I am dearly sorry to hear about your ordeal; a side is sympathetic and angry at such a man who would do that to anyone, let alone their own wife. But the other side of me is angry you didn't notice the redflags. You didn't know he was a psycho before he tried to murder you? He showed no signs of irrationality in his anger, moodswings, abusive tendencies? I find it difficult to believe you couldn't tell he was a total sociopath before he attempted murder.
Actually, no, I didn't. He was on meds for schizophrenia and bipolar disease. I did not know this. He went off his meds not long after we were married and the fun began. It was mental abuse at first. Verbal jabs and put downs. That got worse. I can't go into detail because, well, it's just private, that's all.
Because the abuse was mental, I didn't automatically leave. I just thought he was suddenly a mean guy. It happens, and I steeled myself to be miserable.
When he became physical, WHILE I was holding our son, that's when I left. I didn't even take time to pack up my stuff. He, in turn, took my bank card, emptied out the checking and savings and then proceeded to burn my possessions. The police removed him from the premises of the apartment. We had the locks changed, but not before he came in and smashed our son's cake...our son was turning 1. Then, he called the electric company and the cable company and had all our services shut off at the apartment. When he was served with the restraining order, he told the guy that he'd kill me anyway.
He showed up at work the morning my brake lines were cut and tried to get me to come out and talk to him. When my boss told him to get lost, he told me that he had money for me but that I had lost out because I refused to see him (actually, even if I had wanted to see him, the RO prevented me from doing so, at least if I wanted to be serious about needing it). My boss saw him loitering in the parking lot and called the police, but by the time the cops got there he was gone. Fortunately, my boss stuck around with me and walked me to my car and waited until I had started driving out of the lot. That's when I realized something was wrong with the car - it wouldn't stop. Thank God I didn't make it out onto the street! When the mechanic looked at it, he knew right away that it was intentionally cut.
There were more things after that, too. He was bad when we were together, but he got worse after we split.
But in that case, women can call the police and witness protection; if youfell threatened enough, they'll come and protect you by watching your house, escorting you, etc. I mean, it's not as defeatest as you make it to be. It just takes guts courage and initiative.
Witness protection? You watch too much TV. And having escorts and police patrols don't always stop the madness. I'm not defeatist, but I am a realist, and I work with abused women a lot. Women call the police on their husbands all the time, and then they slip through the cracks. Some husbands are so abusive and so manipulative that it doesn't take much more than a "I'll kill our children if you try to leave" or "I'll go after your family if you try to leave" to keep a beaten woman down.
Sometime when you get a chance, listen to "love the way you lie" with Rihanna and Eminem. Yeah, yeah, it's rap and it's not the greatest sounding song, but the lyrics are very powerful. It chronicles an abusive relationship and how they start, and how the man continues to escalate the abuse and the mental manipulations he makes. The song is very true to life. I still have the threatening letters from my ex where he said he would kill my family or find our son and take him away from me. As bat-crazy as my ex was, I firmly believed that he could make good on those threats and basically had to live the next three years as a recluse...I only went out to go to work. I had seven locks on my door. We added my folk's house to the restraining order and some of my friends who were cops kept watch at my apartment and my folk's neighborhood. I don't think I could ever put into words the terror and loneliness I felt during those three years. I'm not sure I'd want to try to put into words.