1375 Elva Drive | Gallup, NM | 87301 | 505-863-2688
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It's my Story.
by Rhonda Bennett
**Please note: Some pictures can be distrubing to younger children.
My senior year at Thoreau High was finishing strong. I had a free ride by scholarships to attend Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff in Fall of 1996. I was leaving Thoreau knowing that I was MVP in Varsity Volleyball who led the team to state competitions 2 years in a row, a well-liked mascot of the cheerleading squad, graduating Salutatorian and voted Queen of Courts. I figured things would get only better once I left the small town that was always "too small" to be a small town.
I seriously considered myself to be a believing Christian since I had attended our local church since I was around six years old, been baptized, participated in the youth activities and missions and taught the middle schoolers in Sunday school. My family had strong Christian links and most went to revivals nearly every week. I prayed regularly and did devotions, so I knew God was there, somewhere--watching me from heaven. But I never quite understood why certain Christians would excitedly raise up their hands, praising God with huge smiles and would warmly hug other Christians as if they were siblings. I figured that they were faking it, to put on a show to get people to admire them. I felt that a real Christian wouldn't be so outwardly joyful all the time, but would stay respectfully silent and only do whisper praises to God behind closed doors. In my mind, who could be that joyful anyways? They had to be faking it, right?
The years flew by. As I traveled, my connection to God started to fade. I wasn't going to church (my excuse was because I told myself that there were too many cult churches out there and it was better I stay home and read my Bible) and I definitely didn't mingle with other Christians either. Of course, I ended up doing all the "bad things" that I was warned about in Sunday school. I didn't try to witness to any of my political punk friends because I knew I wasn't "right" with God and felt like a hypocrite if I tried telling them about Christ and hell. So, I kept my mouth shut.
When I reflect on those years now, I see how deceived I was and how much was destroyed.
Especially my own heart. I didn't know how to be in a relationship. I didn't know what "love" really was. In fact, I kind of just mixed together a number of things like clips from movies, book characters, reality shows, and whatever my friends and family did to produce my definition of love. I gave all of myself into these romantic relationships, not knowing the severe damage that can happen when your partner isn't ready to commit. That's when I started to reject myself and began a series of "self-medicating" therapies to make myself feel worthy and strong, which sadly included self-multiation. I would suffer heavy loss and emotional distress from one particular guy who I had sincerely loved. One of the last times he broke up with me, I attempted suicide but went to the hospital instead because I finally chose to live. I went back to personal Bible study and hard prayer here and there, but once I felt okay, I would take flight again in my own ways. These things ended up hardening my heart over time and my definition of "love" became much more confusing.
I was 26 when I met B (I am not using his real name, just in case) in Colorado Springs in 2004. Right when I decided to not date anyone anymore for a long while, B was introduced to me by some mutual friends and we clicked. We were a lot alike in various ways. We started dating immediately and in a whirlwind, ended up living together and got pregnant. We were happy and things just flowed naturally. He proposed to me within 5 months--of course, I said 'yes' and I felt like I was in the right place, at the right time with the right person--finally.
No one plans to enter into an abusive relationship. It doesn't matter if you are licensed professional or living off welfare, any woman can become a victim of domestic violence. You can be a Nobel prize winner and still honestly convince others who are concerned for you that your abusive partner isn't that bad and defend your abusive relationship. I considered myself pretty smart, athletic, and insightful and I never thought I would willingly endure a hurtful relationship with an abusive man---I felt like I was too smart to be controlled by a man. So when the signs of abuse started, I believed he would change with my help, counseling and love. However, 2 years of marriage with him, I had transformed from a confident and trusting woman into a very defensive, suspicious and angry woman. I had engaged in spousal warfare and it would truly test me.


I received my first restraining order and won custody of Emma. But in January 2005, B and I reconciled and he promised he wouldn't hurt me anymore. So, I dropped the restraining order. Instead, only 3 weeks later B started to become aggressive and bolder.
He did a lot of awful and stupid things like hiding my cell phone and then telling me I was getting old because I couldn't find it or he would rip up my favorite books when I wasn't home. He would even knock on my forehead, joking cruelly that no one was home all because I was ignoring him, trying not to fight with him. It just built and built and I felt like there was nothing else I could do. I couldn't file another restraining order because the judge warned me before but I didn't listen. And the thought of spending my life with B in this twisted marriage was too hopeless for me, and so one night I decided to overdose on some pills. B knew I had done something and called the fire department in time and they managed to charcoal me and I was in the hospital for a day. It was the lowest point I had ever been in. Remember, I was the smart one, the courageous one and the one who wanted to succeed, but after a few months of B's abuse, I really wanted to die just to get away from him. I didn't have the power or strength to stay in the relationship. Once I got out of the hospital, my mom helped encourage me and B was more concerned about me after my tried overdose so we all collectively decided to move back to my parent's home in New Mexico and start fresh.
Yet, our demons followed us as we drove on south I-25 and then onto I-40 towards Thoreau. Never did I expect that the countdown for my life began once we crossed the stateline into New Mexico.
The morning after B pinned me down.
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Continue reading the conclusion of Rhonda's Story click here...
Just as quickly as things came together, things started to fall apart. By the time I had delivered our daughter, B started to become much more demanding, irritable, and stayed out with friends till the bars closed up. He started criticizing everything I did--the clothes I would wear, the food I would buy, the type of movies I watched, and how I interacted with my coworkers and clients. Everyday I had to mentally prepare myself for each encounter with B. Basic decisions like how much I should spend on lunch or how long I could be out with my friends became second-guessing, nervous decisions for me. Each decision was like tip-toeing across this huge minefield. I never knew what would set B off. It all boiled down to one frustrating fact---he was never going to be satisfied. So, I prayed silently and waited.
Our first physical fight happened only about 2 months after giving birth to our daughter. That's when I encountered just how awful B could be. Then we got married a couple months later. I thought being married would somehow tell B to straighten up since he was now committed in marriage. It didn't work.
August 2005: I remember my skin was quickly becoming sticky from the beer angrily poured on me. I did my best to wipe my face with a dish rag, but I was completely drenched. I smelled horrible. Just as unexpected, B being drunk, grabbed his gun case and loaded up his gun. "Click." The safety was now disengaged. He crammed the gun barrel into my left side temple. Instantly, things got quiet and nothing moved. I looked at our aquarium, wondering what my blood would look like splattered on the glass. Then his words, calm and steady spilled out, "I want you to die! Get the f*** out of my house right now."
Instinctively, I closed my eyes and replied frigidly, "No."
In my head, I prayed to God asking Him to take care of Emma (my daughter) who was only about 4 months old by then. She was upstairs sleeping. I told God to take care of her and then, I just waited. Nothing happened.
Then his words emerged, "You're not worth it." Just like that, the stand off was over, The gun was gone. He was gone. And I went into the kitchen to get the beer out of my ear.
Then in late October, we had a huge physical fight that started with him kicking me out of the bed because I decided not to sleep downstairs on the couch again. I told him I wanted to separate. He didn't like that. He finally grabbed my feet and pulled me off the bed when I fought to get back on the bed to sleep. So I fought back and he ended up pinning me on the floor by digging his knee into my back, twisting my left arm behind my back and putting all his weight on my upper back so my head was smothered into the carpet, suffocating me. By then I had a busted lip and the blood from my nose was making it even harder to breathe. Crying out to my mom in despair (she was babysitting), she came out and called 911, but didn't try to help me. He finally let me up when I twisted my way out of his grasp and then cops showed up. B lied and blamed me, telling the cops a huge story of me attacking him first and they believed him. But I was advised to get a restraining order the next day and I did.
Watch Drama Presentation on Domestic Abuse