Indigo Ravenwood
Every step I took up the stairs to work, I wanted to scream from the pain in my back, in my sides. I bit my lip hard enough to hold the scream in, but savage enough to start it bleeding. I was hoping to beat my boss in the door this morning, give myself a chance to look in the mirror and assess the damage to my face and body. My luck ran out — apparently the night before, he was on the other side of the door when I put my key in the lock. He had seen me coming up the stairs from the window.
“What the hell happened to you?” he asked.
“It’s a long story,” I said. “I’m early, let me get cleaned up and I’ll be ready for work in fifteen minutes.”
“You need to call the cops,” he replied. “It’s gone too far this time.”
I ignored him. I was in too much pain to hear the rest of his words. I looked in the mirror in the bathroom; at least now I understood the look on his face.
I wasn’t sure if the gash across my head would need stitches or not. I was pretty sure my ribs were broken yet again. A single tear slipped down my face. He was right, it was enough. I had a piece of paper in my hand that a friend had slipped me the night before, when he’d begged me to call the number, begged me not to go home. I went out to the office and asked my boss to please call the number for me. (I am now deaf, but back then I could still somewhat hear people talking close up, I just didn’t have enough hearing for phone calls.) The S.O.S shelter listened to my boss describe how I looked over the phone. They wanted to send a cop to pick me up that very minute. Stubborn me said no, it’s Friday, pick me up after work, amongst protest from my boss. (It wasn’t the first time I had worked through extreme pain.)
I can’t describe the feeling of being put in a cop car when you’re the victim. It’s embarrassing, humiliating. Needless to say, it was a necessary evil. You weren’t allowed to come straight to the shelter. It was for your protection as well as all the other women who where already there. They couldn’t take a chance someone would follow me there. Inside the shelter I was asked numerous questions, and a nurse was brought in to examine me. Later, I would see a doctor. I learned a long time ago, the expression on someone else’s face says it all. I was only 100 lbs, 5’1, petite. While I was questioned they noticed traces of bruises peeking out along my collar bone. The nurse asked if I would please take off my sweater. I heard the gasp before I saw her face. It was bad. I was literally black and blue from my collar bone down my chest, the entire length of my arms. There were bruises inside my legs, my knees were bloody and cut up along with my elbows. I think women who are abused get so used to seeing their bodies in that beaten down look, they begin to not notice the bruises, even the pain.
I already knew inside I wasn’t going to stay there. There was that lone wolf, cornered aspect of me that wouldn’t let me stay there for any kind of help for long. I stayed holed up in my room in the shelter for that entire weekend. They didn’t want to push me and tried to give me my own space. I went back to work Monday and on my break I called the guilty party at work. I made it clear that just based on the photos they took of me at the shelter they could put him away for a long time. I told him you have one week to get the hell out of the apartment. If you’re gone I won’t press charges. (Years later, I should’ve, would’ve, could’ve… but at that moment I just wanted home again.)
I avoided the counselors at the shelter. I worked long hours, came in just before the curfew, went to bed. Mid-week I told them of my intentions, that I was leaving that Saturday. They were not happy but I wasn’t a prisoner. One of the night counselors caught up with me the night before I left. She asked if I would give her a few hours. After all, they had given me shelter when I needed it. I didn’t say anything. I let her talk. Inside I think I was dying hearing the words she spoke, knowing the truth but not wanting to admit it for all the pride I had. One of the things she said was, “Maybe not right now, but sooner or later you’re going to end up back with him.” I laughed. Yeah, right, after this I doubt it.
I returned home to find Hell waited for me. Everything I owned was tossed or broken in the middle of the floor. All the electrical cords were removed from the back of my stereo, TV, you name it the cord was missing. Every sharp object was taken (I guess he feared I would miss him so much, I would commit suicide.) The kitchen was turned upside down. He even went so far as to steal the shower head. I walked into my bedroom. All my clothes were torn and piled in the middle of the floor, the mattress was pulled off the frame and tossed against the wall. There wasn’t a curtain left hanging or anywhere around in the entire apartment. I put towels over my bedroom window, pushed the mattress into the middle of the room, curled up in a ball and cried myself to sleep.
For me, materialistic things were easily replaced. It took me an entire week to bring some sense of order to my home. A week later, I just managed to put up my Christmas tree and fill it underneath with presents for my daughter. When she came to see me, she had no idea what had gone down. I knew the routine, I had followed through so often in my life. I didn’t bat an eyelash while I enjoyed the holiday with her, my bruises hidden. A month later he was back.
Some part of me knew something was wrong with this picture. All along the counselor’s words echoed in my mind. The second chance almost cost me my life… that’s a story for another day.
*
Today you were introduced to a world that far more woman live than you realize. No, they don’t ask for that world. Sometimes they just don’t know how to escape and when they do, they find themselves lost not knowing how to cope in a world of sane normals. We each have different reasons that can’t be explained unless you have lived that life. I was one of the fortunate ones, I escaped eventually. Far more lose their lives without knowing a day without a beating. Today, I’m an outspoken advocate against domestic violence. If my voice joins another and so on, sooner or later there will be enough help that more women escape this life. Sometimes all it takes is one woman’s story to open the eyes of another to the danger she may be living.
If you hear your neighbors screaming and punches being thrown, windows breaking, doors slamming… Please for the sake of these women and their children make the call to the police they don’t know how to make. If you see a woman with a bruised face, don’t be afraid to approach her and say it doesn’t have to be this way. I carry my local S.O.S phone number on me to pass on as it was once passed on to me. Do I think I’m better than these women because I escaped? Not at all, I’m one of the few lucky ones; I don’t want to open the paper or turn on the news one more day to hear about one more unlucky life being wasted away for a beating. It’s real, it happens! Every minute that passes by another woman or child will have been beaten. Today, I’m a survivor… one more story told, one more demon put to rest.
Addendum: This story was printed on an early journal I used to keep. As I re-read over these words to double check for errors, I felt sucker punched — I couldn’t breath. I still wonder how the hell I survived the horrors I did, it still takes my breath away; I still feel each bruise and wound inflicted on me all these years later. My only salvation is knowing my story just might save someone else. It’s the only thing that makes the telling possible. From my spirit to yours, stay safe and loved!
***
Indigo Ravenwood blogs at Scream Quietly.
56 Responses to “Indigo Ravenwood”
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I’m without words.
Thank you so much for sharing your story.
I think there are many women out there who can relate to your story. I’m one of them, though I wasn’t the one covered in bruises.
You have an incredible source of power within you. Glad that you found it and can use it to help others. It’s all pretty surreal once it isn’t happening anymore, isn’t it?
Here’s hoping that your source of hell ends up exactly there, Hell. (If not on earth, then in the next life.)
Kudos to you for finding that strength. Hugs to you for sharing it.
wow.
i’m glad you got out.
thank you for sharing.
you deserve all the healing in the world…hope you find it.
Thank you for sharing your story. I hope that you are able to return and tell part two. ou’re obviously very brave, strong. A survivor.
Powerful story, and you’re right – we can’t know how hard it is to rise up from being repeatedly beaten down. I’m so glad you did, though- I also believe it can make a difference to tell your story outloud, that it might help another victim to become a survivor.
Peace to you-
Wow. I was so moved by your words. Thank you for sharing this part of your story.
thank you. I just submitted my story yesterday and felt the same as you… sucker punched…. I too cant believe where I am now compared to then.
Your words touched me deeply… thank you so much.
I can’t think of anything to say other than I am so very sorry to hear what happened to you.
Thank you for sharing your story. I called the cops for a neighbor once, who had sought refuge in my apartment, but she hid from them when they came to the door and refused to do anything. I was just sad for her because she felt so trapped and helpless, but also felt bad for her husband. But if she had come back I would have kept calling for her!
My heart goes out to you!
HUGZ!
Indigo, Bless you for your sharing. By living as an example of someone who stepped out of the victim role and became a victor – and a champion for others, you are helping to change the world.
Yesterday I saw a woman at my church with what looked like the remaining bruises from 2 black eyes…but maybe just “bags under her eyes”. Her face haunts me. I’m trying to think how to approach the situation.
It’s hard for most people, I think, to comprehend this kind of savagery. I know it’s hard for me. Even seeing it firsthand — though not quite to this degree — I reach a point where my mind simply won’t handle it all.
Sounds a little like maybe you’re still second guessing yourself. Wondering if you did the right things at the right time, should you have done something sooner, or done something differently. Maybe not — I hope not — but just in case, you should know that there’s no “right” way to get through this kind of thing. And it doesn’t matter how you got out, it just matters that you did, and that you have the guts to bring this message to others in the same circumstances.
I admire the strength you showed in the face of the violence, but even more I admire the strength you’re showing now in laying yourself bare for all the world to see so that somebody else doesn’t have to suffer the way you did.
You’ve also brought out a point I hadn’t considered — at least consciously — before. Getting out means coping with the “normal” world. And that “normal” is as alien to these victims as their world is to those outside it. And “alien” is by its very nature scary. Hard to imagine that anyone would be more frightened of life outside an abusive relationship than life in one, but it probably seems like “better the devil you know”. For someone who knows someone that needs that final bit of encouragement to get out, that’s an important understanding to have.
Thank you for putting another underscore under the theme I’ve always felt was the basis for this site. “You are not alone. And you don’t have to live this way.” And thank you for helping the rest of us understand the dynamic just a bit better.
hi beautiful. so glad to see you sharing your story here. you are such an amazing inspiration and i’m so grateful our paths have crossed in this virtual world. you always help me to remember to know myself, love what i see, fix what’s broken and stay true. so thank you.
xoxo ~krista
Thank you for having the courage to share your story.
Thank you so much for speaking out. How hard it must have been but thank goodness for the bravery and courage you summoned up! We expect the most from the most beaten down, and I think you just helped a lot of people by telling them to get involved and help those not in a position to help themselves. So glad you shared! Blessings to you!!
wow. thank you for sharing your story. it was like re-living my childhood, through my mother’s eyes. it still stings.
It’s a privilege to be addressed by such a courageous, strong spirit.
Stories like yours build up my hope for humanity and tear it down all at once…
As long as there’s the strength that you’ve shown, and as long as we can keep on spreading the word and the compassion that all people deserve, there’s a little bit of hope out there.
It doesn’t have to be like this, it never does. Thank you so much for living, for being, and for doing all you can in the hope that, some day, no one need ever fear leaving the mockery of a human relationship that leads to such horror.
Thank you…
Hi Sweetie~ I often wondered what brought you to be an advocate of the abused. Now I know and feel very prividiged to know you.
Thank you for sharing your story.
Thank you for being brave enough to share your story.
Hello Indigo,
The one thing I have learned with my age..is that I will NEVER stand by and do nothing if I think someone is being abused. If they can’t use their own voice, I will be that voice for them.. Something a few people didn’t do for me when I was the one being abused.
I’ll see you back over at blogger,
Hugs, Sheri
one more story told, one more demon put to rest.
yes. and amen.
and thanks.
Such a powerful story – thank you so much for sharing it. Your strength is apparent in your writing. While you ARE one of the lucky ones, remember to give yourself some credit for taking the chance to get out that luck presented to you.
I’m so proud of you. I’ve been waiting for this entry. You are incredible. I cannot wait to watch you soar even more than you do now.
Lots of love,
xo
This story gives me hope that every time I hand out a number to a shelter, it really will help someone. I’m sorry to hear about the horror you had to go through, but I’m happy you were able to get out and survive. It is brave of you to speak out. Thank you for all you do.
I remember reading this from your journal the last time around. I’ve just read it again. I don’t know what it is that can drive a person into such a rage as to be so destructive of property and person, although I know it happens. Maybe the victims return to hell because they think it will somehow magically improve, or because it’s safer than facing the unknown alone. But this new journal should be providing a healing for those who need it and it should be read by everyone, even those who have never had such an experience in their lives. Your courage is remarkable.
Love you. DB
I’m blown away. We know, whether or not we want to admit it or can even talk about it, we all know that this goes on day in, day out for women all over. But to read it so starkly is just breathtaking, and not in a good way. Saying I’m glad you got out seems inconsequential, but it wasn’t inconsequential for you, so please let me say how extremely glad I am.
I’ve never known anyone that I could say with any certainty lived in this kind of situation, or anything remotely like it. But I’m going to get that number and put it in my book, because sadly, the odds are the one day I certainly will.
Thank you for sharing this with us. Your courage is extraordinary.
indigo, your body and spirit are a shrine. it hurts me to know what happened to you but i’ll use it to open my eyes.
erin
Thank you for sharing your story. I envy you the chance you had at the shelter…had I ever been given THAT chance…
the violence will always be a part of you, but you have found a way to make it something you now have power over.
Indigo,
I’m so glad your voice was also heard on this website. Loud and clear. Your strength to leave, to make it out has now transfered into power in sharing.
I think for those that have suffered as you did, this part of the healing, in sharing, is important.
Well shared my friend,
Rebecca
I’ve found your weblog by way of Mimi….
it is a profound story you tell. I can not imagine the strength it must take to put it all out there…well done.
Hi Indigo,
It’s just shocking … horrifying. Thank God you survived.
Best,
Marty
I can only shake my head in wonder and humility. This takes a lot to share, and man, you are one strong person.
Indigo,
I have tears in my eyes for you. I’m sorry you had to endure this in life. It’s not fair. I was in an abusive relationship for 2 1/2 years, and I still have moments where I think of it (10 years later) and think how I almost didn’t survive that time in my life.
Yaya
I hope with each retelling and each re-reading you dissolve a little piece of the horror. So many humans suffer each day. It leaves me speechless.
You are doing very important work here! We need to create awareness about this topic. Thank-you!
I am ashamed that I share an organ with the bastard that did the things to you he did. What I don’t understand is why, and how, one person can do such horrible things to another. It is totally beyond me.
Indigo, I’m very sorry that this happened. I can only imagine the pain to your emotions and spirit. I don’t understand why we do the things that we do to each other, other than the sickness and self-hatred that gets out of control. I’ve never experienced such violence. But I know that there were times when I could feel a rage in me when my wife and I would argue during her drinking years. That feeling of rage was frightening. Thanks for telling your story. I hope that those who have suffered such abuse will get help and those who are abusive will get help as well.
Indigo,
I trust that your courage in retelling the story of your abuse will encourage women in a similar position, and empower them to take the steps necessary to reach safety. You are a powerful writer – and it can save lives.
Hugs to you my friend, I know your pain and am so glad you are a survivor like me.
Sweetheart, I am so sorry. You are beautiful and brave, and I wish I could throw my arms around you. Thank you for the courage you have shown in sharing this, in living this. Your story is important, and I believe your telling it will do so much good.
You are so incredible and brave. Thank you.
I admire you so very much.
Thank you for sharing, and for helping me to understand, a tiny little bit more, why people might go back… “when they do, they find themselves lost not knowing how to cope in a world of sane normals”. I am glad that you are out, and safe. Take care.
Indigo. I remember the first time I read this I cried and again today. I am so happy you are out of that terrible situation.
Standing on my chair to look bigger screaming ” I am here, I anm over here and I hear you!”
Break the silence is a start a huge start and every sister should scream the same…NO MORE! NOT NOW NOT EVER…and walk to the nearest support.
My case divorce…but I walked!
Hugs
TJ
I read this post a few days ago and was struck completely speechless. I didn’t know what to say then and I don’t know what to say now. All I can say is that I’m so very happy to hear that you got out of there and that you survived to tell your story. Thank you.
Indigo, what horrible things you have been through and survived. Every time I read someones horror story here, I am shocked that one human being can do these things to another. And honestly I am lost for words. Stay safe and peace to you.
There are not words adequate enough to express the strength of emotions in your story. You are amazing. Thank you so much for sharing.
You never know how bad things are until you look back on those dark days. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for sharing. It is hard to relive the past, but what you are doing is surely helping other victims of abuse to get out and to heal. I commend your bravery to tell your story.
Indigo, even though I knew a little of this ahead of time, I wasn’t prepared. Not at all. My god. I’m so glad you are safe now. I know it could have gone another way, so easily.
You are so brave, so strong, and thank you for telling your story here.
Love to you.
Speechless