .

A few months back, I started watching this show called "Unfaithful: Stories of Betrayal" where couples have dealt with infidelity in their marriages. The thing I like about this show, is that the each of them tells their story on how they reached to that fateful moment, that caused them to do the unimaginable to their spouse. And the spouse, that was cheated on, shares their story on how the affair affected them, their family, and marriage. Aside from the fact that some of the "reenactment" scenes can be a bit raunchy, the show displays the grace that is extended to begin the healing process and mending the marriage. Yesterday I watched an episode that took a different turn. This time the marriage could not be repaired! 

“But I told the truth!” Through her sobs it was clear that she understood how wrong she was in what she’d done. She’d broken the trust of her husband yet again with another affair. This one she’d managed to keep hidden for the past 5 years. “I’ll never do it again!” she promised, pleading with him to not follow through with the separation. “I told the truth! Why won’t you believe me?” In spite of her pleading, her husband had had enough of her lies. She had violated his trust one too many times and this time she lost him for good.Unfortunately, this scenario is played out in numerous venues and relationships far too often. I know first hand! People who have done something wrong, finally get caught, “tell the truth” after a litany of lies and then are shocked that there are still consequences for their choices.

Some Christians will often respond with indignation, “Why won’t he just forgive her? He needs to show her grace! Jesus came to demonstrate truth and grace (John 1:14) and so should he.”

Somehow this distorted idea has crept into our present value system. What idea? That once I confess to the truth of what I’ve done, that all painful consequences should magically melt away like the dew in the morning sunlight because I “fessed up.” The rationale goes something like this:  “After all, we are to be gracious and forgiving of one another as Christians.” Sounds good. Right?

Sorry. While that may sound biblical, it’s not. A biblical understanding of Truth and Grace is that grace doesn’t exempt us from the consequences or our foolish choices. Grace means we don’t throw someone away and brand them as worthless.

Forgiveness can be offered to us when we finally confess to what we’ve done, but what we must also accept is that we may still lose our job, our marriage, our home, our children, our reputation and our friends because of our choices.

After my husband's affair I prayed for the Lord to help me to forgive my husband. I wasn't even sure if I would ever want him back, but I knew that I still loved him and more importantly Jesus loved him. So everyday I prayed faithfully for my husband. I remember sending him a short message one morning and simply saying "I forgive you and I pray for you daily." Less than 2 weeks later he decided it was only right to return home, but admitted that he wasn't sure we could ever get past this. Heck! I wasn't sure we could get past this. I remember finally getting on my knees and asking God, "If I forgive my husband for what He did, but not reconcile with Him, will my relationship with You be ok?" At that moment I realized that when I forgave my husband it did not mean I had to return to him, but I owed it to God to at least try and fix it. I remember the Lord telling me "How many times have I forgiven you, but cut you out of my life?" NEVER! But the Lord had a purpose for all of this and I wanted to find out. However, my husband knew that although we were back together, things would never be the same and he would have to deal with the repercussions of his affair.

So what I'm trying to say is that telling the truth doesn’t exempt us from the painful consequences of the truth being known.