Survivor reaches out to stranger
I was at the pool with my 10-year-old. She was swimming and playing with her friends, I was lounging on the deck reading a book. It was semi-crowded and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.
Except for one couple. She looked tired and defeated. He looked agitated and twitchy. As soon as I saw them I knew what kind of relationship they had. He proved it within five minutes.
The “show” started with him belligerently belittling her. He said she made him look like an idiot by disappearing into the bathroom while he was talking to her, making it appear as though he was talking to himself. She was jealous because he was watching the diving team practice on the other side of the pool. He’s been around that all his life, he should be able to watch girls in bikinis without her interference. She’s lucky he tolerates her, she probably just wants to go out right now and get drunk and high. She’s probably looking at her phone to see if her boyfriend called. “F” this. “F” that.
And on and on and on. For over two hours. And no one noticed but me.
Watching them sent me back almost ten years to a time when I lived with a man just like him. Insults were hurled daily, I was deprived of sleep while he raged in the middle of the night, and I looked at the floor any time we were in public so I wouldn’t be accused of “checking out” other men. I spent my entire existence during those days trying not to make waves, but there was always something that sent him over the edge.
I knew what that woman’s home life was like. I had lived it. I had escaped it. She hasn’t been that lucky. Yet.
As badly as I wanted to walk up to that man and give him a tongue lashing the likes of which he could only wish he’d ever be able pull off…I didn’t. I pretended not to notice, just like everyone else, all the while sifting through the options flying through my head that I could offer this lady to get her away from him.
Along with figuring out what to offer this woman I had to figure out how to slip the information to her without him noticing. One thing I know from experience is that outside “help” can, and many times will, result in physical violence towards the victim. The last thing I wanted to do was make more trouble for her.
While I was trying to come up with a plan she gathered up her things and walked into the locker room, which is also the exit. She was on her cell phone; I thought she called someone to come get her. I was disgusted with myself for not following her to make sure she was OK. I was disgusted with myself for not making him shut up and leave her alone. I was disgusted with myself because I did nothing.
I was so disgusted with myself that I called a friend of mine, who is also an abuse survivor. And she told me what I already knew. There’s nothing I could have done. There’s no law against acting like a jerk in public as long as nothing physical happens.
I went back to reading my book, trying to forget what I had witnessed. It wasn’t easy but I managed to get back into the story.
And then she came back. She had been gone for about 20 minutes. As soon as I saw her go back to her lounge chair I got up, went to the front desk, and asked for a piece of paper. I picked up the pen that was lying on the sign-in sheet and wrote down the number to the local domestic abuse hot line, the name of the agency that runs it, and that it’s staffed 24 hours a day. I folded it up into a tiny square, wrapping my fingers around it tightly and keeping it out of view.
I held on to that paper for an hour and a half. I sat on the steps at the shallow end of the pool, near the entrance to the restroom so I wouldn’t miss my opportunity to approach her before she left for the day.
When she finally got up to leave, following him across the pool deck, I got up and went into the restroom. I sat on a bench and waited for her to come through the door. When she entered I asked her if she was OK. She looked dazed and say that yes, she was fine, she would be fine. I stood up and approached her and handed her the paper square. She took it and looked at me questioningly.
“It’s a phone number,” I said. Then I walked back out to the pool to collect my daughter so we could go home. As she was toweling off and I was packing our stuff the woman came back to where I was standing.
“I’ll be OK with a lot of prayer,” she said.
“It’s not OK the way he treats you,” I said. “You don’t have to live like that. I know, I lived with someone just like him. I know what your life is like.”
She nodded and said, “Thanks for this. I’ll look into it tonight.” Then she walked away.
I still don’t feel great about what’s in store for her tonight. I wish I could have done more, but as it is I did everything I could possibly do; more than anyone else tried to do. Maybe she’ll use the hot line. Maybe she won’t. But as someone told me earlier tonight when I told the story: At least she knows that someone out there gives a damn.
***
Editor’s note: Many domestic violence shelters have materials with a DV hotline number printed on them. They are usually printed on something subtle, such as a pseudo lipstick tube or a nail file. This can be a way to reach out to someone you’re worried about without putting her or him in danger. Check with your local advocate office to see if any materials exist for you.
For more on what to do if you suspect abuse, read here. Also, October is National Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Read more here about what you can do to honor the cause.
24 Responses to “Survivor reaches out to stranger”
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This is what life experiences are ultimately about: Using them to envelop others in should they have need of embrace.
Good eye, kid.
God bless you! You did SOMETHING … the rest is up to her. But, you may have provided her just the kind of positive push she needed to help herself. That’s why people like you and sites like this matter so much.
Here’s hoping that she followed your lead.
It takes balls to be so forward, and I wish I had them. Many a time. I hope she is OK and will realize that there is another way of life. I also hope that she’s safe. Knowing you did all that you could do is the best comfort you can have.
By letting her know that you saw her pain, and understood, I’m sure, if nothing else, she felt less alone. And sometimes that can make all the difference in the world.
Just knowing someone cares is a seed that has been planted. It could be a first step towards escape and healing. Thank you for having the guts to do it.
As was said already – she now knows that she is not alone, and someone else cares enough to give her information she can use to help herself when she is ready. Thank you for showing you care.
I want to thank you on a very personal level for this story. Because it takes me back to a long-ago time when a 16-year-old kid had his first encounter with domestic violence. Only in 1976 we didn’t call it that yet. It hadn’t gotten its own official name. That 16-year-old kid in the A&P at midnight didn’t know what he was looking at, he just knew it wasn’t right. And he said as much to his buddy, apparently loud enough to be heard down the aisle by the asshat who’d just grabbed his girlfriend/wife/whatever by the arm and hissed at her to “shut.the.fuck.up!”
Confronted by a very angry cat who had probably 4 inches and 40 pounds on me, the list of options was short — and bad. So I took the one least likely to cause damage and stepped back from the fight. And for 33+ years I’ve been second-guessing that decision, disgusted that I didn’t do more — that I didn’t do anything.
Until I read the last line of your story here. And realized that if nothing else, at least she knew someone gave a damn. Even if that someone was a long-haired skinny kid in the grocery store at midnight that she’d never see again.
Maybe it made a difference, I’ll probably never know. I’ll always wonder… But because of your story, I can at least believe that she knew somebody cared.
Thanks for that. You have no idea, no idea.
as the child of a woman who was married to a man like this, i used to sit red with shame as my step-father hurled insults at my mother, at me, at anyone around him and i prayed so hard no one would say anything to him because it would just make him angrier. and then i would be filled with rage that everyone just ignored it and acted like his behavior was acceptable. it was a no win situation. if someone, ANYONE, had done what you had, so discreet, so sincere, i would like to think my mom would have maybe left earlier than she did.
you did a great thing.
I left a relationship just like this 3 1/2 weeks ago. I used to cry daily because I was so depressed, I have not cried in 3 weeks. Sometimes you just don’t realize that verbal abuse is still abuse, and in my opinion being on the receiving end of both physical and verbal/emotional abuse the emotional leaves more scars to overcome. I hope that she seeks help from someone. I hope that one day she will decide enough is enough and when she does she will know what it’s like to be free.
*shivers*
Because sometimes I am my sisters keeper. I am proud to know you.
I’m with the majority of commenters here – I think you did a brave thing, and the right thing. Whether she makes that call or not, at least she knows someone cares.
And I’m saying a little prayer that she makes that call and gets the hell out.
AND you did a service by educating us on how NOT to interfere and make things worse–even with the best of intentions.
You really thought this through. This might be her first step.
I wish someone had been there for me like this. I probably wouldn’t have listened, not at first, but in hindsight–it would have been so much more encouraging when I did finally get out, if only I thought that someone really cared… You did the best that you could have given the circumstances. I’m so glad that you didn’t confront him directly, my ex was like him and he’d have smiled at you, snarkily thanked you for your concern and later that night I’d have kissed the walls. You spoke from the soul, I hope she truly heard…
You’re my hero. Even if she stayed with him, she knows someone cares. If there were more people like you in the world there’d be less need for people like you.
You did an awesome thing. I admire you very much, you did a good thing. I deliver newspapers very early in the morning and as I fold and bag them, I work in a warehouse with other carriers. There is a man in his late 20s-early 30s who dated and lived with a 17-18 year old girl for a long time. I would listen tensely everyday as he belittled her, bullied her, told her to “give me a reason” as he raised his fist to punch her. I never had a chance to hand her the tiny piece of paper I’d written on with the info for our battered women’s shelter. He would never leave her unattended. One day recently she just stopped coming with him and I hope to God she left him. I hope to God he didn’t hurt her so badly that she can’t come for a while. I think of her everyday as I fold my papers. Now I will think of you too. Thank you for having the guts and the forethought to give this woman info about resources that could help her be free from her tormentor. Everyone deserves to be free. Susan
Thank you all so much for your comments. It’s so hard to know how to handle situations like this. When people hear my story, particularly men, they want to help the next person they see who needs it. Every time a man tells me about how he stepped in between a batterer and a victim (it happens more than I thought) and how good it made him feel to know he put a stop to that abusive moment I cringe because I know it’s highly probable that the woman he helped in a public parking lot suffered much, much more within the walls of her home later than she would have if the original scene had played out. That’s a horrible thought but it’s the truth. I know, I’ve been on the recieving end.
I never ran into this woman again but I like to think that even though she went home with that man and went through the process of trying to decide what to do she was at least able to envision her escape. I hope her subconscious formulated a plan that revealed itself to her in her dreams and gave her confidence to walk away.
I hope she’s in a quiet place, healing her broken spirit, and that she’ll eventually be able to pay it forward.
Maybe we’ve read, or will read, her story on this site.
That takes courage to tactfully step in. So many others would have just walked away – some judging, others just feeling helpless and afraid of making a bad situation worse.
I hope she uses the number.
I just want to say thank you. Thank you because I wish someone had reached out to me that way. I don’t know if I would have done anything if anyone had ever reached out. But just knowing that someone knew, someone cared, would have made a world of difference. So I thank you.
What you have done for this woman is awesome. One of the worst things that happens to us in these relationships is that we lose the sense of knowing something is wrong – we are confused, by the abuser who insists nothing is wrong, or we’re the ones who are crazy. When someone steps in and says “this is not right,” suddenly we can hear ourselves a little better. She may call right away, or not for a while, but she knows NOW that someone out there, someone objective, sees that something is wrong. That is a big piece of the puzzle.
You did such a good thing. And I hope she calls that number.
You did the right thing. In the end handing her that piece of paper was something more than you could ever know. That’s how it happened for me, A friend handed me a piece of paper with the local domestic shelter’s phone #. I held on to that single scrap of paper in the palm of my hand through the beating that came later, it was still in my hand the next morning when I called for help.
It would be another year before I left my abuser for good. But that call was the beginning to getting me closer to stepping outside the door of my abuse. These days I keep the number on multiple slips of paper in my own purse. For that day and chance I pass it on to someone else.
Thank you for this! (Hugs)Indigo
Congratulations to you for having the strength to do this for someone. I don’t know that I have had the courage to approach someone like that.
*hugs*
You did a really great thing.
[...] for this question. It reminds me of this recent post, in which the writer describes reaching out to a stranger after witnessing a verbally abusive [...]