I grew up in a large and loving family in middle class Buffalo with plenty of opportunities to observe and experience loving family relationships. As a young adult, I had a professional career outside the home and was a mid-level manager in my field. If you were to look at me during the most troubled years of my life, you might never guess my dirty secret: I spent much of my home life living in fear of the man I had married.

So how did this happen?

In my college years I went away to school and met a man who charmed me. The world was so exciting as our relationship advanced: a thrilling roller coaster ride! But as time went on and we married, I soon learned that the ups were never as high, and the lows were becoming scarier and scarier.

People say that they would never let their spouse hit them, but it never happens just like that.

First you are told so often of your failings and shortcomings, in my case the housekeeping and cooking, that you are brainwashed into thinking you are worthless. Then come mood swings, blamed upon your faults that extend days, even weeks. Screaming fits, yelled obscenities and mind games render a person further helpless. Then, and only then, does the first slap or hit come. But it never stops there. Soon the black and blue marks on your arms keep you wearing long sleeves in July, and the pain felt while brushing your hair over the lumps he left on your head seem minor.

You see, I had been so worn down during this time that my prevailing emotion was shame: Shame that I must be such a horrendous person to be treated in this manner. Shame that this person who said they loved me felt this terrible about me.

Over time, we moved back to Buffalo and I rediscovered who I was, reconnected with friends and family, and came to realize that I did not deserve this. So, I gave my then-husband an ultimatum: he was never to physically attack me again. A line in the sand was drawn, and he agreed. It was only a month before the promise was broken – a sunny Saturday, when not putting my gardening tools away “fast enough” resulted in me being punched and kicked on the kitchen floor.

It was then, nearly twenty years ago, that I went through what was then the process for domestic violence victims in Erie County. I went to the hospital to have my injuries checked and documented. The emergency room followed procedure and called the local police. Two policemen, fully uniformed with weapons, came into the curtained area of the emergency room, where I was sitting in my paper hospital gown, and questioned me about my injuries. I still remember the silence that fell around me in the emergency room as I started answering them.

I was told that I had to go downtown to the Family Court building to get an Order of Protection. So, the following Monday, I went down to the big room where all legal papers for Family Court were filed. I sat for hours in the huge waiting room until my name was called, and I had to go up to a window and explain – as quietly as possible, so no one could hear my shame – why I was there. The woman at the window said she could give me a temporary order of protection.

It was only after this trying day in Family Court that I found the open door to the rest of my life. I have remarried – a wonderfully calm man. I have a job where I feel successful and appreciated, and I volunteer to tell this story, my story, for the FJC at community tours and presentations.

When I first heard of the Family Justice Center, I was overcome with emotion. It is impossible to describe how fearful I was of the unknown in my previous life. One of my strongest memories from those years ago was the drive to Family Court. The stress and fear I was experiencing had given me chills and I turned on the heat in the car to stay warm – even though it was 82 degrees outside! The Family Justice Center removes the unknown by having everyone available at one place to help those who walk through their door.

For me, the FJC is not only offering an open door of safety to people who are coming in from violence and abuse, it is also offering an open door for those victims to heal from their pain and to embrace the new lives that are waiting for them.

I am a survivor. A happily married woman. An accomplished engineer.

And because of my life experiences, I have come to appreciate the open doors that the Family Justice Center provides to people living with domestic violence and relationship abuse. Some people see the doors of the FJC as doors to safety, but I see them as the doors of hope. The doors which provide access for domestic violence victims to find the rest of their lives that waits for them: lives of peace, lives of love and lives of accomplishment.