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Dear Marilyn,
(I don’t actually know if your name is Marilyn, but I wanted to give you a name, because you’re a person and you matter).
I met you on the train tonight. You sat down next to me and then your partner made you move so he could sit next to you. I could see him being unkind to you and making you cry. I saw you try to stand up to him and the way he made you shrink. I could see him become worse and I saw that other man, Kevin (I’m going to call him Kevin, even though I’m not sure what his real name was…) watch what was going on and stand up and get ready to intervene. And I got ready to intervene too.
And suddenly Kevin was asking your partner if he “was alright mate?” and your partner was telling him to “f*ck off and not get involved.” I stood up and asked you if you were okay. You said you weren’t and that you were scared and wanted to get away. I asked you to come and stand with me, but even though you wanted to, your partner wouldn’t let you. I asked if you wanted me to call the police and you said you did, then your partner was calling me a “f*cking………” and I was ringing the police and stopping the train and your partner was whispering and suddenly you wanted me to stop phoning the police and tried to sort everything out. I know you were being brave. I know you were trying to protect yourself and me by calming him down. I know you were trying your best to make everything okay again.
Then we all got off the train and Kevin was really kind to me and didn’t leave until the police arrived. And your partner was shouting at me, and you were trying to calm him down and telling the police that “it was just talking”. And I saw your black eye under your make up and I saw how he hurts you.
Then the police said you didn’t want to do anything about your partner and I went on a different train home to you and then that was it.
Well Marilyn I wanted to tell you that you are really really brave. That I know you were trying your best to make everything okay. I’m sorry that when you got home he probably hurt you a lot, and says it’s your fault. But Marilyn, it’s not your fault. It’s his fault. He chose to hurt you and that is not okay. I know I couldn’t stop him and that the police didn’t arrest him, and that he’s done this to you before.
I know you might think I’m a nosy stranger, getting involved in your business and making things worse. But please, please, please, know that I tried to help because you are so so important. That you are valuable and worth so much. Kevin and I didn’t get involved to make your life difficult, we stood up and spoke out to show you what your partner was doing is wrong. And maybe nobody has ever shown you that before.
I know we will probably never see each other again, but I wanted to write to you and tell you that you matter, you’re important and anytime you need me to, I’ll stand up for you again.
Love Natalie x
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Today I was sat tweeting in Costa while my phone charged and suddenly I heard a woman’s voice slightly raised on the table next to me. I turned to see a man with his back to me and a woman on the other side of the table, talking to him,
“You’ve hit me before! What you want me to stop talking so loud?! Don’t you think people should know what you’ve done?”
Suddenly my entire attention became focused on the table next to me and the interaction of the two people sitting there. What could I do? How could I let this woman know that there’s help out there? That what he's doing to her is wrong? I decided to wait, and pray for an opportunity to speak to her.
And as I sat there waiting and praying, all I could do was listen to the conversation unfolding next to me.
Her: “Why do you keep doing this to me? You said you’d stop drinking! You keep doing all these things to me”
Him: “I came here expecting you were going to apologise to me, and you’re trying to make it all my fault!”
He kept employing the “quiet voice” tactic; keeping his voice low, so she sounds like a hysterical woman to everyone else, while he whispers offensive names and other nasty things under his breath.
Her: “I just want to fix things, I know it’s not always you, it is partly me…”
Him: “You’re always making it worse, why do you make it worse…?!”
I sat there, praying and asking others on twitter to pray, that I would have the opportunity to speak to her. At one point she got up, ready to leave, but he convinced her to sit back down. I packed up my bag and wrote a note with my name, email, address, phone number and the details of Lundy Bancroft’s book "Why Does He Do That?"
She was so articulate and so good at putting across her point. And yet he constantly undermined her.
So I waited and prayed and prayed and waited. And eventually she stood up to leave. He stayed sat down and she walked away, I stood up and gave her my note and told her I might be able to help, that she could contact me. The man stayed sat down and didn’t follow her so I walked down the stairs and said to her,
“I work with domestic abuse, I might be able to help. My ex-husband was abusive…I’ve written down a book that might help you on that note.”
She looked at me and quickly said, “Oh no! It’s not domestic abuse! It’s just unresolved issues, that’s all!” Then she hurried off.
I walked towards my train, heartbroken again by the reality of how men can break women so totally, without consequence or challenge. Painfully aware of how I once was a woman who refused to accept my ex-husband was abusive. The sadness I felt was heavy and consuming.
And yet, even in that pain and sadness, I praised God that I was able to give her some information. That an opportunity was provided and just maybe this opportunity will enable the woman to move forward. I will continue to believe there is hope, that she can be restored and freed.
I got home, my heart still heavy, and began to read with hope again rising the story of how Carl Beech and Dean Gray had challenged an abusive man on the underground; I was reminded that there are men and women across the UK and beyond challenging violence against women, bringing freedom and hope to women and children. If each one of us sees every opportunity as a chance to make a difference, we will do just that. If each one of us doesn’t just stand by when we hear, see or learn of abuse and violence, we will make a difference!
I happened to get a text from a friend just now and even though she didn’t know about this situation she had sent me the following verse:
“But thanks be to God who gives us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ, therefore my beloved be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord knowing that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.” [1 Corinthians 15:57-58]
If you pray, please do pray for the woman I met today, let her and any children she has find hope and freedom and for the man who is choosing to continue abusing her to be held accountable and challenged, knowing that nothing we do for God is in vain!
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February 2005
Sometimes I wonder why I’m here
Why I don’t just leave or die or just be
But then I realise it’s ‘cause I’m yours
You wouldn’t have it another way
You’re not really mine
Though you aim to please
You don’t really care
But you know you do
I cant make sense of myself
Don’t worry,
But you won’t
You care about me
But not about them
Those feelings that make me the person I am
And if I could, I’d move on
But that won’t ever be
Because you’re not really mine
Though you aim to please
You don’t really care but you know I do
You f*ck me and with me
And love me and make it
But do you care
I mean really care?
Of course you do, and don’t
When it’s too much
To bother with and stay waking for
You’d rather be in slumbers
So sweet and delightful
Than being a caring person of love
I know you don’t mean it
And that’s past your capabilities
But it’d be great if you’d think
For more than one moment
About things like my feelings
And the reason for those
The pain, it hurts me
Sometimes and always
Whenever you F*ck me or with me or near me
Not that you do that
You can’t anymore
The guilt is too much
It’s not my pain or my scars
‘Oh the scars!’ you say
What are they?
You know what I mean
My feelings and needings
And wantings and hurts
But they don’t matter the time has gone by
And no more confusings
And hurtings and pain
Because you are asleep now
And I am alone……………..
…….Good morning my love
Good morning my dear
Won’t this be a nice day
And a nice year
We’ll have so much fun and laughter, no needs
And those things are forgotten
What things, in deed
Nothing
Just love and niceness and us
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July 2008
Everything’s getting too much
I feel unloved
You feel unloved
What’s the point in all of this
I love you, yes
You love me?
I want not to feel bad
But that’s not happening
Because you’ll still do it how ever I feel
Because it’s too good to stop
Too good to stop my crying eyes
Or not if I shout and scream and ball
I don’t want to
I just want you to say no
Knowing the hurt it puts me through
But there I go
Wanting too much
I’m sure we’ll be fine
I’m sure it will work
Or maybe it won’t
I can’t be sure anymore
But it’s ok
Because what you say
And what you mean
Is I love you
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April 2005
I don’t like this life
Full of pain and strife
I want to escape from a world
Where my brain is twizzled and twirled
Until I am left confused and lost
I want to leave no matter what the cost
A price so high, it will hurt so much
A daughter without a mothers touch
A husband without a wife’s love
No entry into heaven above
I want to want to live
I want to be able to forgive
But I don’t know if I can
I don’t even know where it began
But even if I did I don’t think it would matter
Because in the end everything I do seems to shatter
So I’m left wanting to die
It isn’t really important the what’s or the why
Just that I couldn’t save me
And neither could you
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February 2005
Empty smile upon my face
Empty words and an empty embrace
Empty of feeling and void of all hope
Losing the will to carry on and to cope
My soul has been blackened by actions of mine
My days are all night, the sun doesn’t shine
Insincere gratitude and no ability to thank
Not since the day the real me got too heavy and sank
Vacant expression and vacant of care
Seems nobody minds my blank, desolate stare
Expressionless words said to please those who want them
Insipid gestures given through boredom
Valueless morals and a dishonest prayer
Sinking and drowning in hopeless despair
Ignorant opinions and ignorant knowledge
I might as well mash my brains into porridge
Rhetorical talk of propaganda and rumor
No laughter, no smile, no sense of humor
Forgotten promises and destructive advice
A hunger that no morsel can entice
A purposeless life with unsatisfactory outcomes
To the reaper that beckons me, I might as well succumb
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May 2007
I look at the ceiling seeing a small crack
I hear in the distance someone hurting a lot
I stare at the crack as it slowly creeps out
Hearing distant grunts and terrible pain
The spidery lines of the cracks are growing
I count them as the sounds grow louder
Quickly they become an uncountable amount
The sounds have dulled but their pain intensified
As plaster dust falls onto my face
Crevices, fissures and chinks open above
While the sound of hurt can no longer be quieted
As the ceiling falls in pieces smashing against my body
The man I married gets up and starts to redress