My Story – Jessica Banks

“Why didn’t you leave?”
It’s the number one question domestic violence survivors are asked; in fact, I’m pretty certain it’s the number one question we ask ourselves.
I met my ex-husband in 2011.
At that point, he was my roommate.
He was shy, quiet, and kind, just an awkward kid who seemed like he just needed life to give him a break.
He stayed with me and my ex partner for a year, and toward the end I found out he had developed feelings for me. Neither of us acted on anything. A year and a half passed.
I was single, and in the mall with my oldest.
We saw each other, and that was it… at least, that’s what I thought. When I look back at it, there were signs. He would snap at me while we were trying to move, by the time I drove myself and my child 6 hours from home, they had escalated into fights. I was pretty certain I was going to have to move back home. Then, I became pregnant. It wasn’t the joyful experience it should have been, he became very controlling; it was “his” pregnancy and child, not mine. I was merely the incubator. He threw a fit when we found out it was a girl, locked himself in the bedroom for ours, while I was laying on the floor in the living room with my oldest.
I wasn’t allowed to name our child, wasn’t allowed to breastfeed…..
I digress.
He had to go back to my home city for military training regularly, and I found out he would cheat on me every time.
He then started picking fights with me at night, preventing me from being able to sleep. He threw my phone against the wall. Grabbed my arm hard enough to leave bruises. Punched a hole in the wall. The day before I went into labor with our child, I put on his coat (it was freezing) and as I slipped my hands into the pockets, I came up with a handful of condoms.
Things got worse after I gave birth.
I guess it was good that he exercised some sort of restraint while I was pregnant?
He still deprived me of sleep.
He would bribe me with his Adderall for sex, I was desperate to maintain some sort of focus, so I caved.
He would take me on car rides in the middle of the night where he would threaten to take our daughter across the country.
He would kick me out of the house.
He started siphoning funds from my bank account into his. He’d already effectively severed my connection to any family and/or friends. But then, he decided he was going to move his “friend” in the house with us. It was clear that he had a strong emotional connection with this woman, though they both maintained it “wasn’t like that.”
(She’d come to visit before, so I was already familiar with how they interacted)
Things escalated quickly. He was constantly making comparisons between us. She was cozying up to my kids.
He was threatening me more. Pushing me into walls, restraining me, being forceful with sexual advances.
One night, I get home from a 12 hour shift at work, and they’re both gone.
I check my bank account, and sure enough, money is missing.
I’m holding our then 9 month old in my arms.
They finally return, and I’m pissed.
He hardens his face, and starts barking orders at me, something about the landlord and putting things up in the shed.
I guess he didn’t like my expression, because he begins choking me, both hands wrapped tightly around my neck. He stops, and begins pummeling my face with both fists, my back hitting a support board in the coach rhythmically. The blows sounded like meat being thrown on a cutting block.
Mind you, our child is still on my lap.
I feel myself starting to black out, and weakly plead with him to stop.
At that point, the roommate screams for him to stop, that she feels like she’s having a heart attack. He stopped… for her. They take my phone, and talk about how everything was MY fault, and that we have to hide it so he won’t get into trouble. Hours pass, and they finally decide I need to see a dr…
I should have left then. I made plans. But I didn’t. He hit me again a couple months later. He invited an ex-lover to move in with us, I found out they were sleeping together. We move back to my home, he’s depriving me of sleep, pushing me into door jams, bruising my back, threatening me… I leave again… I come back.
He moves to New York… cheats on me, moves back, moves to Colorado.
In between our communication oscillates between me trying to be normal, all I wanted was for him to love me, to him threatening, to me being scared, to me desperately trying to “take the upper hand”…. It was easier yo do over email. I’d finally had enough in May 22nd…
Somehow, it got worse, especially when the divorce proceedings began.
Threats.
Email hacking. Spies on social media.
I cut off all contact when I discovered he’d been abusing my oldest….
He really lost it then.
Threats to leak nude photos.
Death threats.
Threats that he’d find me, that he’d show the world “what I’ve done”……
It’s taken me half a decade yo be able to cope with the trauma of what he did to me and my family….
I don’t think I’ll ever completely be over it, but I’m leaps and bounds from the underweight, hyper vigilant mess that I was in 2018.
I left… And I’m surviving. Trying to live, and hoping that one day I’ll thrive.