Dear Readers: 

The following is part of one woman's' story. Her name is Marcie and she has given me permission to print this in my site to show others out there that she too survived a grueling life of abuse. I can not say strongly enough--if you are being abused do not stay-get out!!! Marcie's story will tell you another reason why you must leave before it is to late. It was nearly to late for Marcie. Read on........... 

Hi I know I have been promising to do this for weeks --but I didn't realize how difficult this would be. So please bear with me--I will probably leave out things I should say and I will probably say things that might be better left unsaid. 

My name is Marcie and I live in southeastern Ky. I was a victim of abuse both physically and mentally. I married when I was 19 to a boy I grew up with. From the very beginning the signs were there but please remember this was in the 60's and then, especially in the mountains of Ky. there was no place to go and really it was something that you did not talk about. At first the abuse was just mental---such as don't speak or who was that? I always knew he had the potential to be violent so I was constantly on guard--never knowing what would be the wrong word or the wrong gesture that would escalate into a huge argument. 

As the years passed I kept all of this to myself (my parents thought he was the perfect son-in-law and my family eventually backed him when the abuse became physical). I had two small children, no job, no place to go so I felt like I was stranded. There were no safe houses--it was you married --work it out--make it work--just keep all the bad stuff in the closet--don't talk about it. 

It took me years after his death to realize that there was such a thing as rape in a marriage--I was raised and taught that a wife was to be submissive to her husband--that a wife had a job to do and that was to do just what her husband wanted. So many, many times I was raped and didn't know it--I thought I was just being the normal wife. I tried so hard to keep everything from my children and even my friends.

With my children I kept thinking I don't want them to know this side of their father and to my friends I was a happy married woman with a man that worshiped the ground I walked on and gave me anything I wanted. I was too ashamed and too embarrassed to tell them the truth. 

The first time he hit me is a picture still 30 years later so clear in my mind as if it happened today. I had gone to work to just help pay some bills and he thought I was having an affair with a coworker. So one night as I was sitting on the couch he turned around and hit me in the face and on the side of my head. Today I have a tear in my eye from the abuse over the years and severely damaged ear. 

From then on I never knew what to expect. I have been awoken in the middle of the night with him beating me--just because he had a dream that I did something. I have had him point a gun at me or hold a knife at my throat not knowing if I was going to see another day or not. I know that most people will say why didn't you leave? How can you leave with two children when you know without any doubt in your mind that if you walk out the door you will be shot for sure? I knew if I tried to leave I was dead. Finally when my son was 10 I told him after another beating that if God let me live to raise my children that as soon as they were grown I was leaving regardless. That if he killed me when I walked out the door it would be better than the life I was living. 

The last couple of years of his life the physical abuse lessened but the mental abuse became so much worse. Bruises go away but words never do. I hated myself, my life. I felt worthless. Now I know that that is what they want us to believe. Finally his jealously got to the point he would totally become another person. I would always look at his eyes to see who the person was coming in the door. He could come in take a shower and come out of the bathroom a completely different person than the person that went in. I begged and pleaded for him to get help (and that I would go to counseling too) No that wasn't the answer he said. I was the problem. Then he finally told a close friend that if he could go to the Dr. without me knowing it he would go. It is so sad when so much stigmatism is attached to a mental problem. 

Finally in 1984 he committed suicide. I say finally because I had lived for over 20 years with that threat. But in the last few years of his life I honestly believed that he would kill me first then himself. Today I still wonder why he didn't. The night before he died he stood over me with a knife and you could see the struggle he was having trying to decide what to do. Finally he walked away. The next day he died. But the abuse really didn't end with his death--yes I could lay down and go to sleep without thinking will I die before morning--but his suicide destroyed our family. Everyone had to have someone to blame and the logical person to blame was me. 

My family is still shattered. I have just gotten my son back after years of never knowing where he was or how he was. Today I still have deep scars that will never heal--It is hard for me to trust even though now I have a wonderful man in my life. (I was married for a short time after my first husbands death--a huge mistake--the abuse there was mental--as long as I allowed it--but I learned that I was a much stronger person than I thought so that marriage ended.) 

The bruises from abuse go away---but so many scars on so many lives don't. There is so much more but right now I feel drained--it is like I have relived my life my just telling a very few things.