I met him in 1996, when I was 6 months away from my 20th birthday. He had jazz band practice across the hall from the auditorium where I was stage managing the college's production of Bye Bye Birdie.
He was nice, funny, cute, artistic and understood my love of theater. We were both seeing other people at the time and so we were just friends who shared Microbiology notes.
During the summer, we exchanged letters while I was in Michigan, working at the world's worst ice cream shop (it's now a parking lot - which is fitting on so many levels) and he was at home in a suburb of Albany.
In September, I went back to college as an RA in a dorm near his. I stopped by his room to say hi. The next day, we went to a concert at the gym. About halfway through, his hand found mine and we were inseparable from then on. He broke up with his girlfriend (in hindsight, that should have been my first warning sign) and we were an official couple.
We both graduated the following May. He had plans to go to another SUNY school in the fall, waaaaaay up in Northern New York. I decided to abandon my plans of going to Michigan State and followed him up there.
We lived together in an off-campus apartment with two other friends from our old school. Our relationship was starting to deteriorate, but I don't think I even realized it. I remember lots of discussions about how I had changed and how he wanted the old Erin back. He proposed to me on Valentine's Day in a Red Lobster. Then he took me to see a movie. What did we see? Fools Rush In. Hello Red Flag! Nice to meet you!
After two years in the deep-freeze of Northern NY, we graduated and made plans to move to Philadelphia so I could pursue a degree in Pharmacy. We spent the summer living in his bedroom at his parent's house in Albany. I worked at an Eckerd Pharmacy and he worked as a laborer for the town.
He used his computer a lot to talk online with someone he met in a chat room. Her name was Cheryl and she seemed OK, but I didn't totally understand what was happening. I had my head in the sand pretty deep.
After we moved to Philadelphia, things quickly spiraled out of control. Cheryl came to visit, then moved in and he told me that he didn't love me anymore. He would yell at me for the slightest things. Cheryl joined in frequently, usually berating me because I didn't clean the bathroom exactly as she felt it should be done or because I *gasp* went into my room to study instead of doing chores. I remember him waking me up in the middle of the night, just to yell at me about something.
Those days were awful. I remember feeling incredibly trapped. I didn't know what I had done to get myself into such a situation and I sure as hell didn't know how to get out. I was trying to keep it together at school, at work, at home and put on a good face for my parents, who were beside themselves with worry.
It all fell apart over money, of course. He wanted me to skip school and go get a loan of some kind (one of those easy, quick-fix loan deals that they send you in the mail). I told him that I couldn't skip school because I had an exam, but I would do it in the afternoon. He said something about how the money better be there the next day or there would be trouble. And I remember thinking, "Brace yourself."
I didn't get the loan. I got up that morning as though I was going to school. I packed a bag of things as quietly as I could. I remember taking my curling iron out of the bathroom, terrified that he was going to hear me.
And then I left. The relief I felt as I closed the door behind me was immeasurable.
But I was still terrified that he was going to come after me, that he was right behind me, angry that I was leaving.
(My heart is pounding just writing this)
I got in my car and went to a nearby gas station. I had no money, no gas, no food and I was scared out of my mind. I walked into the gas station and started sobbing. I am sure that I scared the lady behind the counter half to death. I managed to explain what was going on and she sat me down in a booth and had some of the regulars keep an eye on me to make sure no one would bother me. She then called my dad and he gave her his credit card number so that I could get some food and gas to get out of there.
I remember driving down the expressway toward school and looking at my engagement ring. I was so tempted to pitch it out the window. Instead, I took it off and put it in my ashtray. I went to school and went to the counselor's office. I had been working with her to deal with my crummy grades and depression (gee - I wonder why I was depressed?!). She helped me withdraw from school for medical reasons. I went and took the one exam I felt capable of passing and then called my cousin Erica.
She came and got me and brought me to her house to hide out until my parents could come get me. I don't think a 5-star resort could feel any more like an oasis than Erica's condo did on that afternoon. I took a nap, talked with my parents on the phone, talked with Erica and just relaxed.
My parents (all 4 of them) came down to Philadelphia the next day, December 10, 1999. I was supposed to go back to the apartment to pick some things up. Instead, he opened the door to six of us on the step (6=me, my 4 parents and a constable, who was there to help mediate (and maybe intimidate)).
We packed everything I had in the apartment, including dismantling a water bed, in less than 3 hours. And then we got on the road to come back home to NY.
The months following my departure from Philly were incredibly hard. I was an emotional wreck. I was incredibly ashamed that I had allowed someone to treat me that way. I was in debt up to my eyeballs; from school loans and credit card debt.
I started working for a large company in their tech support department in January and my first day a bunch of mentors came in to meet us. In that group was a cute, tall guy named Mike.
And the rest, as they say, is history....
OK, now for the shameless begging.
I am coming to you with my hand out, asking you to help me. My parents and I are going to walk a half-marathon in Lake Placid on June 15, 2008 (my 6th wedding anniversary, as it happens). We are walking to raise money for a charity called Safe Journey. They are a not-for-profit organization that provides assistance to survivors of domestic violence. They offer counseling, self-defense classes, advocacy for court and housing issues (did you know that many of the women who leave domestic violence situations are denied housing?), career assistance and mentoring and social activities.
My situation was slightly different in that I had a support structure able to get me out of the crisis situation and also help me get back on my feet. I wasn't legally bound to Butthead (as he will forever be known to my family) and leaving was less complicated. So many other women aren't that lucky.
Here's where you come in. Click on the button below and donate some money (please!) to support our walk and support Safe Journey.
100% of the money we raise will go directly to Safe Journey to help women get back on their feet after surviving domestic violence. Those who donate will get a button to put on their sidebar, proclaiming them to be awesome. Note: When you fill out your information, put a note in the Apartment/Suite field that says you are a blogger and I will email the button code to you.
Thank you for reading my story. Thank you in advance for donating. Thank you to my family and friends for getting me out of that situation and for putting up with the scars that linger. Thank you to Butthead for well, being a butthead and showing me what a bad relationship is so that I can appreciate the good one I have now all the more. Thank you to my Mikey for being my Mikey. ILY!
PS: Thank you , also, to Jenny from Absolutely Bananas for designing my pretty, pretty buttons.
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