“A number of years ago I tried leaving him and moved into my parents’ house. I was alone for three months and felt that I missed him. I actually felt sorry for having left him. My dependence on him was limitless. I thought I would be able to change him. After all, he was the one who chased me, who asked me to marry him. So I agreed to return and the year that followed was simply a honeymoon – no abuse, no violence. He was extremely careful. But then our financial situation deteriorated and the beatings returned.
“My worst nightmare was on Shabbat. He, the children and I closed in together in the house. We can’t travel anywhere. And the Shabbat table always provided him with a reason to go wild – this food is not what he likes, the other is not cooked to his taste, too many salads, not enough salads, why this dip not the other and the challahs are over/under baked. In his rage he would overturn the table, curse me and then not allow me to use the bathroom the entire Shabbat or time me. If I stayed a second longer than he allowed, he would order me out. It was to ‘teach me’ to be a mensch.
“One Shabbat morning he couldn’t find his glasses – he put them on top of a high bookcase and forgot that he did. Since Aba needs his glasses, he ordered all of us to search everywhere. This was not a simple search. Doors banging shut, screaming, yelling and threatening. In a rage he overturned closets and bookcases, smashed glasses and broke furniture. I stood by the wall, terrified, with two little children crying hysterically and continued looking for his glasses. He came over and spat full in my face. When he ordered me to go and wash my face, I refused. He then began to kick me until I collapsed to the floor in agony. He then picked up his Tallit and went out to shul. I dressed the children and we all proceeded to join him as if nothing at all happened.
“What finally opened my eyes were my children. I was looking at my oldest who was 9 at the time and didn’t see a child. What I saw was a robot, a child under severe stress, very quiet, very frightened. One day my 5-year-old asked for a drink. I happened to be occupied at the moment with something and the child said very earnestly: ‘If you don’t give me to drink this minute, I’ll destroy your whole kitchen.’ I heard him repeat his father’s words and at that moment I understood that my children have become part-and-parcel of the entire sickness.
“I contacted a social worker I knew and told her everything and that I’m ready to run away from home. Unfortunately, Bat Melech had no room at that moment; I was told that I would have to wait three weeks.
“I began to prepare for our escape. In a small backpack I put the children’s medical records, important documents and all sorts of small items which my children needed. I began to separate the laundry, my husband’s separate from the rest of us. I filled plastic bags with our clothes and when he wasn’t looking, I threw them out of the window. Later, I would go into the yard to retrieve these bags and a friend of mine stashed them in her house, though she didn’t know anything about my plans to run away from home. In this manner, within three weeks, I emptied all of the closets. I always prepared his clothing so he never opened any cabinets or closets. Thus, he never noticed anything amiss.
