"Molly" (I've changed her name) has just left her husband after years of abuse. She took her young daughter and fled on the day that her husband vowed to kill them both if they left, and while she is terrified, she is also working hard at not looking back. She has gotten a protective order, and continues to go to work each day, doing a job that helps rescue other people who are in danger. She has an incredibly big heart, and is usually on the other side of the fence, helping those who are in need, feeling frightened and alone. I know her through my job running a program helping victims of domestic violence, and she is someone who would give others her last possession if it would help to make a positive difference in their lives. And yet, as happens, she somehow found herself trapped in a situation she was afraid to leave, even as she knew that she had to, for herself and her daughter. These situations rarely start out this way: at first there is often a good connection, and the not-so-good moments get excused or explained away because of the good ones, and time passes and children arrive and a family is built, with all the ups and downs that families face. Lives get woven together, and behavior that was unthinkable in the beginning becomes an everyday thing, and sometimes an every minute thing, and one day you realize that you are living in a situation that is unlivable. 

Let me give you a little background about the gravity of the request I am making. Her husband hasn’t worked during most of their marriage. She has been responsible for not only supporting the family financially, but handling the childrearing, the household chores, and every other aspect of their lives. Walking on eggshells doesn’t begin to do justice to how Molly and her daughter have lived these past years: day after day, hour after hour, minute upon minute, they have lived with the threat of his unpredictable and explosive anger. It is always there, always lurking right around the corner, except when it isn’t lurking anymore. Then, it is thrown like a grenade. It might take the shape of a slap across the face, or a closed fist connecting with a jaw. It might also come in the form of words: think of the most vile and degrading names a woman can be called, and the many ways you can tell another person that they are stupid or worthless. This kind-hearted, gentle woman who would give her last possession to someone if she believed it would somehow rescue them, has heard it all, over and over again—and so has her daughter—for doing things like leaving the refrigerator door open for more than 10 seconds, the length of time her husband decided was acceptable.

Now imagine the courage it must take to silence the voice inside of her that has come to believe that she is worthless, that she doesn’t deserve to be treated with dignity and respect, that she doesn’t deserve the tiniest piece of human kindness. And yet she has begun to silence that voice: she has faced down that belief and demanded more, demanded better, even in the face of death threats.

However, understanding that she is gone, her husband is making her pay for her courage and for her resolve that she and her daughter must be safe, and deserve something better. Among other retaliatory acts, he has taken the one working car, even though he doesn’t work now and hasn’t throughout their marriage—and despite having no intention of changing that. As I said, Molly does work, rescuing others who are in crisis. She must have a car to do so, and to support their daughter. While she may eventually get the car during the divorce, particularly as she covered all of the expenses for the car during the marriage, that could take a year or much longer. Molly doesn’t have a year to solve this problem, and she also doesn’t have the money to do so: she left the marriage with $120 to her name. While her job will help her to become reestablished, she must have the job to do so.

We are hoping to be able to help Molly purchase a reliable vehicle, and repair it and get it through the Maryland state inspection and registration. Any amount you contribute will go to this entirely. 

 I am asking you, if you are reading this, to open your heart—and your generosity—to Molly. At the Southern Maryland Center for Family Advocacy, we are helping her in every way we can, but we need your help too. Thank you, from the depths of my heart—and on her behalf, from the depths of Molly’s heart, as well.