Sophia Blew's Safehouse Adventures

I had been beaten and clawed by my mate. I had no where else to turn. I knew no one who would save me from the mate whom I had chosen to spend the rest of my life with. The mate that I had trusted above all others. How could I have been so naive?

A friend had recommended that I go to Safehouse. So I set off on my long and lonely journey to find refuge in a strange place with strange people.

When I arrived at Safehouse, I felt like a true outsider. Like no one else had been through what I had been through, and I guess in our own way, we were unique in the how's and the why's, but we had all been abused in one way or another and that alone put me in the same category as every one else who resided there.

For those of you who have never heard of Safehouse, it is a place for battered women to come to in there time of recovery of abuse. A place to hide from their abusers and get their feet back on the ground. A chance to become an individual being, not an abusers puppet, to be controlled as he sees fit. A chance to find ones self.

A friend of mine that stayed a short time at Safehouse, (I cannot use her name without breaking confidentiality) wrote a lovely poem for the people that happened to be there when she was, and it explains some of the feelings that I went through. And even though it did not reveal all that had happened in our lives. ....everyone there had some sort of connection with the words that she wrote.

If given the chance and the fire that burns within her stays as strong and as true as they did the night she sat in the gazebo and wrote those words, she will go far as a writer. Which I believe to be her true love.

These are the words that reached each and every one of us:

COURAGE

As the days grow shorter
Like the chapters in my life
I find that I'm an individual
Not a slave, or someone's wife
You have controlled my every action
And put blinders on my eyes
You covered my body with bruises
And filled my head with lies
You manipulated my life
And battered my self-esteem
You twisted my head and heart
And took it to extremes
Be it desperation or divine intervention
Or whatever you want to believe
I know not where it came from
But I found the courage to leave
Now I have my own agenda
And problems to work through
And I know that I can do it
And I don't need you
No longer am I chained
To someone else's way of life
Because I am an individual
Not a slave, or you wife
07-15-2001

The reason I am writing this is not to publicize the Safehouse, though it would do well with more of it, but to explain the help that I found there. Not from the staff so much as the people who had been through what I had been through.

They say that once you have served in the armed forces, the friendships that you make there, may not last a lifetime, but the closeness of your situation and the stress that you go through together makes a bond that can't always be explained with mere words. That is what I found at Safehouse.

One or two of them that stayed there were always in their own little world and hardly spoke. We just did not connect. Then there was a couple of them that just were way out there. Without putting names on paper, we had one that sat and talked to her new boyfriend on the phone all day long...she met him on the internet. (lol) It just didn't seem safe to me. But, last I heard, she and her internet boyfriend and her much neglected 11 year old son, rode off into the sunset together. I sometimes wonder about her....did it last? Or more frightening...did she and her son become an internet statistic? Was this person that they left with, sane? Unfortunately, I will never know. I pray that the good lord kept his eye on her.

One lady that came there was convinced that the only reason that her mate beat on her was because of the children. I felt so sorry for her. She was ready to give up her kids to go back to the monster that had beaten her for nearly 30 years. The same man that called her stupid more that 100 times a day and told her that she was too uninteresting for any other man to be interested. When in all truth, she was not an ugly woman, and she was very smart, except for matters of the heart. The man that for 7 years, refused to take her to the doctor. When she finally went, she discovered that she had more that 6 large tumors in her abdomen. She left the shelter saying that she was going to stay with her family that she had not seen in a very long time. I can only hope that she did as she said she would.

We occasionally had a lesbian come through the doors, but they did not open up as much as the others. I always felt that it was because they were already being prosecuted by others about there lifestyles and that this was just one more fight that they could only win on their own. They are a proud and noble lot. I look up to them for standing up for what they believe in. I can only hope that I carry half as much dignity as my friend did. (Again, for safety sake, I cannot mention a name.)

However, there was one person that came there that will always remain in my mind and in my heart. She was a beautiful little girl with 2 sisters and a battered mom. The mom and the one destined to become a writer became friends very quickly, and the baby took up most of their time. I am not saying that she was not a good mom, because she was an excellent mom. She cared for all of her children, and she tended to them like a mom should. But I think that the other women in the shelter harbored some ill feelings toward her and her kids because of their ethnic background. That was of no consequence to me, what the nationality of the children might be...I myself was certainly no pure blood. However, the oldest of the girls was my favorite. She would sit and talk to me for hours. She knew that I would never tell anyone her secrets. She wanted me to move in with them when they finally exited the shelter, but as you well know, that could not happen. She would sneak me treats from the kitchen when no one was looking. A few people knew about it, but not many. And I miss her so much that I think sometimes my little heart will break right into. How she must have grown after all this time.

As for myself....I am a permanent resident at the Safehouse. However I do not live by the 9 to 5 attitude as the staff and clientele do. I make my own rules and my own schedule. I am not locked inside after midnight, nor do I have to be home by 7:30 pm. Because you see, I am a cat. A Safehouse cat, and even though many people will pass through this shelter on their way to a new life, I will remain. If for no other reason than to listen to the children tell me what they could never tell their own kind.