It's funny what images get frozen in your mind during a traumatic event. For me, it's the way the drywall dust and wood splinters hurled through the air towards me when he kicked the door open to come after me.
It's been three and a half years since that incident. The way his face looked, contorted with rage, isn't so clear anymore. I can tell you that it was. When he became angry, it always changed into a face I didn't even recognize. He became another person, a demon. But I can't (or don't) picture exactly what he looked like anymore. Nor can I recall the way his voice sounded while he was shrieking at me.
But I can easily picture the particles flying through the air. And the feeling of absolute disbelief (at that moment and still now) that I was in this situation. Of all the women out there, I above all, should have known better.
There had been incidents before this one, and there were more after. Each one traumatic to me, but none all that serious in the grand scheme. I have been to many meetings for victims of domestic violence now and I know that I am lucky. I was not punched, kicked, pinched, slapped, burned, stabbed or shot. I never had a bruise, or any other wound that could be seen. I am alive and my son is alive. For this I am thankful.
I was merely put down, treated with contempt, screamed at, shoved, pushed, dragged, terrorized and threatened (repeatedly) with losing my child. After I finally ended the relationship, I was stalked, harassed, slandered, accused of theft, burglary, and other crimes. I was investigated by my employer, ostracized by friends and co-workers, and forced to defend myself and my motherhood in two separate and very costly civil lawsuits.
As you may imagine, the psychological, physical, and financial toll on me and my resources was immense. I had anxiety attacks, obsessive thoughts and at one point was suicidal. I dropped to 107 pounds, was unable to sleep, and developed a laundry list of physical ailments. I lost my home and paid at least a half a year's salary in legal fees.
I am a police officer. The menacing bully who mistreated me and caused so much agony is also a police officer. We both still work at the same agency.
I began my law enforcement career over 7 years ago, with the idealistic conviction that Police Officers should be held to a higher standard of behavior than the general public. I still believe, even after all that I have been put through by my former boyfriend and my own agency, that given enough time, the truth will prevail.
It is this belief that kept me going through all of it, and keeps me going today. While some police women would have left their jobs, I have not. I got counseling, went on medication and went through hypnosis for PTSD. I fought like a wildcat and right now, I can honestly say for the most part, things in both my personal life and my professional life have turned around.
Some people have told me they consider me courageous for sticking it out. Maybe I am exceptionally brave, or maybe I'm just stubborn. Either way, I just can't let the good ol' boys beat me. A year and a half ago, I filed a lawsuit against my department. Within two weeks, the Chief unexpectedly announced his retirement. Subsequent administration changes shifted the work environment from downright hostile to tolerable.
In this new atmosphere, I continued to be myself and my former tormentor continued to be himself. People began to see him for who he really is. He began to screw up in ways that had nothing to do with me, but everything to do with his true nature. He was caught in a lie. He was investigated for misconduct and dereliction of duty.
Another officer in my department told me one day, "More and more people here are seeing his behavior as a pattern. Pretty soon, he won't have any friends left here anymore. As it is, the new Chief won't even shake his hand."
And it's come true. I began to get recognized again for my job performance. I got promoted to Detective. He got a new Sergeant who could "supervise" him more effectively and is watching him like a hawk. I hear other officers make disparaging comments about him and the quality of his work now. One Assistant Chief professes to hate him, the other refers to him as, "That man."
Although it sounds like a happy ending, the battle is far from over. My lawsuit is yet to be settled and I anticipate more disharmony surrounding that. Realistically, the effect all this has had and will have on my career cannot be measured. I will never know whether my ultimate success or failure in law enforcement is because of all this or in spite of it all.
I also won't truly be comfortable in my workplace until my former boyfriend no longer works here. To see him still in uniform, walking the hallways of my police department is an insult to me, my co-workers and the public. He is a criminal. After all, I am expected to arrest people for doing to others exactly what he did to me. I don't want to be black and white about it, but hey, I swore to uphold the law and so did he. I don't want to be a hypocrite, and frankly, it's a double standard we could all do without these days.
But again, I have a belief. The truth will win out in the end. I am ever hopeful that next time he screws up, there will be a witness and there won't be an excuse. And whether I'm brave or stubborn really doesn't matter. What does matter is that I'm no longer living in an environment and with a man that made me feel helpless, worthless and scared.
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