Waking up on March 2nd, 2018, was like any other morning after a big fight with Paul. I felt exhausted. I was so tired of being told that he’s trying to be my friend and that I should try to be his. I was tired of him telling me I wasn’t allowed a divorce, and that he was “ten steps ahead” of me if I tried to get one. I was tired of the threats. The night prior, he had added a new one to his repertoire, saying the kids would end up in foster care if I tried leaving him. I was approaching my wits end.
The night before, Paul was still upset with the changes (or lack thereof) to my PTSD letter he wanted me to write for him. He notified me that, once again, he was taking away my driving privileges. He did this from time to time, claiming that he didn’t trust me, that I wasn’t of sound mind or judgement to be driving. It never lasted long. Paul was lazy and an alcoholic. It was always just a matter of time before he needed me to drive again, because he had been drinking, or he was too lazy to go get himself McDonalds at eleven o’clock at night.
That morning was cold and I went out to our family vehicle to get it started. I wasn’t going to drive myself to work, I knew how to play this game. I was only going to get it warming up. Only I couldn’t get into our SUV using the keyless entry. I pulled my keys from my jacket pocket to find that Paul had taken my fob from my keychain when I wasn’t looking. He had never taken my keys before.
I was beyond angry. I was shocked, which is something I didn’t think he could possibly do to me anymore. I walked back into our apartment. Paul was already awake and putting his boots on. When I walked in, he looked up at me and said “Don’t worry, I’ll start the car.” He was so nonchalant about it, like he was doing me a favor. He was acting like he didn’t just take away one of the last vestiges of my freedom. His casual acknowledgement of his power and control over our relationship was terrifying. That was is it, my last straw, I was finally done.
“She’s standing on the line between giving up and seeing how much more she can take.”
(Relationship Rules, n.d.)
Same Story… Different Details
Everyone’s last straw looks different, but no matter the incident, it’s the pivotal event that solidifies the victim’s resolve to leave. For me, Paul taking my keys while I slept was his downfall. I was done with him controlling me. I was done with him chipping away at my freedom. I was done with the threats. Yes, the decision to leave was an accumulation of years of abuse, but I may have stayed with him months, or even years, longer if it wasn’t for him taking my keys.
I had been wanting to leave Paul for a long time at that point, meeting with attorneys, making plans, but I wasn’t sure when I was going to do it. In the span of a couple months my resolve to stick out as long as I could dwindled.
I just have to stick it out until the kids are out of school…
I just have to stick out until they are in high school...
I just have to stick it out until I get my LPN…
I just need to make it to the end of the semester…
I can’t wait another day.
Now I know that having my car keys taken from me doesn’t seem that drastic. My life wasn’t in immediate danger. Paul was not physically violent, and he took great pride in that fact. However, the more I stood up for myself and the more boundaries I started enforcing, the more intimidating and menacing he became. He would deliver his threats in a completely flat monotone voice with dead eyes to match. I truly believe that if I had stayed and continued to struggle and defy his demands, he would have turned up his heat to physical violence.
In her book, Crazy Love (Steiner, 2009), Leslie describes the night she found her last straw. Her husband of 2 years had beaten her within an inch of her life. A neighbor had started pounding on their front door, having heard her screams. This snapped her husband back to reality and he stopped attacking her. He then left the apartment. Leslie called the police, filed a restraining order and never went back. She found her last straw. She knew that if she stayed, he would kill her.
In the book, No Visible Bruises (Snyder, 2019), Rachel describes a time she went along with a detective and domestic violence advocate to interview a survivor. She tells the story of Grace and how she got herself and her kids away from her abusive partner. The final straw for Grace was the day after a horrendous beating, her abuser bought her flowers. He had never done this before and it scared her enough to make an escape plan. She was with him five more days, playing nice, until she was able to escape with her kids when her abuser when back to work.
It doesn’t matter what your last straw is, it doesn’t have to look like someone else’s. All that matters is you get the gears in motion to get out. My last straw was a non-physical event. The other two examples I gave were physically violent events. Remember, abuse is abuse. Whether it is verbal, psychological, physical or sexual it is ALL abuse. You do not have to wait until your abuser hits you for it to be considered abuse. You don’t have to take ANY level of abuse.
Get your ducks in row and make your escape.
References:
- Relationship Rules. (n.d.) She’s Standing on the Line Between Giving Up and Seeing How Much More She can Take. [Pinterest Post] Retrieved January 9, 2023, from www.pinterest.com/pin/907545762390025504/
- Snyder, R.L. (2019) No Visible Bruises, Bloomsbury Publishing.
- Steiner, L.M. (2009) Crazy Love. St. Martin’s Press.