Leana's Story

Her eyes glistened like two flawless emeralds as she spoke, calmly, evenly without the type of gestures, hand movements or dramatic flair you would expect from such a royal and glamorous looking woman.  In another situation she would be on a movie set, on a beach in Costa Rica, flitting around a boisterous party in the Hamptons, laughing in a Cigar bar after work with colleagues,  or laughing loudly with friends over lunch on the Upper East side of New York.  She would hold court.   A gracious queen,  responding to her admirers.  Her accent gave her an air of royalty that comes with beauty.  The same accent on a less attractive and magnetic woman would make her stand out as “immigrant”, mark her as different , not being one  of the original ones who belong….the world is more accepting of beauty.

Without missing a beat she described how her X made her sleep on the floor when she returned from the hospital with a newborn baby.  He would wake her in the night, crawl beside her, remove the baby from her arms and lay it on a cold flat table top.  As it began to cry and root for it’s mother he would silence her.    She would awaken with a jolt in search of the infant, a mother’s instinct never fails.  As she searched wildly, flicking on the lights he would whisper for her to sit back down. 

“Lie down.  Lie still or I will kill you.”

Maternal instincts roared and probed her.  Where was the baby?

She could not help herself and began to get up desperately searching for the infant in the dark.

“I said get back down NOW or I will slit your throat all the way to your belly.  I have that sharp knife in my hand and I will do this so quickly that no one will hear your screams.”

She chanced it and in one movement mounted forward sweeping the crying infant into her arms.  Then she lie down, still with the nursing infant beside her.

The blows to her face shifted the infant away from her body.  Again her mother’s instinct curved her spine around the infant as she held him against her stomach, shoulders in as if to cocoon him into a safety nest.     She only thought, “do not hurt him, please dear God” as his fists banged her ears, chin and sides of her face.  When his fingers clutched her around her throat it was the first time she felt fear.    As her breathing became labored, then frantic she prayed only for the baby’s safety, for his life.  She had long since stopped praying for herself.

She could feel the warmth of sticky fresh blood on her face and chest. 

Suddenly, as though the monster in the room had abruptly turned and left, he spoke.

“I do not want to have to tell your therapist that you are attacking me in the night again.  You have to get your nightmares under control.  The baby deserves a sane mother.  I thought if I slept in another room, let you have the bed to yourself,  you would be ok.  But you are not ok.”

He was lying.  It was called gas lighting.  She had learned this from the other women.  Abusers gas lighted to make their victims doubt their own reality.  They described situations that did not happen the way they describe them.  Made claims that were false.  Said the victim lost or stole something that they had intentionally hidden. 

The act of gas lighting was just another tool in the emotional abuse arsenal.    By making the victim lose faith in their own experience of reality, the victim would begin to doubt herself, over time she would deny her own reality and eventually become as unstable as the abuser claimed.  Knowing this did not comfort the woman.  Instead of feeling relieved by the understanding of what was happening, she felt fueled, propelled by the horror of how satanic the man was.   The man who claimed to love her,  Her husband.  It was his baby.  He treated his baby as an object, a pawn, a tool to torture her. 

Knowing that she loved the child would give him reason to harm it and make her watch. 

She would not allow this.  She would leave.  Take her baby and toddler to safety.  Not look back.  Reclaim their lives.  Give them a chance.

It started out subtlely.  During a whirlwind romance he claimed that she was his soul mate.  He had never had such a meaningful connection with anyone.  In the past he had been misunderstood, the victim of evil women who used him, betrayed him, cheated on him.  He had never met anyone like her, his wife.    She was such an intelligent and multi faceted woman who understood him.  The first six months were bliss.  They had everything in common, shared the same values and ideologies on life and politics, the same interests and passions.   For nearly a year they were perfect together.  At some point he began finding fault with her in minor ways.  He sometimes said she was “crazy” and he was kidding.  She didn’t like it but didn’t want to tarnish something so perfect with such a minor issue.  As time went on his criticisms became more frequent and harsher.  She would try to explain and he would give her the cold shoulder, ignore her, disappear for days at a time not responding to her texts and refusing to speak.  Then he would return apologetic and claiming that he was overly sensitive and just so hurt by her but he knew that it was due to his past.  She would give him another chance and try harder.  Then his criticisms changed to rages.  His days of giving he the silent treatment turned to weeks.  In a rage over his belief that she cheated on him (she did not) he slapped her.  He apologized and the cycle repeated.  He began having anger outbursts and she was afraid to tell anyone.  By the time they were married for one year, and she was pregnant, he was having these rages more often.

It was her inner voice that enabled her to leave.  The empathy, super ego, conscience alive in her, directed her to do what was right for her children.  He had no empathy, no super ego, no conscience and would mark evil on anything or anyone he touched, this included her children.

He had told her friends and family that she was unstable, uneven and should be watched with the children.  He could not work as she was not a good mother and needed supervision .  This is what he told people.  She worked full time to support the small family while he spent his days playing online games and getting stoned.  Her family and friends began to doubt her.  She rarely saw them anymore.  By the time that she got home from work and attended to the babies and home there was not time to call anyone and she was never alone to do so.  He was tired on the weekends so she never saw friends or family.  He was n closer contact with her people then she was.

She had been sleeping on the floor with the new baby for one month when she decided to leave.  He had told her that he would kill her if she ever tried to escape him.   Once a week on her lunch hour she went to the domestic violence counselor.  There she learned that she was a victim of narcissistic sociopathic abuse.  she was not alone, she was unfortunately the one in twelve women who suffered a the hands of a demonic character disordered abuser.

For months she has been documenting each instance of him waking her up in the night and torturing her and the babies.   Each time that he mishandled a baby with the purpose of scaring it and making him cry.  She set up an email account that he was unaware of and sent photos of the bruises, the cuts and the bloody face of her daughter and herself.  She created a safety plan.    Finally when he attacked her in the night she called the police.  They were already expecting her call.  When they arrived he pretended that it was she who was harming him.  He scratched his own face claiming she had wildly attacked him.  The officer could tell by the scratch marks that he had done this and told her that she was in more trouble then she even realized.

She escaped into the night.  Her friend had set up a sofa bed and bassinet for her baby knowing the call would come anytime.  For the first time, as she entered her friend’s home and sipped on tea, she felt no sense of dread or fear.  With her babies asleep beside her and her friends words of support and kindness she knew for the very first time that she was going to be ok.    She was never returning.