Introducing The Wonderful Project

The number one reason victims remain in relationships with their abusers:

They lack the financial knowledge and resources to break free.

The Wonderful Project hopes to transform the lives of survivors of domestic violence by helping them advance economically, emotionally, and socially.

You can help us achieve 501(C) status by donating now at:

https://www.fundraise.com/the-wonderful-project2/the-wonderful-project

For more information visit our website at:

www.thewonderfulproject.com

The Hypnotist

Am I really where I was in December 2010, when your physical abuse towards me escalated and my cry for help was answered?  As close to homelessness as death.  A face in the mirror I did not recognize.  Financially and emotionally dependent on you. Exhaused and confused, with nothing to look forward to.  Isolated from friends and family.  My only solace was you.  You had planned it that way--slowly and methodically. Twisted my mind and thoughts so I questioned myself and reality.  Doubting myself, my perceptions and beliefs.

You deceived everyone.  That is what you do best.  Hours upon hours I contemplated and tried to please you.  I didn't want to be like any of your ex's -Mary Ann, Crying Girl, Evanne, Stephanie, Danielle, Crazy Kirsten, Sophie, Lauren, Julie etc.

Your allies think the world of you just like I did.  You could turn on the charm, the kindness, the warmth, and the humour.  You mastered it all.  Mastery one of your favorite words.

You had me convinced I was the cause of your behavior and I needed to share the blame. I fell for your intensity.  I truly believed I was the only woman who could ever matter so much to you.  I went in with my eyes wide open.  As you aptly reminded me daily, my duty was to be by your side and focus on you.  I had no reason whatsoever to be depressed.

I took away your power.  That power you value so highly. The power you used to control me.  All the little games you played making me feel as if I was crazy.

Here I am today still standing.  Though the foundation may be weak and trembling.  I have gained strength.

My Secret Valentine

When I was just a young girl of 20, I fell madly passionately in love for the first time.  He was 9 years older than me--English born and bred.  We met by accident.  He played in a hugely popular 80's New Wave band and was in the midst of a world tour.

Romanian gypsy in his blood.  Handsome, intelligent, kind, gentle, funny, a creative genius.  We share the same November birth date.  It was a crazy,  intense love that physically made my heart beat faster. When we we were apart due to his work and we reunited it was as if no time had ever passed between us.  We started right where we left off.  Call it fate,  Call it destiny.  I've never publicly written about him or what we shared.  There were so many times I wished he had a different career--a doctor, a mechanic, anything but what he was.  I didn't love him for his fame or glory.  I simply loved him. 

Flash forward 27 years, the man is in the midst of a world tour promoting his new album, his first in over 18 years after a lengthy struggle with bipolar illness and a not so nice English press.  He is dangerously close...my heart tells me to take that short trip to see him.  But my head tells me no.  Out of fear I suppose.  FEAR--False Evidence Appearing Real.

Do I take that short trip west?  Take the risk to see him, to talk to him?  The city he is appearing in is the city where we met during a snowstorm on February 11, 1983,   It is not my hometown. It will be his first return to that place since that date. 

The Journey

Step by Step

There will come a day when you cease to exist in my world.  The mention of your name will no longer effect me on any level.

Only a couple years ago I remember clearly how you made me feel when I learned you were running an escort service out of your Manhattan apartment and you had Miss J living in that very apartment working as one of your escorts.  Little did I know she wasn't the first since you hadn't been faithful since day one.  I have copies of all the ads you placed on craigslist for those very escort services. Let's see you lie your way out of that!

Why is it that when men are unfaithful women blame themselves? We're too fat, too ugly, not sexy enough, too sexy.  We'll change, we'll diet, we will become what the other woman is to them.  We lose ourselves in the quest to please him.  How ridiculous is that?

Women competing against women for the attention and love of a man who is unworthy of that love.

Women competing against women for the sake of a career and climbing that career ladder.  Women judging other women on their decisions, their diets, their appearance, their children--instead of supporting each other.

We as women and humans are only one bad decision away from that woman, the one using food stamps to feed her family standing in line before you at the grocery store, that woman who we think we are so much better then.  We should be supporting each other not judging.

Breaking the Cycle

The other day I came home to find a Federal Express package on my door step.  And what should it be? Who could be sending me something in such a large box?

It was from my former boss at that non-profit agency where they claim to HELP people break the cycle of poverty, unless of course those needing help are employees.

When I opened the box I saw the remnants of my office, two years of my life thrown into a box along with an assortment of pens, a file folder, notebooks, hand lotions, pictures, inspirational plaques, and the miniature Eiffel Tower Christmas ornament I picked up at Target.  Of course things were missing including a personal fax machine and digital camera and why would they throw pens in the box?

My former supervisor is an expert at packaging former employees personal belongings.  She can throw people away like garbage.  Prior to my arrival she had gone through an excessively high number of employees who directly reported to her.  With a twenty year history at the agency, she is the longest standing person there. The CEO may think she is the CEO, but it is a mere title only.

"Whatever you need, we'll be there for you."

Not too many of my former colleagues have reached out to me since my departure. Perhaps they have come to the realization that they too can be disposed of, no matter how good and valuable they are as an employee or they may think they are.  It's all an illusion.  "Words are easy...words are cheap," to quote an Adam Ant song.

I guess it should not surprise me that people are willing to judge me on one misplaced action.  All those people who pretend they are better than everyone else.  The ones who tell little white lies on a daily basis--judging me? All the lies that come off the lips of the leadership team and board members, "We will support you totally."

It's laughable. What would they have done had they been in the exact same situation?  They might like to pretend they would have done something differently. I was desperate to end Prince Charming's PR campaign.  From day one, he always seemed to have more rights than I.

And I have to love the DA Investigator and all he talks about is the rape charge that was no billed.  Seems they totally forgot about the strangulation case and surprisingly photos of those very injuries have strangely disappeared.  Never presented to the original grand jury.  Missing.  Should I be at all surprised considering this is my local police department, the one with an extensive history of corruption. Good thing the officer wrote on the original police report where my physical injuries were and that they had taken photos of the said injuries.  The ER Doctor also documented the injuries extensively and mentioned the police had taken photos.

The body does NOT lie.



The Picture Tells the Story

Judgmental Women

An open letter to Maud Booth:

Those carrying on your legacy are doing so only in words not actions. Judging others such as myself harshly--all under the false umbrella of your name.  Working to break the cycle of poverty--laughable. Core values--meaningless. Fake, false pretenses. There are no limits to caring--unless of course you are an employee, or more aptly described as a member of the family by the CEO herself.

So much for being a gift to the agency.  "Whatever you need from us.  We will be there for you." More lies.  Instead they became judge and jury, found guilty without a trial. Imagine that Maud Booth! The Book of Liars all judgmental women. Superficialness in the first degree, the worst kind. Parading around as do-gooders feeding on gossip and contributing to that very gossip.  All the while claiming to be a faith based organization. Where in the Bible does the Book of Hypocrites exist?

My time there is just another chapter for this book.  Another lesson learned. Never take people at face value.  Sure thought I had already learned that lesson courtesy of Prince Charming, the man with no moral compass.

What Doesn't Kill You....

"Write what should not be forgotten.” 

― Isabel Allende

"What Doesn't Kill You (Stronger)"
From Kelly Clarkson

You know the bed feels warmer
Sleeping here alone
You know I dream in colour
And do the things I want

You think you got the best of me
Think you've had the last laugh
Bet you think that everything good is gone
Think you left me broken down
Think that I'd come running back
Baby you don't know me, cause you're dead wrong

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone
What doesn't kill you makes a fighter
Footsteps even lighter
Doesn't mean I'm over cause you're gone

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger
Just me, myself and I
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone

You heard that I was starting over with someone new
They told you I was moving on over you

You didn't think that I'd come back
I'd come back swinging
You try to break me, but you see

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone
What doesn't kill you makes a fighter
Footsteps even lighter
Doesn't mean I'm over cause you're gone

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger
Just me, myself and I
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone

Thanks to you I got a new thing started
Thanks to you I'm not the broken-hearted
Thanks to you I'm finally thinking about me
You know in the end the day you left was just my beginning
In the end...

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone
What doesn't kill you makes a fighter
Footsteps even lighter
Doesn't mean I'm over cause you're gone

[2x]
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger
Just me, myself and I
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone

(When I'm alone)

Masquerade

The other day I found myself missing you. It was St. Patrick's Day Weekend--which would have marked our "10th" anniversary of being together.  For a split second I thought of you.  I had a sense of missing you. But was it really you I was missing or was it the illusion of you? The visible marks of bruises you left are long gone but scars remain.

As fellow survivors know, that to be a survivor, first you must bleed.  You bleed all that is inside of you; the hurt, the pain, the memories, the fear, the wounds fusing together, the ties to what was in, all its forms.  You bleed not once but several times.  And when you are empty, you either fade into a shadow or find the strength and courage to live. When you stand up again, you are for a time, hollow-empty.  Then you fill yourself up with the new, you recreate yourself, you reform, you breathe again.  You don't have the same heart or mind.  The way you see the world is forever changed.

I remember looking at my shadow in the mirror, studying it, observing it, watching it,  sometimes talking to it, because it was all I knew.  My self-esteem, loyalty, trust, independence had all been taken from me by you. I secretly still carry the scarlet "V" on my chest.  All because I loved the wrong man.  Yes, you may have taken my breath away, taken the wind out of my sails and you tried to break my spirit--but I have come a long way from being broken.

Silent Night

It's hard to understand or remember the exact moment when Prince Charming began to disrespect me.  Was it the first time he told me I was stupid and my opinion was worthless?  Was it when he slapped me that first time? Or that afternoon in June when he raped me on the floor of the kitchen in his mother's home? Was it when he called me a fat pig, a dumb bitch or a stupid whore?  Or the time he told me my feelings were not valid?

Oh there is so much more to the story of Prince Charming.  Very few know the cold hard facts. Mr. NYC was secretly running an escort service out of his Manhattan apartment.  Yes, this model man who I had been with for 8 years, was not at all who he seemed.  His entire life was a lie and his behind the scene behaviors were and are clearly evil.

So as I relive each hurt from that 8 year relationship, I remember the shame.  How gullible and duped I was for falling so hard.  I was vulnerable, naive, blinded.  I believed in a man I loved and I did not believe he would keep hurting me. I remember covering the bruises and congratulating myself for covering for him  This isn't so bad.  He wasn't so bad.  If no one sees what he has done, then no one will think he is a monster and I am a fool. Sometimes I still hear his voice in my head and his ranting about me not having learned my lesson.  So at the age of 49, what is it I have learned since being away from him?

Rule number one--love does not cause pain.  Love does not include betrayal, being taken for granted, being treated without respect, lashed out at, or on the receiving end of nastiness, meanness, insults, hostility, aggression, intimidation or violence.  Love is not being forced to participate in pornographic videos or continually raped.  Love is real and can be possible.  But only with someone that values, respects, protects, accepts, and supports you rather than hurts you.

A few other things I have learned along my journey:

The scales of justice are in reality, a broken system filled with dysfunction which favors the abuser and re-victimizes the victim.  There are so many instances in which I was made to feel as the criminal.  Pasts are continually held against victims. The system continually rewards the criminal and blames the victim for his battering behaviors.  Will this ever change?

Happy Birthday to Me--2 Years Free!!!

Tomorrow, December 22, 2012 marks the second anniversary of my escape from Prince Charming.  Two years ago tomorrow is the day the police intervened and arrested him.  It is not my real birthday.  But in a sense it is the day I was reborn.  

I remember the days after when the phone stopped ringing because Prince Charming wasn't calling me twenty or thirty times a day to monitor where I was and what I was doing.  There was a sense of eerie calm and quiet for a brief time. I no longer had to listen to his violent, profanity-laced tirades which left me feeling as though I had no value, no self-worth, and no where to turn for help. The bruises on my body healed. It has taken longer for my spirit to heal.

So today as I continue to fight Prince Charming's seemingly endless litigation, I do not hate him, but I am aware of who he is.  What he has done to me and continues to do, cannot be dismissed.  Forgiveness is a choice, not a forced requirement.

By telling my story and documenting the unspeakable, in writing and witnessing the truth, the power of the secret is diminished.  Perhaps next time you yourself come across a woman in an abusive relationship, instead of asking why anyone stays with a man who beats her, you can manage the empathy and courage to help her in her way instead of judging her.  Abuse can happen to any woman.

Flashback

Today marks the nine month anniversary of my new life.  Nine months ago today, Prince Charming was served with a warrant for his arrest.  I know that there will come a time in my "new life" where I will no longer feel the need to recall these anniversary dates. Perhaps they will no longer be significant.  I know there are thousands of other women who have journeyed a similar path.  And I know I can't forget where I was nine months ago, or a year ago.

I now have a desire to change my name, move away, and simply disappear so that he can't ever find me. How strange is it that I want to change my identity when I am still struggling to find myself and who I was before him? He stole part of me.  And yet, to escape his reach, I want to become someone else.  When does it stop? When do the flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks, and hypervigilance end?

Earlier this week while working on an important project at work, I had to view a series of public service announcements for some non profit agencies.  One immediately caught me off guard.  It was for a battered women's organization.  It was quite graphic and almost instantly my mind was overloaded with memories of him. His voice loud and clear.  The flashbacks stayed with me the rest of the day and most of the evening.  Fragmented pieces of him and what happened. Thoughts and memories I was certain I had already dealt with.  Silly me!

And I learned from the DA, that soon after the no bill came down, Prince Charming tried to contact him.  Not once, but twice.  He had to tell Prince Charming's lawyer to tell him to stop calling.  Like he always told me, he was "untouchable" and unfortunately this has proven to be true.  He was "Mr. NYC" I was the no body, the no body that no one would believe.  How many times did he tell me that?

He sends me poetry now.  If you consider it poetry.  It's more like vulgar, pornographic, disgusting, angry rants.  In none of them does he ever say he's sorry or take responsibility for his actions.  I am so embarassed to have to present these "rants" to the police department.  Imagine what they will think of me when they read them?

Falling into September

Soon the leaves will be changing into brilliant beautiful hues of crimson, gold, plum, signaling an end to one season and the beginning of a new one.  Although winter is definitely not one of my favorite seasons I am going to look at it with fresh new eyes and a different light this time around.  I can suddenly see clearer despite my myopia.

There were moments this past week where I felt as if I were drowning again.  It has been one of those weeks.  We are now an entire week into my ex walking away from all criminal charges (five felonies) courtesy of the District Attorney's Office.  The "No Bill" was issued last week Friday.  My DA has yet to notify me. A friend brought it to my attention after visiting the DA's website.

The No Bill comes as no surprise.  It was an agreed approach based on my wanting closure and the DA's decision to not pursue it.  I have to wonder how many other cases do they decide not to pursue in a similar fashion.  Despite the mounds of physical evidence that the police department acquired for the case, my ex is walking away scott-free.  Had I had a DA who perhaps wanted to fight for me, this would have a different outcome. To him, I was just another case to get off of his desk.  He can't even take five minutes of his valuable time to call me and notify me of the outcome.

Within 72 hours of the no-bill, my e-mail was filled with obscene e-mails from my ex, including lyrics from a song dedicated to me, a list of my so-called offenses (which he mispelled as "offences", so much for his being a published author), and another piece entitled "Notes from the War Zone".

Every time my ex makes contact with me I am supposed to file a report since it is a violation of the order of protection.  Which means I would spend 90% of my time at the police department. And what would be the purpose, as when it got to the DA's office, he would decide to not follow-through on any of it.  So when my guardian angel aka the hero who helped me, tells me to not let my ex know he won the battle, as there is still a war to fight- I'm not quite sure how to respond.

Another week of no sleep thanks to horrorific nightmares about my ex urinating on my wedding gown to me sitting beside the coffin of my dead fiancee that he has killed.  Waking and feeling as if everything that happened in December was happening all over again, physically. No wonder dating is the last thing on my mind.  No wonder I am not able to concentrate. 

The change of season reminds me that I too am changing. I'm still struggling to find my place and who I am, trying to reclaim my life.  Learning what's important and what's not.  The true meaning of friendship instead of the quick folly of fake friends.  The ones that are toxic and just as bad as the relationship I was able to escape from.

Women Like Me

As I continue to chart a new course and build a new life for myself, I am still in the process of "coming out" so to speak. The number one question that everyone asks is "Why did you stay?".  I can't tell you how many well meaning people have asked me that question. It's an inappropriate question to ask, but here I will try to answer it.

Every woman has her own unique reasons for staying in an abusive relationship.  No one should judge her based on these reasons.  No one other than another survivor who has walked in our shoes could possibly understand. What has been interesting for me to learn, is that some women are just simply plain judgmental so they could never possibly understand. They will never get it.  It has also become clear to me that the general public believes that domestic violence doesn't happen to women like me.

I stayed because I loved this man, with all of my heart and soul.   He swept me off my feet. He made me laugh.  And their was a time that he made me feel beautiful.  You hope things will get better.  You make excuses for the abuse.  You blame yourself for why it happens.  For a while, you don't even believe it's abuse or that it could even be happening to you. When he tells you you are crazy that no one will believe you--you believe him. 

And you ask, "Why did you stay?"

Scorpio Rising

As so it goes, another month away from you.  Another breath taken.  Another flash back to deal with.  A moment of panic and then I remind myself of where I am.  Not allowing myself to forget where I was.  Another meeting with the DA.  Accepting the cold hard reality of what is evident.  And that which is not. 

Why is it that when others tell me how strong I am, I can see it, feel it, taste it.  Yet, when I tell myself it's more difficult to believe.  Trusting myself is something I am having to learn how to do all over again.  Two steps forward.  Two steps back.

I no longer read two horoscopes.  I read just one--mine.  What was your real date of birth anyway, March 30th like you had led me to believe for seven years, or March 24th?  I can no longer wear either one of my former favorite fragrances, Chanel Allure or Burberry Brit. The scent brings me back to you-- another flashback, something my mind felt the need to protect me from.

It's been pointed out to me by the DA's office, that it is called the "criminal justice system", and not the "victim justice system" because it is skewed and if all things were equal it would just be called the "justice system."

Through all that has happened, I am learning from other survivors how to heal and move beyond victimization.  Surviving an abusive relationship and creating a life free from violence is hard--but moving past victimization is something more than surviving; it is healing, knowing that I deserve and am capable of good things. Healing can be as difficult as surviving; it is about leaning and growing and moving on in a different way.  Becoming a better me.

So as I remember where I was a year ago, I look at where I am today.   After years of struggling with being disbelieved, and asking myself what I had done to cause you to hurt me-- I confided in someone and he believed me.  I only began to heal once I realized I wasn't alone.

I have come to believe that God places people in your life at the moment they are supposed to be there, no sooner or no later.  So today, because of grace and my guardian angel, I take another breath and smile a little more.



The Semantics of Being Safe

The Merriam-Webster's Dictionary gives the definition of the word safe as: free from harm or risk, unhurt, secure from threat of danger, harm, or loss, affording safety or security from danger, risk or difficulty, obsolete of mental or moral faculties; healthy, sound and last but not least, not likely to take risks, cautious.

As the clock ticks away on my criminal order of protection, I have had plenty of time to think about the meaning of this very complicated word.  The only time I have felt truly safe was the two days he spent locked up behind bars back in December after his arrest. 

Before a warrant was even issued for his arrest, with the help of a victims advocate, I made the decision to obtain an order of protection through Family Court.  I had to file a petition and tell the judge why I felt I needed this order.  Lucky for me, I had a very understanding and compassionate judge who understood what had happened and believed me.  Another person who believed me!!! 

For the longest time when I confronted my ex about certain things and how his abuse was affecting me, he shook his head in mock pity and told me that I had quite an imagination. He had constantly told me no one would ever believe me.  I was nothing but a piece of trash and a piece of shit.  He was a successful businessman, who would even consider believing me over him?

Before him, I had a history.  I had held responsible positions in well-known non profit agencies and won fundraising awards.  I also had been a writer, a blogger, but since him, I had written very little and finished nothing.  I spent every ounce of energy meeting his needs and demands.

My Prince Charming had a penchant for porn.  He was unable to separate sex from violence and found violent sex the most exciting kind.  It got so bad that I became able to turn off the pain of being punched in the face and thrown against the wall.  I was afraid to feel.  My feelings were not valid was another one of his favorite lines.  I had turned off my feelings for so long that I was numb, but the December rape was so traumatic they broke through.  I suddenly realized that I was tired of dying day by day.

And here we are today.  The clock ticking on every level of the criminal proceedings.  The DA's office not able to crack his alibi despite the physical evidence.  Contrary to what he told the investigator when he was removed from the police car,  I did not have a psychotic episode, fall down and hit my head.

Do I feel safe today?  Absolutely not.  I would like to.  But I know him.  I know what he is capable of.  I guess you could say I am used to living in a constant state of  heightened awareness. I sometimes distrust my fear or talk myself out of it.  That fear may impel me to some action that may very well save my life.

How ironic is it that the word "Safe" also means secure and whole?