As an advocate of parental alienation I walk a fine line with gender issues between father’s rights and also mother’s rights. The real issue at hand is parental rights but people are so wrapped up in the who or what to blame they forget that people come from different walks of life and various circumstances.  How does one woman tell the story of her life to help true victims without it crossing the lines of offense? The story of truth sets some free while others use it as a line of defense for blame. I have wanted to share a story for years but have been silent, love me or hate me there is a story that walks outside of the boundaries the movement sets in stone. How do we become stronger without tying some of these issues together? Many women and men make up lies to win a battle but what happens to the individual that falls in the cracks and has a truthful story of abuse.

In 1991 at the age of 16 I married a young 18 yr old man. In my own mind I believed this would be forever and a life that I dreamed of with happiness. My years prior were filled with abuse and I fell captive to the illusion of love that my husband professed. The silent beginning that only few know about is that the abuse had already occurred prior to our wedding date. The incidents were forgiven quickly because at least he would tell me he was sorry or that he couldn’t live without me. Those words were more than my father would tell me so I believed the words streaming out of his mouth to my ears.

The first two years of our marriage I wore a blindfold to truth and allowed the punching bag sessions to continue. The emptiness I felt as a person was clear to others who knew me. In this time period he was also indulging himself with another woman that he never laid a hand on. I found out I was pregnant with my son and thought this would be a stepping stone for change. It was defiantly a stepping stone because his mistress was also pregnant.  I can remember wondering if I did everything he asked would it all change.

The years went on and the progression of abuse became a ritual in my everyday life. The fighting was constant and I left on several occasions to only return after the charm of change was lingering in my ears. His words became harsher and the restrictions were like a half way house. Cell phones were a convince many people delighted in but to me it was a constant communication of “Where are you, what are you doing?” 

My daughter was a new addition and I was often baffled when I was hit during my pregnancy. More time had passed and the physical abuse was less but another abuse was occurring to take its place. I would almost find myself wishing the physical and mental abuse was the only aspects I had to experience.  The pain of being raped by a person who tells you they love you is a confusing time. The battle of self confidence became a major contention in my mind. It broke me emotionally on several occasions and only after the act would I hear the apologizes then the excuse, you can’t rape a spouse.  I spent time trying to understand what was wrong with me.

I can recollect a time during a family graduation in the past three years where I went to the event and he decided to stay home. I was with his family members and because there was a lie band I did not hear my phone ring. He came all the way out there around midnight because he wanted me to be home to tend to him. He was angry because I didn’t answer my  cell phone and I paid for that one.  I walked on egg shells even with his own family events.

Our children were a negotiation tool for his selfish needs.  He rarely ever carried out the duties of a father unless he was in the mood. He would have more interest of looking me in the bedroom than having a catch with his son or baking with his daughter. I longed for participation with us as a family instead I believed an illusion of what I thought it should be.

This is only a small fragment of the 18 yrs of abuse that I survived. I fell for a life of self imposed illusions to live day to day.  My illusion fractured a healthy mind set to realize that he wouldn’t change I had to.  I allowed myself to believe this distorted fairytale for 18 years. His negative terminology generated raw emotion of pain and the lack of worth as a person. I have struggled to find who I am without him telling me who I should be.  I have been beaten down in many ways but have found the strength to stand back up and find myself.  Dan still continues to hold my son at ransom; he allows negative behavior to continue with complete disrespect to me. I’m told it’s between you and him, meanwhile my sons screaming at me in his father’s presence. He sits our daughter down for a five hour “chat” to tell her not to listen to me. He cries in front of her using guilt and saying how I left them all, my children are used as a ransom in his ploy to win them over after years of his neglect.

 Dan Chrzanowski  stole my dignity and years of my life but now I have taken my life back to leave a greater legacy to my children.  A legacy of what love should be

^{Corinthians 13}

⁴Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

 8Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. 11When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. 12Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

 13And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

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