I left him on December 28, 1991.

To this day I do not know who the Nancy was that left. I felt like I was in a movie.

He was not there. I saw someone packing a bag. I saw that person closing the door behind her, suitcase in hand. I went to my mother’s house.

When I arrived unannounced that Sunday evening, Mom opened the door and before she could say a word, I said, “Have I got a story for you”.

That week I did two things. First, I found myself an attorney. And next….I found a therapist.

For the first time in my life I was on my own and scared witless of him.

Staying in an abusive marriage was difficult enough but leaving was even more frightening.

Once I left, the reign of terror began in earnest.

Not just against me, but my mother and my co-workers too. I was constantly harassed by him at work.

At that time I was the only female executive officer at the company and he began to call my male counterparts and threaten to kill them - and me.

I was so frightened that I hired a bodyguard to protect my mother and myself.

 Thankfully I could afford protection.

Many women in similar situations do not have the financial means to protect themselves adequately. We hear about them every day.

He had moved out of the apartment we were living in and told my attorney that he was living out of state.

I had not heard from him for a few weeks and I finally felt comfortable enough to move back to the apartment we had shared. 

That was a bad decision.

About 2 nights later I heard the door opening. He was in a rage.

He quickly came across the room and threw me against a closet door. I landed on my back. The next day I noticed the door had been cracked. My back was bruised and black and blue for weeks.

Then he picked me up and threw me on the couch and got on top of me - he started to choke me.

His hands continued to choke me and I closed my eyes and thought “this is it, I am going to die”. 

I don’t know why but, it finally stopped and he ran out of the house.

I sat on the corner of the couch not moving for a long while. Then, like a robot, I began to clean up the mess created by his rage.

He had thrown wine bottles against the walls, so I cleaned the walls and swept up the glass and when I was finished I went to bed with a carving knife in my hand.

I left all of the house houselights on.

Soon thereafter I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.