It takes a village.

October is domestic violence awareness month. It is also the month I celebrate my escape from an abusive relationship.

Though it’s been three years since I left, the emotional wounds are still healing. There are days that I have more questions than answers, but most days, there isn’t a point to asking any question but one: how do abusive men continue to thrive in their communities and find new victims? The answer, though not a good one, is that domestic violence is still seen as a “personal” issue and victims are tasked with the burden of proving abuse.

What I’ve learned not only through my experience in an abusive relationship, but also through years of professional experience in advocacy and support, is that abusive men do an incredibly thorough job of discrediting their victims. In the town that I lived in, my abuser was involved with many businesses and was a fixture at community events. Through reaching out to other women he had dated, I learned that he had been hurting women he dated for years, but they felt such shame and guilt that they didn’t feel comfortable speaking out. He quite effectively convinced us that we were without value, and that we didn’t fit in with the members of a community we cared about.

What I know for sure is that my abuser is a coward. His cowardice and insecurity are trademarks of men who harm women. Had community members held him accountable, asked questions, been supportive of the women he had harmed, this story would be very different.

It takes a village. If something seems wrong in a relationship, ask about it. If you see something, say something. If you know that someone is being mistreated, do something about it. Educate, speak up, and advocate. Whether you know it or not, you have someone in your life who has experienced abuse, and you can make a difference.

*I understand that domestic violence occurs in all relationships, not just heterosexual relationships, and not only violence perpetrated against women by men. This domestic violence fact sheet has more information.

Grace.

I woke this morning with a list of failures running through my mind. And I could feel the weight of them holding me down. It’s a feeling I know well; a trademark of clinical depression (a diagnosis I received in April).

The thing about depression and the fight to get well is that sometimes there are only a handful of productive days in a month. Sometimes there are only moments. The struggle is to accept that there may only be brief periods when I will be okay and simple tasks won’t feel like major obstacles.

I often think that I could give more grace; work to understand people around me even when it’s hard. Rarely do I think about my own need for grace. This morning, waking with the weight of it all, I thought about grace. I decided to give myself grace and to face today from the point I’m at right now; not looking forward or back, but being in this space: the cool, early morning dark. The smell of coffee. The knowledge that this is exactly where I need to be.