Ms. Jackie's Story

“This is the day which the Lord has made; Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” These are the words that rang from my mom’s lips every Sunday morning at 6 am!  This is the source of security I grew up with, the Sovereignty of God; the care and support of loving parents; and the endearing, most times, relationships with my 3 siblings.  So, when I declare today that I am a survivor of Domestic Violence, it just doesn’t seem possible! How can a girl from a loving home, loving immediate family, loving extended family, caring church family, and a caring community end up as a victim of such a brutal crime?  Well, allow me to answer that for you…this is my story.

My abuser and I lived one street apart from each other in a little city in Texas.  We attended the same high school and frequented the same neighborhood ball areas where we became good friends.  Eventually, our friendship developed into a courtship.  Our courtship continued for approximately a year before he presented me with a “promise ring.”  That was popular back in the ’80s.

After some time had passed, I began to feel kind of smothered and started cutting back on the time we spent together.  He would call all the time and I kept making excuses not to see him, not really understanding why I felt the way I did. He ended up reaching out to one of our mutual friends and asked her to speak with me on his behalf.  I cannot remember everything she said, but the one thing that she did say that convinced me to continue my relationship with him was, “you promised him”.  At that point, I felt totally convicted that I was going back on my word, so I resumed the relationship. 

Right before he was preparing to go to college out of state, we found out we were expecting a baby. So, we got married and the athletic department at the University made all the necessary arrangements to help us get into the marriage housing on campus.  They also provided me with referrals for employment. Everything was going great until that very early morning when I was awakened by excruciating abdominal pains, I was in labor!  Unfortunately, I ended up delivering prematurely and our son did not survive.

After my recovery time, I was preparing to return to work and I was having a little difficulty buttoning my pants, so I decided to cut back on what I ate.  Well, one day I was getting ready to take a bite out of my peanut butter sandwich and he said, “Is that all you’re going to eat”?  I replied “yes”. The next thing I remember was this horrible blow to the side of my face. Peanut butter on my face and this burning heaviness spanning from my cheek to my ear.  I stood there in utter disbelief and shock!  I can’t recall the details of what I did next, but I’m almost certain I began packing to leave. But then he gave this tearful explanation for his actions and I felt sorry for him and stayed.  This was the first time he hit me.

For the next 4 ½ years the abuse continued.  It seemed I was waking up to abuse and going to bed to abuse.  The body shots were so bad I could barely get up to get ready for work somedays.  Once while we were living on campus, my abuser body-slammed me to the ground after I tried to run from him.  Someone called the UP, but I lied because I did not want him to get kicked off the team.

I can go on and on sharing countless incidents of abuse I endured at the hands of my abuser, including body punches, biting, choking, stabbing, kicking, head blows, brutal sexual assault and the list goes on.

However, I would like to focus on 3 separate experiences that I believe had the most devastating impact on my life emotionally, psychologically, and mentally.

My mother-in-law was the first one to witness her son abusing me.  She had come down for one of his football games and was staying overnight.  After the incident, I begged her to please let me go with her so she could drop me off at my parent’s home.  I guarantee you I must have gotten up before 6 am the next morning and she was already gone!  

The abuse continued and just seemed as if there was no end.  That is when I contemplated taking matters in my own hands, suicide.  Why should I continue to be tortured day after day? Why not just get it over quick, fast, and in a hurry?  I thank God for shielding and protecting me from that thought of desperation, at my own hands.

Not only did God protect me from myself, but he continually protected me from my abuser, especially when my abuser played Russian roulette with a .38 revolver against my head.  That was a turning point in my life like none other.  One of his teammates bravely interceded and distracted my abuser so I could run for my life. 

My life, that sounds amazing!  Please know that I did not get here alone.  I had coworkers and friends who supported me while I was in my abusive relationship.  The most crucial support I received was information.  Someone defined what I was experiencing and gave it a name.  That name was Domestic Violence and it is a crime.  Then a Faith House advocate shared an escape plan with me which initiated my journey to freedom.  Eventually, after several stalking incidents, I obtained a restraining order and filed for divorce. 

The path that I traveled riddled with abuse was not one of my choosing, but I truly believe that God had a purpose for my pain.  That purpose most assuredly includes using my voice to speak for those who are not yet able to speak for themselves. As well as to be transparent when sharing my testimony so that those who are still being victimized may have hope.