VOICES of Acadiana

(This piece is a continuation of part 1 of my story originally uploaded to the VOICES of Acadiana blog site on September 1, 2019.) I wish that I could say that leaving was easy.        It was not. I wish that I could say that staying away was without turmoil.      It was not. I quickly learned a well-known fact in the world of domestic violence: the most dangerous time for an abused woman is when she leaves the relationship . During the first two years after leaving, ·        He stalked me   ·        He threatened me ·        He damaged property ·        He controlled me through the children ·        He harassed me by telephone and text    ·        He forced his way into my home ·        He threatened suicide    ·        He threatened homicide ·        He pretended to call a hit man named “Ike” to ‘take care’ of me and my attorney During that time, I told the people in my inner circle that if anything happened to me, HE did it. In O

Our Story Part 2 Roxanne: 1/8/18: My supervisor called me saying that she needed to speak with me. Apparently, my ex had called the school board stating that I was having an affair during work hours. He was going to bring phone records to prove this. What he didn’t know was that I had taken time off from work to put my plan into motion so all the phone calls were not during work time but during time documented as off time. 1/9/18: A domestic violence detective accompanied me to the school board and explained the situation to them. They fully understood and warrants were issued for defamation of character. 1/10/18: He turned himself in. 1/18/18: Bond set at $20,000 for defamation charge. No bond set for breaking protective order:-). 3/23/18: Released from jail with an ankle monitoring device. Chelsea: 4/7/18: My dad was never one to go places, especially not festivals. Yet, he was seen at the Boudin Festival. He had an ankle monitoring device. How was he allowed to go to the fest

Our Story Part 1 Our names are Roxanne Martin and Chelsea LeBlanc and on November 29, 2017 our lives would be FOREVER changed! After months of secretly planning, I, Roxanne, was finally able to escape 30 years of domestic violence. No one knew of my plans!!! NO ONE!! No family members, friends, co-workers, not even my children knew of my plans. I knew it would come as a shock to everyone!!! You see, when you live with domestic violence you learn to pretend that things are normal. You don’t want people to know how unhappy you are and how crappy life can be. What I didn’t know when I pulled out of the driveway that morning, is that the deep psychological effects would be long-lasting for both myself and our daughter, Chelsea. And the nightmare didn’t end just because I didn’t live there any longer. Here is our story. Roxanne: I knew leaving him would put my life in danger. I knew this because I’d tried to leave numerous times over the 30 years we were together. When I would attemp

My name is Roxanne Martin and I’m a survivor of thirty years of domestic violence. I’m not quite sure when I actually realized that I was in an abusive relationship. I met my ex-husband in 1987. I quickly realized that there was something not quite right in our relationship. He didn’t  allow me to wear certain things and hated when I did things without him. Nothing much, but it did catch my attention (red flags). My ex-husband and his siblings often mentioned that during their childhood their own father has been verbally and physically abusive towards them and their mother. Their mother left with them many times, but the kids would always beg her to go back to him, and she would. Over the years, I witnessed first hand how verbally abusive my ex-father-in-law was.  In the beginning of our relationship, my ex-husband and I had been in numerous physical altercations. Most of my memories are of him choking me into unconsciousness. Others are of him slapping me so hard I got a bla

We were teenagers when we first met. The year was 1990, the first time I laid eyes on him was at a church youth group function. Set against the dusty rose carpet and wood paneling walls, he stood at the front of the church with his friends. He was wearing a mustard yellow and black shirt buttoned all the way up with dark Girbaud jeans. Hands in his pockets. Dark hair, hazel eyes, and a mischievous smile.  My first impression was that I didn’t like him. I should have trusted myself. I was born fourteen years earlier to a teenage mother who never completed high school. Her first marriage was extremely, physically abusive. I was in third grade when we made our strategic exit from his grip. She remarried when I was in fourth grade, but their initially strong emotional connection quickly faded away and for many years they essentially lived separate lives. My mother was a survivor. I learned from her. Just survive. Keep going. But I didn’t want to be like her… I came from a “broken”