I ended up at the women’s shelter. I was afraid to go in, but I knew I needed time away from the manipulation and abuse of my father. I met with a domestic violence counselor, and I told her everything. I mention everything from the sexual abuse, to the physical, to the controlling nature of what I was going through. I didn’t realize how bad it was. It’s been my normal for so long, I grew up in it. I was talking like it wasn’t as horrific as people were telling me. The reactions were shock, disgust, and something else, but I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t want pity. I wanted my dad to stop controlling me.
The counselor was asking a lot of questions that seemed difficult to answer, I didn’t want to “get my dad in trouble” but I was completely honest at the same time. I was given a bed, and I was allowed to pick out some spare clothes. I told them I still was working third shift, and I would need to go to work the next night. Doors locked automatically at a certain time, but I was allowed to come and go as long as I was back in time for curfew.
A few days later, I went and got another tattoo. I needed this one. It would be the start of my healing artwork, part of my story. I was getting lyrics tattooed on my ribs, and I was telling the artist that I had just escaped my abuser, and I needed something to remind me that the pain is real, but I will heal.
I’m in a small room, no exit, and all of a sudden, I hear my name being spoken. I start to instantly shake, and I know a panic attack is starting. I turn my head to the artist, just as my dad came back to the room, and I whispered “Thats him! Thats him!! Please don’t leave me alone with him”. I was so afraid my dad would drag me out of the chair by my hair, and start beating me, but he didn’t. I could hear the anger in his voice, but he was almost begging me, “Come back home Tink, we can talk about things. I haven’t heard from you in a few days, please come home! I love you!”.
The tattoo artist never left my side, and he was professional… “Hey man, I’m in the middle of a tattoo, I can’t work on her if she’s moving, can she call you later?”
I was so thankful for the interference because I couldn’t breathe. I was panicking and trying so hard not to let the tears flow. I told my dad “I’ll call you later dad, I just need some time, I love you too”. He said OK, and he mentioned I don’t forget to call him. He sounded desperate, and scared, and I didn’t realize why at the time.
After my dad left, the owner locked up the shop, and waited for my dad to leave. He sat out there for a few minutes. The artist asked if I was ok, and I said no, I need a minute. He very kindly allowed me to take a break, go through my panic attack, and I called the women’s shelter to let them know what happened.
I said, “My dad found me! He tracked the GPS in my car to my current location”. She asked if I was safe, and I said for now, and they wanted me to come back to the shelter as soon as possible. I was given the option to get a restraining order, and I said yes. We would start the process as soon as I got back. I had smoked about three cigarettes, in the very back of the tattoo shop, until I was calm enough to finish my tattoo. The guys were very understanding and patient with me, and I thanked them, and apologized for the drama. They were ready to protect me if needed. (This was my “regular” shop I would go to for tattoos).
After finishing the tattoo, I was afraid to leave the shop, but I was told to call the shelter and let them know I was heading back. It was about an hour or more drive from where I was. I got back to the shelter safely and checked in with the advocate and counselor on how to start the process of the restraining order, and what to expect from it.
I wasn’t completely sure but was convinced when they mentioned my kid sister’s safety. I truly wanted to believe he would never hurt her, but I couldn’t be sure. The doubt was there. I was given a packet to fill out, his information, my information, are there weapons on the premises he resides (There was, a lot). Then came the hard part. A detailed account of what happened, what I went through, why I need the restraining order, and if I feared for my life.
I absolutely feared for my life, but I felt invalidated for some reason. I would write down everything I could about my abuse and give the packet to the advocate who would then take it to the courthouse. I would be contacted by a state trooper to later tell her my story.
I would also have to let my place of work know about the restraining order once it was granted. I tried so hard not to let my personal life cross over into my work life… It was nearly impossible, especially since my name would pop up when his was entered in the system. (maiden name at the time was same as dad)
During the first few weeks of being at the woman’s shelter, I was still getting messages, texts, and phone calls… Family members who didn’t know what was going on were concerned and was trying to convince me to go back home. I decided to call my paternal grandmother one night. She practically raised me. I loved her so much, and if anyone would believe me it would be her. Or so I thought.
I called, she asked me if I was ok, and why I had run away from home. I told her, “Gramma, I don’t know how to say this in an easier way, but I left because dad has been physically and sexually abusing me, I was on the verge of suicide, and I had to leave.” I have never in my life heard my grandmother cuss vulgarly. She said, “You’re a f***ing liar! Don’t you ever talk to me again”. And she hung up. In that instant, I was shocked, and I literally felt a piece of my heart snap, it took my breath away. I was so shocked because I thought if anyone would believe me, she would support me. Instead, she completely turned on me, disowned me, and shattered my heart. I trusted her.
I was afraid to continue, but I had to make another phone call, I had to try at least one more close family member from my dad’s side. I called my aunt. She answered, had me on speaker, and asked if I was ok. She wanted to know what was going on. I told her the same thing I told my grandmother, and there was a very long pause. I held my breath. I was so scared I would be berated and called a liar again. I grew up with these people, they knew me, I wouldn’t lie!
I hear my uncle take a deep breath, and he said “We believe you Cassie! We believe you!” I released the breath I was holding and began sobbing, and I said “You do?! You believe me? You don’t hate me?” I was relieved but unsure, would they turn against me too? My uncle (rest his soul) said they loved me very much. They told me they were proud of me, and that they supported me one hundred percent, I was so grateful for that. I cried so hard; it was a release.
Apparently, they believed there was something going one for a long time, they knew about the physical abuse, they were the ones who called about us being starved when we were younger… I never would have thought…
I would also find my younger sisters contact information and I told her I left dads. He had been abusing me, physically and sexually. It was hard to admit that to her. I didn’t expect her reply when she said, “Why do you think I left Cass. I went through the same thing”. I was angry and sad, because as her older sister I should have protected her. Also, why didn’t she tell me? It was coming out all at once, the dam was finally bursting. I knew I had to be the one to finally speak up. This had to end!
Shortly after I talked to my paternal family members, I would start to wonder about my maternal family. Was what my dad told me true? I remembered that a few years back, a few different people from my maternal family had contacted me on Facebook. I didn’t know who they were, or how I was related to them at the time. One night I was on the computer while at the shelter, and I was going through my past messages, trying to find the one I thought I saw, but I didn’t recognize the name. I found another name, and I felt led to reach out to this family member first.
It would begin a much-awaited answer to many prayers…