by Band Back Together | Aug 4, 2014 | Abuse, Anger, Child Protective Services, Domestic Abuse, Fear, Help With Relationships, Romantic Relationships |
Last June, I left my husband with the children at the request of social services. As time went by, I began to go through the different stages of grief. First of all, I didn’t feel anything about the abuse that my husband had given me. Secondly, I felt grief, then I felt angry and blamed him for the fact that the children had been removed from my care and put in the care of my parents.
Then I felt unsure. Had what he’d done to me actually been abuse? Was the way I had reacted at times a case of domestic violence? After all, I did throw a cup of tea at him in the middle of an argument. Did that constitute abuse?
When I first left my husband, he telephoned me often to beg me to go back. He would cry about how sorry he was. Every time I saw him at meetings with social services, he would cling to me like a child who was petrified that his mother was going to abandon him. Later, he finally began to accept that we were separate and that I really didn’t want to go back. Then, social services told us that neither of us had any hope of getting our children back because they said that the volatility of our relationship had emotionally abused them. This is untrue. We cared for our children to the best of our ability, and loved them so much that it hurt.
The children’s social worker is beligerent and only wants to tear families apart rather than putting them together. My husband suggested that if we couldn’t have the children, we should at least have each other. I told him that I had to think about it before I decided what to do. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Maybe we should try again. He had changed a lot in the space of nine months. Maybe things could be better this time. We’d both learned so much about ourselves and each other.
At the end of March, I moved back in with my husband, much to the chagrin of social services. They made a point of mentioning it in their reports that it was a sign that we put our relationship before our children. But how can we care for our children if our relationship is fractured and broken? Surely, if we fix our relationship, we’ll be able to better care for the children. After all, one of the reasons they took the children away from us was because of our relationship problems.
I’ve been back now for two months, six weeks of which I spent on the sofa with a broken ankle. When I went to the emergency room with my broken leg, someone commented to me that my husband treated me like a princess. And do you know what? He has. He has spent the last six weeks waiting on me hand and foot, while also redecorating our new bedroom. He went out to buy me wine, gum, and chocolate whenever I asked him to. But …part of me is still thinking maybe he’ll change back. I know that my family is scared of that. When I broke my leg, my father asked me if I’d really fallen down stairs or if I’d been pushed by my husband.
I’m scared to have sex with my husband because I’m scared of being raped again. Maybe my husband has really changed this time, but maybe he hasn’t. I’m so scared that he will go back to the way he was. Maybe my fears are the consequence of our volatile relationship. I don’t know. What do you think?
by Band Back Together | Jul 16, 2014 | Anger, Child Abuse, Foster Care, How To Deal With A Self-Destructive Friend |
I’ve been having problems with my boyfriend (we are in our 40’s). He was brought up in foster care, abused by foster parents, and rejected by previous partners.
I read your article on self destructing behaviour and suddenly his anger all made sense. I now know how to cope with him, not only that, but help him overcome his lack of self worth. Thank you so much for helping!
by Band Back Together | Jul 8, 2014 | Anxiety, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Fear, Guilt, Helping Someone In An Abusive Relationship, Stress, Trauma |
Hi, I’m 22. I’ve been looking for something that might help the healing. I just found this site, and am glad there is something like this. It’s hard writing what happened. So here it goes. I was mentally/emotionally abused.
I don’t feel like a victim. It’s nothing like you see on TV where someone is bawling their eyes out with sudden realization. I’m just numb. Okay, I’m numb with random fits of bawling my eyes out for no reason, but still numb. Reading the other stories on here, I feel like mine was barely anything.
I was in a relationship with an abuser for two and a half years. It started out like any good relationship does, laughing and smiling. Then, his family disowned him for dating a white girl. After that, he would throw that at me to shut me up, if he perceived the smallest slight. That I was the reason for everything going bad, the fact that his family would never accept me. But it never stopped there. Daily, he called me fat, and ugly, and useless. There came a point when I believed all of that. I tried to weigh as little as I could so that maybe he would give me a small compliment. I tried to do everything perfect, even though it wasn’t enough. He would insult me in front of our friends (his friends, since all of my friends liked him better). I could never tell him no or go against his word without incurring his explosive anger. He would never show his anger in public though. He would wait until we were alone to let loose. He took all but two my friends. He’s a charismatic guy, and everyone likes him. How can people stay friends with an abuser when they KNOW? There came a point when I felt so alone and unwanted that I thought about suicide. The thing that kept me from it, the only thing, was the thought of my mom.
I almost left probably five times. Why didn’t I just leave the first time?
My mom saved me from this “relationship.” She’s a psychiatric nurse and recognized the signs. In her words, she told me that I didn’t laugh or sing anymore. In August, after he threatened me more than usual, she told me her suspicions. I told him that she didn’t like our relationship. (When his family disowned him, he made me promise that if my mom ever didn’t like our relationship then we would break up.) I used my mom as a scapegoat to get out – I wasn’t the one who ended it. Not really.
Now, months later, I still feel lost. I’m still afraid to make decisions. I still close up and try to fix everything whenever someone’s moody. I laugh again, but that’s all I’ve gained back of myself. I’m going to start therapy in a week, and I hope that helps. Does it take this long to heal? I just want to be myself again.
One thing that one of those two friends told me has really stuck. “How can you prove that someone hurt you when they left no visible mark?”
by Band Back Together | Jun 30, 2014 | Child Protective Services, Chronic Illness, Ehlers-Danos Syndrome, How To Help A Friend With Chronic Illness, Invisible Illness |
For many, becoming a parent is an inherent, indescribable experience that subconsciously transforms you into a fiercely protect caregiver. When your child becomes ill, your natural inclination is to seek medical attention and abide by the doctor’s orders. However, if the illness is caused by a complex medical condition, sometimes answers are not as easy to find. There comes a point in which, after numerous attempts to find the answer, the burden of proof appears to be placed upon the families or even the patient themselves.
With the embattled medical negligence case between the Pelletier family, Boston Children’s Hospital and Massachusetts Department of Child and Family Services (DCF), it brings to light the struggles of treating a complex and poorly understood medical condition, patient and family rights, and quality of life issues. I am not a medical expert, I am not a lawyer, and I do not know the Pelletier family. I am someone who struggles with a rare medical disorder, and thirty years ago I was Justina Pelletier.
In May of 1984, after numerous hospitalizations, tests, visits with specialists and multiple incidents of respiratory arrest, local doctors in collaboration with Boston Children’s Hospital were out of answers and filed a complaint against my parents with DCF. The complaint was based on unsubstantiated claims by someone who claimed to be an “acquaintance.” There was no home visit, no interview, not even a second opinion from an unaffiliated medical expert. My parents were accused of medical negligence even though they followed the advice of the pediatrician and the hospital’s attending physician.
Reading the report, I found it not only to be inflammatory but completely devoid of any factual evidence. There was no mediation or care plan developed between the hospital and my family, only threats echoed through the Department of Children and Family Services. When my father questioned the DCF case manager on the legitimacy of the accusations, her response was that she read the report and “just knew.” While I understand the intended purpose of these investigations is for the best interests of the child, that is not what happened with my family and it doesn’t appear to be the case for the Pelletier’s.
When you look at the Justina Pelletier case, it is mind-boggling; it feels like there has to be something more to the story that’s not being told. How could a world-renowned hospital and an agency dedicating to protecting children be responsible for the implied child abuse and child neglect? If you do not have firsthand experience, it’s hard to imagine. For my family and I however, we feel overwhelming compassion after every press release for Justina Pelletier.
Luckily in my case, my parents were able to reach an outside specialist who performed an emergency bronchoscopy – a procedure Children’s Hospital was capable of but failed to do – and located the source of my life-threatening respiratory distress. A rare structural birth defect called an “innominate artery” caused my aorta to cross over my trachea, crushing it, and in conjunction with a smaller lung defect would have cost me my life had my parents not pushed for more answers. Approximately one month following the DCF investigation, surpassing typical life expectancy for the defect, I had lifesaving cardiac surgery at Massachusetts Eye and Ear Infirmary, a world-renowned teaching and surgical facilities for disorders of the head, neck and chest. Had the Department of Children and Family prevailed, it would’ve killed me.
My health struggles did not end following the surgery. After twenty years of multiple surgeries, injuries, and complications, I was diagnosed with ehlers-danlos syndrome. The genetic specialists at Brigham and Women’s Hospital of Boston compared my medical history and, combined with my clinical presentation decided that I fit the profile for the hyper mobility sub-type of Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. My defective collagen and its systemic effects validated my experiences and helped me build a care plan with my team of specialists. In doing so, it helps ensure the best quality of life possible. Justina Pelletier and all patients with complex medical problems deserve this.
“Doctor shopping” is a term thrown around when a person seeks answers from multiple providers or alternate treatment. Being proactive and locating appropriate treatment is not doctor shopping. Complex medical conditions do not equate psychological imbalance or parental medical negligence.
Now that the state of Massachusetts has been granted permanent custody of fifteen-year old Justina, the irony is inescapable. If Justina’s condition is purely psychosomatic, as suggested by Boston Children’s Hospital, and her parents are to blame? Why does she continue to deteriorate whilst presenting with tangible physical symptoms? If her parents have not been permitted contact with her, surely there has to be a more logical answer. The fact of the matter is Justina Pelletier is being punished for being ill while the witch-hunt against her family plays out on a national platform.
My hope is that Justina is as fortunate as I was and receives the medical care she so desperately needs … before it’s too late.
by Band Back Together | Jun 26, 2014 | Abuse, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Helping Someone In An Abusive Relationship |
The worst part about watching someone make the same mistakes you did is knowing they need to make them in order to be enlightened.
I feel I am finally far enough removed from the toxicity of my previous relationship to see how unhealthy it really was.
I like to think this isn’t a reflection of my detest for him because of all he did to me, but rather a truer picture through the lens of hindsight of just how destructive he really was.
I don’t want to paint myself as a victim of abuse. The only marks he ever left on me were self inflicted, save the time he pushed me into a doorway while trying to move past my shaking frame as I tried to calm him down. He didn’t mean to. He never ever struck me, threw anything at me, or brandished a weapon. But words can be a weapons, too. And there were a handful of times I did fear for my life.
I learned early on in our relationship that he had a temper. Throughout the years, The years brought lessons such as “When he is in Rage Mode, there is no reasoning with him” “Try not to cry, because that will only make him yell more,” and “Do not ever, EVER bring up a touchy subject while he is driving.”
I made the latter mistake multiple times before I learned. The conversations would begin innocently enough, a petty argument or a heavy topic, but before I knew it he would be driving upwards to 90 miles per hour, screaming at the top of his lungs, telling me I “wasn’t just going to cry my way out of this” if I let on to my fear. Would he snap out of it this time, or would he slam on the brakes and tell me to get out of the car, miles from home?
That’s just it though, because eventually he would snap out of it. He’d go back to being the caring man I thought I had, drying my tears, apologizing for raising his voice, making sweet gestures “just because” in the weeks following his outburst. I would honestly say that about 75% of the time, he was a really good boyfriend. Fiance. And eventually, husband.
But the other 25% was a nightmare. He was volatile, moody, and I never knew what might set him off.
I recently told a close friend of mine that once you begin trying to convince yourself that the “good outweighs the bad”, there is clearly enough “bad” in the situation to warrant a second thought. That 75% of a relationship, (some weeks 60%, some days barely ten…) was something I rationalized that I could be happy in for the rest of my life. But like most things, I couldn’t see how much that 25% was sucking the life out of me until I finally hit a point of realization after things got worse than I ever imagined. And I was too busy defending him to heed the thoughts of close friends who knew I deserved better.
Friend, I wish I could save you the heartache, the fear, the oceans of tears, but I know I can’t drag you to the point of realization. You may be making the very mistakes I did, but I know you need to see that for yourself before you’ll take action toward the life you so deserve. But your true friends, your family, we all love you. Know that. And if you, like I did, fear that being alone is a worse fate than anything he could put you through, know that it’s not–you are more alone right now with him than you probably realize. The thing about enlightenment, though, is that it rarely comes as an epiphany. You’re probably not going to suddenly wake up one morning with the determination to leave. But eventually, I hope you’ll begin to form the necessary resolve.
And when you finally leap, don’t doubt for a second that there will be people who love you waiting with open arms to break your fall.
