A Letter From A Survivor Of Domestic Violence

I am a survivor.
I spent years struggling to survive a world of violence.
This violence was in my home. It was an everyday existence for me.
It became a matter of life, or death, for me.
I wanted to live and I didn’t know how to break away from this life I was living.
And I looked for help. I looked in my church because it seemed like a safe place.
I thought I would be accepted there, and ministered to.
I was wrong. I only found guilt and shame.
I was told of the things I needed to do to make it stop.
But it didn’t stop. It got worse.
I went back to the church, and they sent me back into the world.
Why did they do that? I needed hope, and I left hopeless.
Is there no place for me in the church?
You say that you cannot get involved, because if I left my abuser, it would lead you to believe that you are condoning divorce. So you condone violence in it’s place.
You tell me to stay. Maybe if I prayed more, acted more loving, then things would get better.
Now he wants to kill me.  But you don’t want to get involved.
Just ignore me, and maybe I will go away. That is the plan, because you don’t really want to say it.
So I will leave, and pray that I don’t die. After all, you may be sending me to my death, and you wouldn’t want to live with my blood on your hands.
So send me on my way, and I will pray for you, that God opens your eyes.
© Jamey Wysocki

*This is a work of fiction to bring about awareness of domestic violence. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.