Note: This is a real story, written by a real person. Please be aware of potential triggers around domestic and sexual violence, suicide, and substance use in this piece. To share your story, click here.
When I woke up, my head was so heavy, and I kept going in and out of consciousness. I could hear Jackson speaking in the background. I tried to keep my eyes open, but they were so heavy, and my vision was so blurry. I could not understand why I was still alive; I should have been dead. My throat hurt and my entire body ached, and it never occurred to me that he had strangled me again or that he had sodomized me. All I could think about was why was I still alive. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I fell out of consciousness again.
Days later in the ER I spoke with a psychiatrist via the Internet from my bed. I remember him telling me it was a miracle that I was alive. I am a survivor of domestic and sexual violence from the person that I loved the most in the world.
This is my story.
To understand how I succumbed to such a toxic relationship I think it is important for me to back it up a little bit before I met my abuser.
I had a soul mate at one time: Tom. We met in college while I was studying in the south of France. After years of dating we were engaged but things did not work out as planned because he lived in France and I lived in America. But my love for him never died.
Right before I met my abuser, I had found out that Tom had fallen off a cliff and had been in a coma for three years. I had been writing to him every day for 45 days and was just getting ready to head for Spain when I got the news he had died. I was devastated and was not sure where to go from there. I feel this is important because I believe people like my abuser prey on women like myself who are experiencing a love deficit and or are vulnerable.
In the hospital after my last assault, I remember a therapist telling us a story about a study done with monkeys. Baby monkeys had been removed from their mother for a period of time, to the point of starvation, and then they were brought into a room. In the room there were two chairs. One chair was covered in a simulation of the fur of its mother and on the other chair was a bottle of milk. Every time, the baby monkeys chose to curl up into the fur instead of rushing to drink the milk to ease their starvation.
It has been suggested that in the hierarchy of needs, love is more important than food and shelter.
I do not know what study it was or what evidence there was to substantiate this story, but what I do know is: I identified with the baby monkeys. I was so in need of love and my abuser was there to provide what my former partner no longer could.
This is how my trauma bonding began.
After months of grieving, I decided to focus on my art once again. I went to Craigslist to check out if anyone was advertising for studio space. There was studio space $100 a month. This was too good to pass up. I thought the world was throwing me a bone.
The following day, I had an appointment to check out the space, and this is where I met Jackson. There was instant chemistry and suddenly my life seemed to have purpose again. Jackson had filled the gaping hole in my heart.
April – beginning of October - WE ARE ON
The studio was open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, and I had keys so I could come and go as I pleased. On one occasion, I had stopped by on my way to yoga and I noticed Jackson was there with a girl. I later found out her name was Nicole.
Several weeks later Jackson started texting me on my phone in the morning. At first it seemed harmless. It was just, “hello, are you coming to the studio today?” This was followed by ambiguous emojis: first, just smileys, then smiles that were winking, followed by flowers and eventually the horny devil.
I looked forward to the morning messages, but once it hit the promiscuous side, I confronted him about dating someone. I asked if he was currently in a relationship and he told me yes, but it was not serious. I asked him if he lived with her and he said no he had his own place and he would be breaking off the relationship soon. He told me he was not ready for a relationship and the girl he was dating wanted much more.
I shared with him I was not ready for a relationship as I had just lost someone incredibly special. He seemed to be such a decent guy when he told me that Nicole was the one who financed the studio space and he wanted to pay her back before he broke up with her and do it properly. He led me to believe the relationship would end within weeks.
He took me to his house. I noticed that the room was void of clothes in the closet and looked like no one really lived in in general. These were all red flags that something was not right…things that I chose to ignore it. I believe I chose to ignore the flags because otherwise, I would return to my state of loneliness and grieving Tom.
The chemistry with Jackson was strong, and our relationship was very intense very quickly. I loved how in the beginning, when I left the studio at night, he would tell me to call him when I got home so he would know that I had arrived safely. I loved how he took such an interest in everything that I did. I loved waking up his messages or images of him blowing me kisses and I didn’t want to let that go.
WE ARE OFF
About a month into our relationship, Nicole showed up at the studio. It was very awkward. She was very friendly, and I didn’t reciprocate the kindness because I knew what I was doing was wrong and there was no way I could be her friend and date him at the same time. I believed their relationship was ending and I just had to wait it out.
As Nicole was getting ready to leave the studio she turned to Jackson and said, “I know that cough has been keeping you up every night, and it’s keeping me up, too. Do you want me to bring you home some hibiscus honey and tea tonight?” He said yes.
My heart sank to my stomach as I suddenly realized that he did live with her and he had lied to me. To make matters worse, they were leaving for a vacation abroad in two days and would be gone for two weeks. He told me it was something planned prior to meeting me and he could not back out but when he got back, he promised it would be over.
While he was on vacation, I started to pull back from the relationship. The day he left I said to myself fuck you, have fun, I am done. There were other artists in the studio besides me and Jackson: there was one named Michael. Michael would say things that made me believe Jackson was telling me the truth.
While he was on vacation, Michael expressed that Jackson was using Nicole for her money and that Nicole was getting fed up because she kept saying I love you to Jackson and he would never say it back.
I remember him being gone for almost four days and I had heard nothing from him. I was livid. I was talking on the phone with my girlfriend when out of the blue I got a giphy that said “I love you.” I remember sharing this with my friend and laughing, saying, “who the hell does he think he is? He is on vacation with his girlfriend and he is texting me he loves me!”
I told him that we were over and to enjoy his vacation. I remember seeing pictures of them on social media and they looked incredibly happy. My heart was broken, and I really missed what I thought we had together.
WE ARE ON
I only heard from him a few times and when he came back things felt different for a few days. He was distant with me. I did not need to say anything because he had clearly pulled back.
I refocused on my art. I kept my headphones on with the music blasting and ignored the world around me. However, as quickly as it disappeared, the love-bombing began again.
First came the apologizes. He was so sorry he lied. He said he lied because he did not want to lose me. He said he did not ever love her or even say I love you to her, and he was sorry he hurt me.
I was still distant, but he did not give up. He would call repeatedly until I answered. He bombarded me with links to love songs and left gifts on my studio table. Eventually, I gave in, and the love bombing continued.
He spent every day with me, even the holidays. He started just showing up at my house to take me out to breakfast. He started to talk about being married. We loved all the same things, we worked on art collaborations, and he taught me ceramics. He did not hide his affection in front of other people.
But he still lived with her.
If she came to the studio , he would run to the other side. He blatantly ignored her and eventually told her she was not allowed to visit.
The sex was amazing. The best sex I ever had, and we could not get enough of each other. It was like a drug and I was an addict.
October – Insert Trauma
After 6 months of intense passion, it changed in an instant. We were having sex at the studio. He was behind me , and he grabbed me by the back of my ponytail and yanked my head up violently. He put his hands around my neck and started to strangle me. His grip was so hard that it scared me. I started crying and was trying to pry his hands off my neck, but he did not stop until he came, and he came relatively quickly.
I remember turning around screaming at him, “what is wrong with you?!” I was bawling. He grabbed me by my face and looked at me so lovingly and said he did not realize he was hurting me or that I was crying, and he was so sorry and he would never do it again. I believed him. I thought I must be over-reacting because he was being so loving. I must have misread it.
We sat and talked for about 30 minutes and he was again the very loving man that I had fallen in love with. He walked me to my car and kissed me and told me to call him when I got home so he would know I was safe and sound.
After that night, sex was never the same. He never looked me in the face anymore. He did continue to yank my hair, and every now and then he would put his hands around my neck, but he never did as hard as he did that first time. Gradually now and then turned into every time.
Jackson was a mug designer and was in high demand. He had clients waiting 2 years out to get their products, but during the time he was courting me, he had stopped working and stopped paying the people that were helping him fill the orders. Things started backing up, clients got angry, and workers started leaving.
At first, I felt sorry for him, and I would help him with his orders and then it became expected of me. I started putting my home décor line to the side and started helping him complete his orders. The camaraderie disappeared and so did our projects together
By the end of October, Nicole had thrown him out of the house. That day should have been a day of celebration but instead he was angry and sad, which in turn made me mad.
I pulled back. This time he did not come after me lovingly. Instead, he would call in the morning saying, “hey, when are you going to be at the studio? If we do not get this order out, we will lose the space.”
So, I was now rescuing him, thinking that he was behaving this way because he was overwhelmed and stressed out. I thought, if we just get some orders out, he can move into an apartment and everything would go back to normal.
A few weeks later I found out that the truck he drove was Nicole’s and he could not be seen out with me publicly because he was scared he would lose his car.
Again, it turned to me helping to get the orders out to get money so he could get a place and now a car.
I lost my financial stability. We stopped communicating. He would lock himself in the bathroom at the studio sometimes for hours at a time. I thought he was either doing drugs or was texting with Nicole.
I knew something was up and resentment started setting in, and then I lost my job. I worked as a virtual assistant answering phones. He only got about 4 calls a day which allowed me to paint and work at the same time.
The market had changed, and finances were tight, and he had to let me go. I started looking at new jobs right away, but Jackson convinced me to do my own mug and I could pull in 6K right away. Everyone else did, so I thought great idea, let us do it. I had the mug ready to go in about 5 days, but we had to make the mold and get the supplies to create it, so he convinced me again to help with the orders so I could get the supplies.
I went through all my savings very quickly. By the end of the month I was broke and he had me convinced the only way to get back on my feet was to work with him.
November - Physical Violence
In November, our relationship was in extreme distress. The calls in the morning and calls in the evening were no longer to say good morning and good night but to check to see if I was at home.
One morning he called me and started yelling about a picture of a guy that was on my social media. It was a picture that was taken 4 years ago. I got irritated and hung up on him.
Fifteen minutes later, l heard his truck pull up. I ran to the back-sliding glass door to lock it just as he was jumping over the shrubs. In less than 60 seconds, he had popped the lock and chased me down the hallway to my bedroom.
He grabbed ahold of my wrist before I made it inside safely. He yanked the phone out of my hand and smashed it onto the ground. I was stunned and scared. I just started crying and asked him, “what is wrong with you?! I have a job interview via the phone in an hour!”
He just turned and walked out the door without saying anything and called me 20 minutes later from a store where he had gone to get me a new phone. He got it back to me before my interview, which I rescheduled because I was so upset.
We calmly talked about what had happened. He was sweet and loving. He said he was scared he was losing me, and he was stressed out because he was so behind in work.
About an hour later, I was laying on my bed. I was on my back and I was dosing off when he suddenly jumped on top of me. He was kneeling straddled over my body with his legs pinning my arms down by the side, and he was strangling me.
It happened so fast that I could not even react. I was starting to black out and right before I did, he let go. I started crying and he pulled me up and hugged me and said I love you; I am sorry, I am so sorry. I grabbed my phone and ran out of the room.
I called my girlfriend and told her what happened. She told me to get out of my house, but he had beat me to it and when I turned around, he was gone, and I could hear his truck pulling away. I was completely shocked. I promised her I would never go back to him.
That was the last time I confided to anyone about Jackson.
Days went by and I did not go to the studio and neither did he. He would text in the morning and would text in the evening to check if I was at home, but we did not talk.
I started going to my brother’s house because Jackson did not know where he lived. I also started drinking. I am not a drinker, but I started drinking in the evenings and stayed with my brother for about a week.
Jackson and I argued via text for hours and eventually, he lured me back to the studio because it was time to make my mug.
We had fun for about a week. There was not any sex, and I thought we were going separate ways and we would be able to part as friends. He invited me to his mother’s for Thanksgiving because I was alone. I enjoyed meeting all his relatives and for that day it was like the first day I met him. He was loving, kind and considerate. He had gotten a place to stay and was no longer living at the studio.
I thought maybe things are getting better again. I was so wrong.
December
Not long after Thanksgiving had ended, Jackson became sick with the flu. He was not leaving the house, he was not showering, and he was neglecting his dog. I said that I would stop over and bring him some cough medicine.
When I arrived, there was trash all over the yard. Piles of dog shit all over the yard. It was disgusting. I opened the door to the studio and his dog was in a crate covered with a sheet. Food was all over the place half eaten with mold growing on it. He did not even acknowledge me when I walked in. I took the dog for a walk.
I loved that dog, and to this day still worry about him. I was quite sure he abused him when I was not around. I had the dog at my place for a few months until someone reported him to the HOA. It broke my heart when I had to give him back to Jackson.
When I returned from walking him, Jackson said the only reason I came over was to spy on him. I was there to see if he was with any other girls. I said “what are you talking about? We talked on the phone before I came! You told me what medicine you wanted…”
Then I had an epiphany. I said, “oh you are doing to me what you did to Nicole. You are starting a fight so I will leave. No worries. I am leaving!” I left.
He would text me but again just to keep tabs on me. If I would ignore them, I knew he would show up at my house, so I would reply. We would see each other at the shop and we barely spoke to one another.
I finally got my mug ready and had 800 people interested. He finally agreed to list it to the clients but when he did, he purposely overpriced it by hundreds of dollars. Now the money I had counted on had fallen through.
He would supply me with $20 here and there. I was depressed, hopeless and felt very lost.
He was in the bathroom all the time now. Then one day out of the blue, Jackson called me at home via video from the studio bathroom to show me him masturbating. I now knew for sure what he was doing in the bathroom.
Jackson started texting me saying, “you are not normal. You do not have the normal range of emotions like other people do. You are dangerous. You hurt people.”
He stopped showering and was always angry. The only way to escape him was to go to my brother’s house, but I had to constantly watch to make sure he was not following me.
Sexual Violence
Jackson has a son. He left to visit his son for Christmas. The guest house he was staying in belonged to his ex-girlfriend. She had to beg him to come and visit his son, yet he always used his son as pity card to get sympathy from others. It was disgusting. I agreed to dog sit while he was gone. I looked forward to seeing the dog.
I was on the internet applying for jobs when his messenger popped up. I clicked on it and he was sexting 3 different girls at one time. I was watching it go one for about 2 minutes then I lost it and texted him a picture of his computer screen. He called me and very calmly said he was a sex addict, and this is what he does. He was so calm it was eerie.
He came back Christmas evening around 5pm and we both went to his moms to grab some food. The festivities were over, but she had lots of leftovers. I spent the night at his house that evening.
The next day, we were watching a movie. I was laying on my side and suddenly he grabbed me by the hair on the back of my head and flipped me on my stomach while pushing my face down into the pillow. I was not sure what he was doing at first, then while he held my head down with one hand, he pulled my pants down with the other hand and entered me.
We had not had sex in a while now. Once he was inside, he yanked my head back and started to strangle me again. I did not fight back and when it was over, he tossed me aside like a piece of garbage and did not say a word. I waited a few minutes and then just got up and left.
I heard his truck drive by my house later checking to see if I was home. This time it felt like being raped. The guy I once knew was gone but he would not let me go and he scared me. I really did believe he would kill me.
January
He had started to continuously ask me for anal sex. I refused. I told him I have tried before, and I just can’t and if I ever do it again it will have to be a real special occasion. Every now and then when we had sex, he would act like it slipped and try and put it in, but I always caught him before he could, and he never fought me on that. I felt defeated.
I had no job prospects and the only person that was helping me financially was Jackson. He kept my phone on and dished out food, just enough to keep me hanging in there but not enough for me to escape. I felt ashamed at who I had become. I did not reach out to any friends because I did not know what I would say.
First Suicide Attempt and Sexual Violence
Then one night I missed Tom and got the crazy thought that maybe it is time for me to go and be with him. I grabbed a bunch of pills and alcohol and headed to the art studio. I thought if I am going to die, it is not going to be by his hands. I am going to go out doing what I love to do – Art.
I went there at about 8 pm. I took a bunch of pills and downed them with beer. I got the idea that I should take them spread out, so I do not throw them up. I wrote a suicide note. I left everything to Jackson (Crazy right? But I did) There were strong sleeping pills in the mix and about 30 mins later, I was passed out.
I forgot about one thing. I did not text to check in. He found me at the studio. I have no idea what time it was when he did. He yanked me up by the arm and pulled me through the studio and out the door. He was going to take me to the hospital. I convinced him not to because I was scared they would take me to a county psychiatric ward, and then I blacked out again.
I woke up and I was lying on my back looking up at the ceiling and his apartment. I was being thrust up and down on my back and he was underneath me naked. My sweatpants were pulled down around my ankles and I kept going in and out of consciousness.
It took me a second to realize he was sodomizing me, and I asked him what he was doing. He said I am “******* you in the *** and you are loving it!”
I remember crying and then I remember urinating on myself and on him and then I passed out again. The next day I woke up and at first I thought it was a bad dream and then I looked at him and I asked him what happened and he said “I f*****you in the ass and you loved it!”
He had brought me there with his truck so I could not leave, and I was not sure what to do so I just laid there.He got out of bed a few minutes later and told me to put on my clothes which I did, and we went down to his truck and he took me back to my car at the art studio.
He ran into the studio while I was getting into my car and came back out with the suicide note I had left on the table. He slapped it on my window and told me if I did anything, he would have me committed. So, I just drove myself home or maybe to my brothers and did not say a word to anybody.
I continued to drink and become more depressed and then on January 20th I tried it again.
January 20th Suicide Attempt
I came back from my brother’s house and my mom had a bottle of Xanax on the counter. I knew she had gone to a book club meeting that night, so I took the brand-new prescription of Xanax and went back to the art studio with some more alcohol and tried to kill myself again.
This time I called Jackson around 9:00 PM and said, “I am going to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I took 80 Xanax right away and probably drank 3 or 4 beers before I passed out.
I have no idea what time it was when he found me again. Just like the first time he yanked me off the floor by my arm and started pulling me through the studio towards his truck. This time I fought him; I knew he was going to take me back and hurt me and rape me, and I was scared.
I was too drugged up and could barely fight, so he was able to overtake me and get me into his truck. I remember fighting with him for the keys to the studio hoping to get away and lock myself in there, but it was no use…he was too strong, and I finally blacked out for good.
I woke up and could not believe I was still alive. I could barely keep my eyes open and I could hear him speaking to his mom on the phone. I rolled over and everything hurt. I looked down at my body and I was covered in red marks on my arms, on one of my breasts, on my butt, on the back of my leg, and there was a giant knot on my head and my throat was killing me. Tears were rolling down my face and I fell back asleep.
He woke me up again and told me to get dressed. I did not care what happened to me anymore. He drove me to his mom’s house and when we got there, she had food waiting for me. I thought to myself, oh she is being so nice to me.
Then she walked out of the room and she started a bath. She pulled me up from my food and told me, “it is time o get into the tub. You need to take a hot bath and get back into bed and sleep until you feel better.”
Once I was standing in the tub, I realized she knew what he did to me and they were giving me a bath to get rid of the evidence in case I decided to report being raped.
This is when I first started asking Jackson over and over, “why did you rape me? why did you choke me? why did you sodomize me?”
I remember his brother came home and I was laying in his mom’s bed and I started crying. I told his brother what Jackson had done to me.
I heard the family talking outside my door saying it was time for Jackson to leave again.
“Again.” It still haunts me until today. He had done this before.
He needed to get out of town, and they were trying to figure out where he should go. My mom noticed that her pills were gone and had been trying to find me all night long. She finally got ahold of Jackson and he told her I was safe and sleeping soundly. I think he told her I was doing drugs.
Later that day she demanded that he bring me home. He came back to his mom’s house around 7:00 PM and was angry and told me to get out to the car so he could bring me home. I walked to his truck in an oversized T-shirt and flip flops that his mom had given me, holding my clothes in my hand.
Jackson walked me to the door and when my mom answered, I walked down the hallway to my bedroom and they both followed me. I guess I got on to my bed and curled up into a ball in the corner and I kept saying, “tell my mom what you did. Tell her that you raped me, sodomized me, and strangled me and I won’t call the police.”
Apparently, he did (I still have flashes of it but no full memory) and then he got down on to his knees and begged me to forgive him and said that he loved me. I blacked out.
The next morning when I woke up, I was not sure what had happened still. The bruises were more prominent, and I quickly got dressed to cover them. My mom had called the police and I was scared. I thought my mom was mad at me because I had taken her medicine.
When the police arrived, I admitted nothing. In fact, I texted Jackson and asked for his help. He said he was out of town, but I could go to his mom’s house and she would give me the key to the art studio, and I could stay there that night. So, I went to her house, got the blow-up mattress and some leftover food, and went to the art studio.
That night for some reason, I got the strength to leave.
Jackson and I argued by text. I kept confronting him about what he did and then I fell asleep. At around 6:00 AM the next day I called my friend and told her what happened and then I called my mom and told her where I was and asked if she could come and get me. I told her it was not OK to drive. She said she was coming to get me and asked if I would I go to the Rape Crisis Center.
Hours later, I was in the emergency room and I was talking to a psychiatrist via Skype and when I told him how much Xanax I had taken, he said it was a miracle for me to be alive. I remember saying I am here for a reason and this time, I am not going to waste it.
I want to live.
I spent the next four days in the psychiatric ward journaling everything that had happened to me. I knew when I get out, I needed to report him to the police. I knew he was dangerous.
I was released from the hospital January 27th. Once I was released and turned on my phone, I saw Jackson had called me 84 times.
My nightmare was starting all over again but this time, I was not scared.
Two days later I had finally mustered up the courage to go to the police. I had raging text messages, pictures of my bruising, phone messages of him screaming and yelling and crazy social media posts of Jackson being threatening.
The detective assigned to my case was Amanda Adams. I was wearing a maxi dress. I lifted my dress to show her the bruises on my leg and the first thing she told me was “that doesn't look like a rape bruise.”
I was shocked and then she continued to interrogate me. After three hours of questioning she asked if she could look at my phone and I said yes, she saw that he had called me 84 times, in fact he was still calling while I was being interviewed by her.
She saw his social media posts and the text messages and then she asked me if I would do a control call. A control call is a phone call that is recorded and can be used as evidence in a court of law. She said because I had no memory of what happened the last night, how did I know that I was raped? She also did not believe he raped me the first time either. She stated that if he had sodomized me, I would have had a lot of blood. She was very demeaning and belittling the entire time. I agreed to call and told her that I would need him to believe that I want to be with him again and this is going to be difficult for me.
I sat facing the wall when I called him, so I did not have to look at anybody. I also told the detective ahead of time that he would never use the word rape. My advocate pointed out that there is no way it could be consensual if I were drugged and I was suicidal. I said I could get him to admit that. Once he was on the phone, I asked him: “why did you have anal sex with me? You know I would have never done that.”
He said he was sorry for doing that to me. He said the only reason he had anal sex with me was because he was mad. I said, “mad at what?” and he said “mad that you had tried to commit suicide.” I reiterated the fact that we had talked about anal sex and I said it would have to be for a very special occasion and he said he “I know” and apologized again.
While this was going on the detective handed me a piece of paper and it said to ask him what happened the second night. I asked him if he had anal sex with me the second time I tried to kill myself and he said “no, only regular sex.” He went on to say that he was not in the state, and he was on the run because he had broken a guy’s jaw and three of his ribs. He said the police were looking for him. He then went on to say he was being evicted from the art studio. I couldn’t stay on the phone any longer and told him my mom had walked in the door and I was going to outpatient therapy and I would call him when I could.
After I hung up the phone and turned around, the detective had a big smile on her face, and I knew that she finally believed me. I broke down crying for the first time. I asked her if I could hug her and she said yes. She told me that they would notify me before they contact him, they would let me know if he was at the police station and they would let me know if he was released from the police station.
The next day I woke up to my phone ringing repeatedly. I looked at it and it was Jackson. Then the texting started happening. He was asking why I called the police. I freaked out and was scared he would be on his way over. I called my advocate right away who in turn called the police station to find out what was going on. They had contacted Jackson and asked him to come in for an interview at 1:00 PM and he had agreed. They never called to tell me in advance. I was scared he was going to come over to my house and left immediately to meet my advocate to put a restraining order/ injunction in place.
Four hours later at the courthouse I had not heard from the detective, so I sent her a text message asking if Jackson was still there and she text me back no he has been released. I picked up my phone and called her and she answered. I asked what happened and the first thing she told me was, “he was so nice, and he was so scared!”
How could she say something like that to me? She then told me, “he did not get the posh interview treatment you did.” And she told me I needed to go to the art studio and remove my belongings. I was exhausted and asked if she had talked to the owner of the art studio via text after I hung up. The next day I woke up to detective Amanda leaving me a text message again saying to get my belongings out of the studio. She would have the police escort me there to remove them. It needed to be done right away.
I called the owner of the building and asked if the police had contacted him. He said no. I filled him in, and he said Jackson needed to get out his belongings immediately. I followed up with another text to the detective who didn’t reply. I quickly learned she was not on my side.
After the restraining order was issued, Jackson violated it immediately.
He started by vandalizing my car, then sitting in my car and leaving cigarettes in there, so I knew he was there. He would move my driver seat all the way forward or all the way back. He hacked into my email accounts, into my job websites. He would fail job assessments of prospective employers. I filed police reports and finally was advised to get cameras, but I didn’t have the money.
The Injunction Hearing
I had a court hearing for the injunction to be finalized. I was assigned two amazing attorneys pro bono. I walked into court with my attorneys, my advocate, and my mother. This was the first time I had to face him after the last attack, and I was petrified. I had tons of evidence of the abuse I had suffered from him.
The judge cleared the courtroom for my trial. She then asked me what I wanted, and I asked for a five-year injunction for sexual violence. The judge then looked at Jackson and asked what he had to say, and he pled no contest. The judge paused to looked at my paperwork and you could see the disgust come over her face and she granted my injunction.
My attorney then asked the judge to have Jackson to take domestic violence classes and when the judge asked him to do so he flippantly said “I have been talking to the police on a daily basis and they have told me if I did anything wrong I would already have been arrested . I am not taking domestic violence classes.”
I did not care. I was just relieved that my injunction was granted. Everyone with me noticed him texting the entire time while he was in the courtroom. After I left the courtroom, I called my detective to let her know that I was awarded my injunction.
The detective immediately let me know that he had been texting her asking for advice. I was blown away. I wrote a letter to her, letting her know how her behavior affected me. Instead of the detective calling me up to discuss anything, she had her Sargent call and yell at me saying it was inappropriate.
About a week after the injunction was granted, I woke up and walked out my bedroom door that lead to a private deck that had an 8 ft fence surrounding. Laid in a line was a rat with his head pulled off.
You could see where Jackson had jumped the fence as it had pull off part of the fence. The police came out to file a report and took this one very seriously and recommended I get cameras. This time my mom decided it would be necessary. They asked if I had his address and phone number and said they were going to pay him a visit. I called the detective and she never responded.
I told a friend about the rat and she said in the south when someone leaves a dead rat behind, we call that the death rattle. Shortly after people started calling me to see if I was okay because of a post Jackson had put on his Facebook wall. His behavior was escalating. Thank goodness my relocation money arrived shortly afterwards.
Assistant District Attorney
My first meeting with the Assistant DA happened relatively quickly after the interview with Jackson. The Detective had called me and said someone was a no-show and wanted to know if I could meet up earlier. I called my advocate who was scheduled to meet me at the police station, and she said she could not be there until the time we had planned. I no longer trusted my detective and was scared to go without my advocate, so I took my time getting there.
I arrived approximately 10 minutes prior to my advocate and requested that she be allowed into the interview room once she arrived. The detective promised that would not be a problem and she even informed the woman up front that she would be coming.
My meeting with the assistant DA was beyond demeaning. He asked me about my suicide note. He asked me in a way which was almost laughing at me asking, “so you left this guy that assaulted you everything that you own…does that sound about right?”
And both the detective and the assistant DA smiled me at me in condescending way. I remember stuttering and saying, “I do not remember a whole lot of what happened and what was said in my suicide letter. “
The DA stated that he had the note. Jackson had brought it to the police station, the interview continued by them asking about something abusive and then was followed up with, “but you didn’t call the police.” I was in complete shock. I think I sat there with my mouth hanging open, trying to figure out how to explain to him why I didn’t report him until now.
At one point my advocate had arrived and when the women cracked the door to let us know, the detective slammed it shut and said “NO!” I felt trapped, scared, and traumatized all over again. All I wanted to do was leave.
I had brought with me the clothes I was wearing the first night I was raped and urinated in and the t-shirt his mother had given me in a brown paper grocery bag. At the end of the conversation I asked if they wanted to keep the contents. The DA laughed and said, “oh there's no doubt that you had sex; we just don't know whether or not it was consensual. “
I came back with “did you listen to the controlled call?” - to which the DA responded “no.”
Truth finder
I knew in my heart this was not the first time Jackson had done this to a woman. The police were treating him so nicely and we had so much evidence and I could not understand what was going on. So, I did a criminal background check.
He had assault and battery charges, two which were felonies and the last one included strangulation. What was going on? Jackson had told me that has ex-girlfriends’ mother was a high powered attorney and she would never let the father of her grandkid go to jail.
I remember one time he did not have enough money to pay the rent for the studio, so a deal was made she would pay the rent for him but in exchange he would have no contact with his ex or his child for the entire summer. That memory came creeping back into my brain and I knew then and his ex had been abused like me and her mother did what she could to keep Jackson away.
I've always wondered if the reason he never was never arrested is because he willingly let go of having time with his son for his freedom but I will never probably ever know the truth of what really happened and why he is still walking around today.
Nicole
After I was granted my injunction one of the first phone calls I made was to Nicole, the girl Jackson was dating when he met me. I knew in my gut she had not been abused the way that I had but I still felt horrible for what I did to her. I also wanted to warn her in case he should come back into her life.
Our conversations were only via email and texting. She was terribly upset that he was seeing me while living with her. I told her she dodged a bullet and gave her details of my abuse. I felt we were bonding over both being hurt by someone so evil. Several months later I found out she had been back with Jackson and was telling him everything I was telling her. This betrayal was painful.
She had seen his record of abuse, as she had seen my court order from the judge, and she was a women's right activist who served on the board of a gallery that supported women’s empowerment. I must remind myself when I question her being with him and my feelings of betrayal: if she had come to me during the time Jackson love bombed me would I have let him go? I do not know. She is a victim, not my enemy.
Jurors don’t understand trauma bonding
I did make my way up to a Senior District Attorney who specialized in domestic and sexual violence. I think the only reason I did, is because I did not give up. I fought via email, and with the help of local state representatives.
Once I got to talk with the Senior District Attorney, he explained to me that to win my case he would have to win over 100% of the jury. If one juror found Jackson not guilty, the decision would be in Jackson’s favor. Therefore, my case would not be going to trial. He explained, jurors do not understand trauma bonding. They will not understand why I never called the police earlier. I to this day have a hard time understanding the insane trauma-bond I had during this relationship.
I am going to do something good with my experience. I will advocate for others who will follow in my footsteps. This means educating.
Describing a trauma bond to someone who has never experienced this type of abuse is like describing a color to a person who has never had vision.
Adrenaline and fight or flight
While I was in the hospital, I felt like I was constantly on a huge surge of adrenaline. l felt it important to write down everything that I could remember with regards to being assaulted by Jackson. My mind was all over the place and things were very fragmented and fogy. The adrenaline kept me writing until I filled up an entire journal. There were no feelings. I was so disassociated from everything.
We speak the same language
One night they had a come to do an AA speaker meeting, and I made a point of saying, “I always date the sickest people out there” to people who were at the table with me. I said “watch, I am going to pick a guy before anyone speaks, who I would choose to be my sponsor.” The gentleman I selected spoke last and the first thing that he said was I cannot stay sober, in fact I was drinking and using an hour before I came to this meeting. I remember saying, “see, I instinctually go to sick people.”
I now am starting to understand that my life had groomed me to be with someone like Jackson or that are unstable. I remember an old saying: If you are in a foreign land in a crowded pub, if there is another one there that speaks English you will find him/her.
You are drawn to people who speak your language.
Trauma
I have since learned that everybody experiences and processes trauma differently. My memories are still becoming clearer as time goes on. I realize that I can only process what has happened to me when my mind knows it can do so without creating more damage.
I am not sure if on January 20th I was blacked out the whole time or if it was something so horrendous that I am not able to process it at this point of my life. I am hoping it is the former.
I realized how stifled and controlled my thinking had become from this relationship. Things that are only common sense today, I did not question. For example, when Jackson said that he had just had vaginal sex with me on January 20th, at that time, I believed him.
Today is a different story.
I realize he had an opportunity to do whatever he wanted to do to me because I was unconscious, so why wouldn’t he have not strangled and sodomized me. I had a sore throat and trouble speaking for months and it never occurred this is because he probably strangled me. I also thought that he had not done it because the detective told me he didn’t do it because I didn’t have any marks on my neck.
The idea that if there are no marks you weren't really hurt is another myth to dispel (see here) . The detective told me that I would have had marks on my neck if I was strangled and I believed her, even though I knew he had done it to me before and he didn’t leave marks. I knew if I talked for long periods of time, I lost my voice and I would be having a CT scan to see if there is any damage. I was in a hospital and I had a knot the size of an egg on my head, yet no one checked my head for injuries.
I also found out suicide is common among people who are experiencing domestic and sexual violence. I was made fun of by the people I trusted specifically the assistant DA and the detective that mocked my suicide letter when questioning me about it. It was the ultimate betrayal of trusting people who were supposed to be there for help.
Immediately following my admission of what had happened to my mom, friends, and the police I found that I got extreme anxiety laying in my bed. At first, I thought this to be true because Jackson had strangled me in my bed. I had to have a blow-up mattress in the living room so I could move to a different bed. Later when I moved, I was still waking up with panic just being in a bed. I later put together that is how my major trauma occurred while asleep and laying down.
Trauma bonding
After I came forward about my experience with Jackson, everyone, and I mean everyone, asked me why did I not call the police? I did not have an answer and it still fast rating to me to this day as how I had gotten so off the beaten path in this relationship.
Trauma bonding is something that is so difficult to explain to a person that has never experienced. In my therapy group I asked, “will this bond with my assailant ever go away. Why am I so bonded to this person who hurt me so much?” One of the therapists said, “maybe it was the intensity of the love and the hate quest.” It struck me as accurate.
There are days when I look back at the relationship with melancholy and miss the loving part of Jackson and then there are days when I feel nothing at all. However, at this time in my life, there isn't a day that goes by or he doesn't enter my head at some point in time.
I have noticed with the women in my support group this is something that they share with me and it is something we are trying to understand ourselves. I think it is important that the police, the detectives, judges, and therapists understand.
How do you put something into words that you cannot understand yourself? How do you explain these unexplainable feelings?
The only reason my assailant is walking around today is because a jury would not understand.
When we go to people that are supposed to be there to help us such as the police and the DA and they don’t believe us, it is time to educate them on what trauma looks like.