Thinking a lot about the process of healing and reconciliation following violence, about what can happen when you move on without consequences. I may delete this thread later. For now, a personal story (CW: domestic violence, but no graphic details):
In a drawer of this desk, I have a copy of an arrest warrant issued when I was a teen, to protect me from the violence of an adult in my life. The arrest was a result of mandatory reporting laws. I had called the police before, never on my own behalf. This time a doctor called.
I’ve kept this paper all these years, decades. I laid my hand on it a minute ago, before typing this. For the longest time, I couldn’t say why I keep it. I didn’t know. We moved on. Most of my family pretends the arrest never happened.
There have been times when this paper seemed like the only proof I have about what happened that day. I was a minor when the arrest occurred, but I turned 18 before the case went to court. If not for that birthday, things might have gone a different way.
I was not required to go to court, I guess because I had been a minor or because there was enough evidence or witness testimonial without me, but I was persuaded to go for the sake of HEALING AND RECONCILIATION, by someone who loved us both.
Against my better judgement, knowing I didn’t believe what I was saying, I pleaded for leniency. (Almost a stereotype, from growing up watching the stereotype as example, I guess.) Skeptical, the judge agreed to something that seemed like reasonable middle ground at the time:
The case would go into something he called a “dead docket” and would stay there until the offender was arrested again for any violent crime (against anyone.) A restraining order was also put in place, and mandatory family therapy (mandatory for him.)
We were all going to pretend it had never happened, even though it had always happened for as long as I can remember. My earliest memories are of adults screaming at each other, hitting each other. Even so, I was no longer living at home, so this seemed ok.