By Katie Patrick
It was springtime, and the rain was pouring down. I had just met with one of my first clients in my new position at Catholic Social Services in 2019. Let’s call her “Casey.” She and her friend “Naomi” had been badly beaten by their boyfriends the night before. They seemed to be each other’s only support, both fleeing from domestic violence.
I recall one of the women was dragged by her hair when her boyfriend found her at a fast-food restaurant late one evening. She managed to escape, but her friend, Naomi, went back to the house where her boyfriend lived. That night, alcohol and drugs were involved, and both women were badly beaten. They fled on foot, ending up at Catholic Social Services the next morning.
The women were confused, unsure of what to do, where to go, or who to turn to. None of their personal belongings were with them, and they were too afraid to return to the apartment where all their things and IDs were. If I recall correctly, they didn’t inform the police or have restraining orders, nor did they want to.
Casey wanted to leave town, but Naomi seemed conflicted, still willing to forgive her boyfriend and return. However, she chose to stay with her friend for the time being. The situation was tense, and both women were in no state to make serious decisions, so we agreed I would take them back to the apartment once they knew their abusers had gone to work.
I drove them to a neighborhood near the capitol. They quickly ran into the apartment to grab as many belongings as they could. I stayed outside near the van, praying their abusers wouldn’t return and preparing to call the police if they did. The women grabbed a blanket, bundled their belongings into it, and carried it down the stairs. They ran, constantly looking over their shoulders, as if expecting someone to appear, perhaps even a neighbor who might tip off their abusers.
It was my first time witnessing and aiding women fleeing such a situation. The rain was pouring, and the CSS minivan became crammed with their belongings and the three of us. I took them to a long-term stay hotel where they could shower, rest, and have some time to think about their next steps. I also provided food from our food pantry, basic cooking supplies from our thrift store, towels, clothing, and personal care items.
Two days later, it was time for the women to make their decisions. Naomi decided to return to her boyfriend, while Casey chose to go to Omaha, where she had family. St. Gianna’s Home wasn’t an option, as neither woman expressed a genuine desire to leave their abusers, despite all they had been through.
Naomi had a job, but Casey struggled with maintaining employment, and her financial situation was unstable. It was a hard lesson for me to learn: no matter how much I advised and encouraged them not to return to their abusers, and how much I was willing to work with them to find other solutions, my words alone wouldn’t change their decisions.
Whether Casey stayed in Omaha, I’ll never know, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if she returned to her abuser just days or weeks later.
Soon after, the Marian Sisters at St. Gianna’s gave me a book, “Why Does He Do That?: Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men,” by Lundy Bancroft. This book helped me understand the psychological manipulation and control that often traps women in abusive relationships. It illuminated how the cycle of abuse is not always about the victim’s desire to stay; rather, it’s about the psychological hold the abuser has over her, convincing her that she has no other option. This book gave me insight into the complexities of domestic violence and deepened my compassion for these women and the difficult choices they face.
In working with clients like Casey and Naomi, I’ve learned that support can only go so far—true change requires the victim’s readiness to take that first step on their own. While I couldn’t rescue them, I was able to offer them the resources they needed at that moment. It’s a reminder that, in the fight against domestic violence, progress can be slow and complicated, but every moment of support, no matter how small, matters. But perhaps what matters most are the prayers behind the scenes. Praying is something that we can all do. In fact, it’s what we’re called to do. Pray for women who are living in these types of situations and pray for those who have moved on. Pray that they have the strength to rebuild and when confronted with the possibility of returning to an abuser that they remember the future God has planned for them. “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for wholeness and not for evil, to give you a future full of hope.” Jeremiah 29:11
