A victim no more

It was a stormy California summer night, torrents of rain coming down when a man in my recovery from addiction came up to me and related his story of being homeless and having no place to stay.

He had long hair and beard and tattered clothes and a backpack.

The rescuer in me felt compassion for him and said, “You can stay at my home until the storm is over, but if you steal from me, drink or use, you’re out.”

He stayed for three years.

Once he shaved and put on clean clothes he was physically transformed. He was my “Nick Nolte — Down and Out in Beverly Hills!”

I was newly in recovery from alcohol addiction and in my first year of meetings, learning about my disease.

My mentor in sobriety suggested, among many things, not to have a relationship in my first years, that I needed to put my focus on my recovery, and relationships are a big part of relapse.

Well, if you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.

I always romanticized my relationships, dressing them up as something they weren’t. I lived in a Hollywood movie in my head.

I thought he had great potential if he only stayed sober and I showed him what real love was and my delicious home cooking. He’d get a job and we’d live happily ever after in sobriety.

I was always the type to people-please and stay, no matter what. I could handle anything. Love me, love me, but don’t leave me. I’ll be anything you want me to be, but please don’t go.

Three years of bringing him to over 10 recovery homes, returning him to live homeless in the end, breaking into my home multiple times, calls in the middle of the night, pleading to take him back — and of course, one more time I took him back.

I always thought, if I just loved him enough, he’d change and start loving himself and we’d then be like a normal couple.

I saw him through relapse after relapse, but the abuse got worse. One day he was Satan speaking in tongues and another he was God. His verbal and spiritual abuse took a toll on me, but I thought, “He hasn’t hit me yet.”

The “yet” was here. I had changed the locks on my door for the third time. I was in my nightgown, talking to my mentor, when out of the corner of my eye I saw the bed rising in my bedroom, him underneath, with the bed on his back and roaring like an animal, throwing the bed off his back. He rushed to grab me, dragged me to the kitchen and grabbed a butcher knife out of the drawer. He held it to my throat and said, “If you’re leaving me, we’re both going to die!”

After pleading with him I finally escaped from his grasp and ran to the nearest house. They took me in and called the police. The police said he carved up his own arm up and passed out.

My mentor had always told me, “If you don’t get out of that relationship, you’ll die. We all know of his past. He’s a dangerous man and he uses women and can’t do life on his own.”

We don’t know how to have a healthy loving relationship until we learn to love ourselves. Two wounded people do not make a whole; you still have two wounded people — you become whole by healing and loving yourself.

After five years of his stalking me, me moving over eight times, many restraining orders and court appearances, he died of his disease of alcoholism. I went into recovery for domestic violence and later became an advocate for others.

I no longer ignore the signs of abuse.

Control of my beliefs, faith, time, phone calls, who I talked to — friends, family, my recovery.

Tried to strip me of my self-esteem, saying, “No one will ever love you like me.”

Trying to keep me from any outside interests.

Lived in fear of my life, children’s safety — they were grown and lived in area

4B. STALKING/hiding in wait.

Demeaning me in recovery, putting me down for getting restraining orders.

5B. Sexual abuse

Trying to convince me to commit suicide with him or relapse with him.

Today I no longer am held hostage or hold hostages. I live in faith and recovery.

I also thank God for Safe Passage and their domestic violence counselors. Their counsel gave me the direction I needed.

I also thank the Church of Truth in Coeur d’Alene, which is accepting of all faiths and beliefs.

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The author of this testimonial is a Coeur d’Alene resident who asked that her name be withheld.