Breaking the cycle of abuse

Terry Thaxton ducks to avoid a piece of glass, thrown over her head as she falls to the ground after being pushed against the wall by her husband. She takes a punch to the chest. And another one. And then a few kicks to the rest of her body.

There is name-calling and bruising. There are really bad cramps and blood dripping down her leg. She knows what this means; she's in labor before even confirming with a doctor that she is pregnant.

One urge to push, and there it is; a dead fetus lying on the ground.

Her husband puts the fetus in a plastic bag and places it on the coffee table to snap a shot of it with his camera and says, "This way I can remind you what a pathetic woman you are. You can't even carry a baby." He then shoots their dog as punishment for losing his baby.

"I didn't call it abuse for at least 10 years later. He raped me, but I didn't say that for 20 years," said Thaxton, who has been divorced from her husband for more than 20 years. "That is our self-preservation. We don't want to think that is what it was, and he was my husband, and there is this whole [belief of], ‘Don't I owe it to him?' I was raised to believe that that is what I was for."

Thaxton, who is now a published poet and creative writing professor at UCF, lost her baby 30 years ago and still has difficulty admitting some of her past, and she is not alone. She is one of many females in Central Florida who have experienced or are currently experiencing abusive relationships. Now, more than ever, Central Florida is stepping up to help females escape violent relationships.

According to Taylor Ulman, development officer of Harbor House of Central Florida, a shelter for women escaping domestic violence situations, domestic violence in Central Florida is rising quickly.

"The economy is a big contributing factor. When people lose jobs, it leads to anxiety and anger," Ulman said.

Between 2009 and 2010, 759 women and children stayed at the shelter and 7,212 safety plans were completed with clients. There was also a 20 percent increase in domestic violence incidents, which almost always start with emotional abuse.

For Thaxton, and many other women, the emotional abuse led to physical abuse in just a few months. By this point, the cycle of abuse outlined by Lenore Walker, researcher and feminist, had already begun. Walker identified three phases that abusive relationships tend to cycle through.

The relationship often starts with the honeymoon phase, where the abuser is caring, gentle, and affectionate and may present gifts or go out of their way to make the other person feel loved.

This phase transitions into the tension-building phase. According to Walker, acts of violence are generally preceded by periods of growing unrest within the relationship and the abuser may start to become short-tempered. This will then transition into the acting-out phase, where the abuser will become violent.

This cycle can last up to five years or as little as one hour before cycling back to the honeymoon phase.

While being caught up in the cycle of abuse, Thaxton became isolated from family and friends and had nowhere to go. She and her boyfriend moved in together, got married and suffered through a miscarriage in their first attempt at having a child. They tried again and had a baby boy, Adam, who was born premature.

"During an explosion, my husband was chasing me, and I left; got out of the house. And he got in the car and was chasing me, and I just ran behind some woods where he couldn't get to. And the next day I went into labor, six weeks early," Thaxton said.

It wasn't until her husband spent the little bit of change left on the counter, which had been saved up for Adam's baby formula, when Thaxton realized what kind of situation she was in.

"And at that point, something clicked, and I just thought, ‘This isn't going to stop with me.' I realized at that moment that it wasn't just me in danger — it was my son," Thaxton said.

Thaxton gathered her belongings and the baby and left for her parents' house. She knew leaving could be a dangerous situation, but she also knew staying would be worse.

"Leaving is not only hard to do, but it is the most dangerous time. Most homicides happen after leaving," Ulman said. "They are afraid to leave because they could be putting themselves or their family in great danger."

Thaxton had local police, who were also friends of her mother, patrol around her parents' house to ensure safety during this critical time. She also had a strong support system, but what helped her in the long term was therapy.

The moments of realization that she was not in a safe relationship did not come to Thaxton immediately, only when she was emotionally ready to deal with them. Even now, she has difficulty admitting that the same man who gave her a child has also raped her. This is largely because she was reared in a conservative, religious home and was taught that her body belonged to the man.

"After I left him, I divorced him. Step one," said Thaxton. "Then step two: I went to one therapist, one time, shortly after I left him."

It then took about 10 years for Thaxton to go to long-term therapy, regularly.

"That is what has really helped me," she said.

Being in a comfortable setting and talking about past experiences has shown to help recovery among other abuse survivors as well. Rachel Miranda, a junior creative writing major at UCF, is a 24-year-old woman who just recently escaped an abusive relationship. She also believes in recovery through therapy.

However, for Miranda, her therapy sessions were nothing more than long talks with close friends.

"Even though after a while my friends stopped pressing me to get out of the relationship, it was just the fact that they were there. There was always someone to talk to and flush out my thoughts and who would listen," Miranda said.