Memories of Women....

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month.

I'm at a loss sometimes when I think back over my life and concerns of victims of domestic violence.  Did I do good?  Did I help?  Did I muddie the waters for some? Many of the women I worked with are at least 20 years older.  Are they still stuck, have they moved on, are they happy, have they passed away, do they have grandchildren.........

I don't remember many individual cases.  Just memories of a whole of shelter life, court dockets and support groups.  I believe God made me to be a helper.  I remember talking to a professor in college about my chosen career path, worrying that I'd not be able to separate work from private life.  But I rarely had a problem with it.  I could flip a switch after work.  Not that I didn't care when I left.  I often thought about situations I was dealing with or worried if a lady would have a tough evening when I left her.  But God created me with the ability to flip that switch in a maintenance way for my sanity.  And to keep safe from burnout.

Like I said.  I don't remember many specific cases.  But there are a few I'll never forget.  A few that left lasting memories.  I've never really shared stories of victims.  But I'll share a few here.  From the 90's.  Names and some details changed.





The first lady I remember that stirred emotion and tested my young college heart.  I was volunteering at a shelter during in 1990 and 1991 while attending Cleveland State Community College.  I loved it.  Right then I knew I wanted to be an advocate for victims.

This is where I met the first woman who tested my ability to flip the switch.  The switch did flip.  But my memory and heart remember.

The lady was at shelter for safety from an abusive husband.  She had no children.  I arrived the shelter after class one day to a frantic client.  You see, the lady was mentally ill.  Very.  And was in danger of hurting herself or others.

The case worker told me as I walked in the door what was happening and to keep the lady calm and appease her for a while till the police were there.  She ran to me and was screaming "Marna!  You have to help me Marna. They are going to take me away.  She went into her bedroom and was throwing clothing in a suitcase all the while saying "Marna, help me pack.  I have to get out of here.  You can't let them take me!  Marna they are going to take me away."  I was a wide eyed college girl with no idea of what to do to calm the situation.  I just told her to calm down and I'd help her pack.  As we were packing the police car pulled into the shelter drive.  The lady started screaming and running around.  Crying, pleading with me to not let her be taken away.  To just be let go.  Heart wrenching as the police officer had to physically put her in the cruiser.  All the while she was pleading for help.






The next memory that's stayed with me all these years was of an 83 year old woman.  We'll call her Edith.  Edith was old and crotchity and very, extremely crude in language and body.  Edith would come to the shelter every few months.  She was never going to leave the hateful old, good for nothing second husband who was about 10 years younger than she.  I think she just needed a break for a while and used shelter for that.  The husband was very manipulative with their children.  So such so that he had them convinced she had dementia.

Edith would tell stories in very crude ways of her life.  Life from as long as she remembered was abusive.  She talked of an uncle in the lake with her when she was small and sexual abuse from him and several other family members through the years.  She married in her late teens to a horrible man.  Somehow she got out of that marriage.  I don't remember how.  Then she married the fellow she had when we meet.  The reason she came to shelter this time:  It was winter and he had locked her on the porch in her night gown all night.  Pathetic loser of a man.

Edith was going to go home.  We knew that and understood and didn't want to distance ourself from her by saying you should do this   OR you should do that.  She knew what she needed and what she was willing to do.  Edith's husband had her grown children convinced that their mother was suffering from dementia.  They did not believe the allegations of abuse.  Poor ole Edith.  I remember her daughter calling the shelter and speaking with her mother.  Telling her to go home.

One morning she was ready and said such.  We loaded up her things in my car.  Edith was crude, remember.  And hard.  But on the way in my car to meet her husband at KMart Edith gripped the car door handle.  She kept saying, "whew", under her breath.  I was sick.

I pulled into the parking lot and she pointed to their car.  A tall slender old man got out and walked toward us.  Edith didn't say anything.  He was smiling this smile.  A smile that if you hadn't heard what a monster he was you'd think he was a decent man who loved and missed his wife.  He walked to Edith and put his arm around her shoulders and steered her toward their car.  I think I heard a "whew" a couple more times.  I carried her bag and put it at the trunk and turned to leave.  Edith was in the car by now.

As I got in my car he looked at me and said, "Monroe County, huh?"  He had looked at my car tag.  I looked him in the eye and sternly said "Yes sir.  Monroe County."  Then I turned to go.  We never heard from Edith again.  At least while I worked at the shelter.





Another happened one New Year's Eve.  I was on call and received a call from a sheriff's department about two counties away around three in the morning.  A lady needed shelter.   I worked part time for the shelter after college. $6.50 or $7.00 an hour.  No benefits.  No holidays (violence doesn't take a holiday or a sick day).  And I loved it.  So when I got the call New Year's Eve I had to go in.  But that was okay.  It's was my job.  My responsibility.

When I walked into the sheriff's department to pick her up the lady was drunker than cooter brown.  She was tall, blond, and toothless.  Her boyfriend had burned her false teeth that night.  Shelters are not equipped to service those with mental illness or drug/alcohol addictions.  So those were never allowed to stay.  However, this lady.  Well.  She was just drunk.  And pitiful.  And kinda funny.

She was fidgety all the way home and VERY talkative.  Drunken talkative.  She talked of her false teeth and kept saying "Mearna, can you believe he burned my teeth?"  She would then skip to another subject only to come back to the teeth issue. "I can't believe he burned my teeth. What kind of man burns a woman's teeth Mearna?  I can't afford another set......I don't know what I'm going to do.  I need teeth!"  I didn't know how to respond.  After all, what kind of man burns the teeth of the woman he supposedly "loves"?????

The shelter night and weekend staff did not work when the shelter was empty.  New Year's Eve there had been no residents.  So no night staff.  I remember finally getting the lady to bed about 5 in the morning.  I locked myself in the office and slept on the couch.  Surprisingly a peaceful sleep.  Peaceful because there was a relief that the man only burned her teeth and not her.






Another lady.  I don't remember much about her but I remember picking her up.  We never went to the homes of ladies without court order of protections and a police officer.  I had received an emergency call from and agency about a lady.  She then called me and we did a quick intake.  She didn't live with her abuser so I thought I'd run and pick her up.  Real quick like.  That is the only situation I can remember being really, really scared in.  It was a bad neighborhood.  I honestly felt I would be shot in the back at any moment.  And not particularly by him.  But by anyone going by.






One lady had been quite successful in leaving her spouse whom she had three children with.  They had both moved on with their lives.  He remarrying, she finding a good job.  I believe eight or nine months had went by.  Child exchange to this point had taken place in a public place.  The woman had gotten comfortable with the present and how well things were going.  One Friday she thought it would be okay to drop the kids off to her ex at his mother's house.  When she got there she stepped out of the car.  The guy jumped off the porch and ran over and broke her nose.  At support group that following Monday both her eyes were swollen and black.  Her poor nose crooked.  Just because you leave doesn't mean it ends.  Valuable lesson learned......





Mary.  We'll call her Mary.
Mary came to us and obviously had some type of personality disorder.  Those were quite frequent.  A 30 day stay is all the shelter could allow the women and children to stay.  That's not a lot of time to set a woman up in housing, figure out how to pay a deposit, turn on water and electricity, etc.  After she left we performed a lot of support, follow up services including a support group.

We were able to help her find public housing.  As I was helping her move her things into her new apartment two men were walking down the street.  They asked if they could help us move the things.  Mary was very mousey.  She scampered into the apartment.   I looked at them and said "No, we were fine and didn't need any help."  They asked again to which I responded with a more firm "No".

Following up with Mary she soon found a new man.  I wasn't surprised.  She was too afraid to be on her own.

That happens in many of relationships I'm afraid.  A lady in our area leaves her abusive husband and has to go into public housing or a not so desirable renting position.  Within a week or so she moves back home.  I guess a black eye for a white picket fence is a better trade off than being alone, afraid with a front yard of concrete.

When a lady came into the shelter I'd ask if she'd ever left before.  Since it takes an average eight times leaving for her to leave for good I pretty much knew she'd not be staying long with us.  So I worked with those clients in a different way.  We talked about safety planning for her and her children until the day when it would be possible for her to finish the process of leaving.  Not the event that had just happened.




I wasn't smart enough to become a doctor to save lives or a scientist to find a cure to end a disease.  I wasn't smart enough for a lot of things such as that which are so valuable to society.  I pray though that I was quick enough and level headed enough in stressful, in the moment minutes to help ladies make tough decisions to stay alive and help educate teens and young women to be careful to never end up like so many I had seen.