Agnes Holy

04-18-2016
Case Study
PSYCH

I was born in beautiful city, Zakopane, Poland, on the footsteps of

Tatra mountains. My mom was a hair stylist and my father was a building
engineer. I have one sister who is four years older than me. I dont
remember much of my family, but I do know that my father was an abusive
alcoholic, who often took out his frustration on my mother.
First memory I have is of my mom leaving our apartment to come to
U.S.A. when I was almost three years old. I remember her putting on her
leather, knee high dark brown boots, Scottish design skirt, and maroon
color leather jacket. That was in 1981. We lived in an old house that was
divided into apartments, my moms sister with her family lived above us,
and my fathers brother with his family lived next to us. My aunt tried to help
my father to take care of us but with her having three small kids of her own,
it was very hard on her. Next thing I know is my another aunt taking me and
my sister to live with her in my moms birth town, about an hour drive away
from my father. I was three years old.
For the next five years or so, my father came to visit on holidays and
vacations, but he usually was drunk or got drunk as soon as he came.
Many times he caused arguments and fights, so my aunt was forced to
abandon him from coming. My years growing up I remember as happy,
careless, and joyful. My aunt quit her work to take care of me and my sister.
She devoted everything to us. Help with homework, school projects, and
taught us how to cook and bake, and even saw clothes and nit.
In the meantime, my mom was sending money every month for our
support and sometimes we would get used clothes from people she
cleaned for. I didnt like wearing those clothes because style in Poland then
was different, and sometimes other kids would make fun of my clothes.
During those years my mom also divorced my father. She was working on

bringing me and my sister to U.S. but didnt want to be with my father

anymore.
In February of 1992, my sister and I came to U.S. I came to a mother
that was a stranger to me. Leaving all my family and friends back in
Poland, life as I knew it changed forever. My mom was a very cold person.
Never hugged me or expressed her emotions, only complained. Soon I
realized that anything I would do or say, she always found a negative
remark. It made me feel very bad about myself and that I was not good
enough. My sister though was treated more like a friend to my mom, maybe
because she was eighteen years old, and I was turning fourteen later that
year. It seemed as if to my mom I was a little, incompetent child. And for
many years on she kept on talking down to me like that, and I kept on trying
to do everything to seek her acceptance and approval.
I went to school right away. It was horrible at times because I did not
speak a word I English. I couldnt make friends, and many kids bullied me
and made fun of me for that fact. In high school it was little better, there
was few Polish speaking kids there, we hang out together in school. Once I
started to make friends, my mom disapproved of all that didnt speak
Polish, and I wasnt allowed to hang out with them. I was very rarely
allowed to go to one of my polish friends house for a sleep over, and no
one was allowed to come to mine. Even my bed time was set as to same
as hers.
When I was sixteen I got a job at McDonalds by my school, so that
after school I could walk to work and then take a city bus home. And on the
weekends to get away from her I got another job as a server at banquet
hall receptions. Besides she always said that she makes money for bills
and food, so if I want new clothes and school supplies I had to make my
own money.
Relationship between my mom and I got really bad when my sister
moved out and got married. My mom helped her buy a condo and a car,
while I still had to rely on myself and public transportation.
When I was seventeen I stood up to my mom and got into a first huge
argument, this was the first time she didnt slap me in my face for opening
my mouth to her. The argument was over me wanting the choice whether
or not I want to have the doors to my room closed or opened when I was at

home. She disagreed and asked a friend of hers to take my doors

completely down. Told me if I dont like it I can move out. So I did. I was not
allowed to take anything with me that she paid for. I left home in clothes I
was wearing and $60.00 in my pocket. I walked eleven miles to my sisters
house to beg her to let me temporarily stay with her.
I got a small bed in the same room as her baby was, and in return for
my stay there and food I took care of my eight-month old nephew when I
wasnt at school or work. That pretty much meant getting up at night to feed
him and change his diapers. I also took extra courses through mail and was
able to graduate from high school in the middle of my junior year, with
honors and golden apple, token for multi-language students (by then I knew
four languages).
College was out of reach for me. I couldnt afford it and my mom said
she wont waste her money on my education, because she doubted that I
could graduate. I had enough money earned for a ticket to Poland, so I
decided to go back there.
My mom used to send me to Poland for summer breaks, so that she
could rest from me, as she put it. Thanks to that I had a boyfriend there that
I was faithful to the relationship for three years. When I went back and
turned eighteen years old, we got married. My mom didnt like that idea so
few months later she sends my sister to come and get me, under the
excuse that I should come back to the States not to lose my green card
status. She was making promises to help me get my husband to U.S.
However, the result was quite opposite, I ended up divorcing him.
I moved in with her and worked two jobs as much as I could and
enrolled to cosmetology school. This time was little bit different, I was
allowed to hang out with my Polish friends sometimes after work. Thats
how and when I met my next husband.
At first he was impressive, had a good job and was finishing degree
course for HVAC. Had a car, and always opened the doors in front of me.
When he took me on a date he always paid for everything. He wrote me
poems, and told me he wanted to spend rest of his life with me.
Eight months later I got pregnant and that changed everything. He hid
this from his family and was very unsure of what he wanted to do. He would

come over to break up with me then sometimes two hours later, sometimes
two days later wanted to get back together. It was very confusing for me
and when I had enough of this misleading behavior and crying over him, I
gave him an ultimatum that he either is with me and helps to take
responsibility for this coming baby or he needs to leave me alone and Ill
notify him when I give birth if I need financial help. He chose to stay.
My mom advised him to invest the money he had saved up in a
condominium for us. Eventually he agreed but not before I had to sign a
prenuptial agreement that I can live there with him but will never claim any
rights to it. That didnt sit right with me, but I did it to be with him, so that my
daughter can grow up with a mother and a father. My mom let me take a
bedroom set, and my sister set us up with household needs, such as
towels, pots and pans, plates etc. To get him to buy anything for the house
was always a struggle. At nine months pregnant I still had to sit on the floor
to eat dinner because he couldnt make up his mind to buy a table.
After I had my baby, I finished my school and got a job at a local
salon, on the weekends I would still wait tables. He didnt want to have
anything to do for our baby. When our daughter got sick with an ear
infection he blamed me for it and wouldnt give money for the antibiotics,
again my sister helped out.
Since we moved in together he was giving me very hard time about
talking to my family or friends, accused me of cheating on him with my
neighbor when he was at work. Many times threatened to throw me out. I
remember one time, I went to my nephews birthday party, of course
without him, and not even an hour later he called and said that he is not
feeling good and had to go to the hospital. Therefore, I had to leave the
party and search for him because he wouldnt tell me which one he went to,
and come home to take care of him.
Much of that psychological abuse was inflicted on me, along with
verbal put downs, and making me feel guilty for everything and everything
was my fault. Soon I got pregnant again. For the sake of the pregnancy Ive
learned how to tune him out from time to time. I was allowed to work as
long as I kept up with the duties at home and made enough money for
expenses associated with work, such as gas and babysitting.

My new baby was four months old when he raised his hand on me for
the first time. As always it started off with a big argument, about me putting
an empty ashtray under the sink in the kitchen cabinet. I was able to duck
the first punch with my daughter in my arms, that left a big hole in the wall,
but the next thing I remember was looking at my oldest daughter hiding
under the dining room table with this horrifying look in her eyes. Next thing I
remember was trying not to land on the floor on top of the baby. I was
shocked. Then he tried choking me, and dragged me across the apartment
by my hair to physically put me outside of his apartment.
I was feeling helpless over my life. Life as I knew stopped having any
sense. I didnt know what to do or what not to do. My family was done with
me when I didnt leave him and yet got pregnant second time. They didnt
want to have anything to do with me and they didnt want my problems
around them.
After that, things went quiet for few days. Then he was apologizing
and promised not to do it. He said he didnt know what came over him, but
if I wouldnt put that ashtray under the sink he wouldnt lost it.
After putting up with this for about a year I needed to leave. My mom
agreed for me to move in with her as she finally saw bruises in places that I
couldnt explain. About six months later, after he begged me to come back,
I decided to try it again, hoping that he changed. It was good for a while, he
even agreed to buy a house together. Now I see that this to him was only
financial investment and an excuse not to be home from work.
All the work around the house fell on me. All the fixing, renovations,
cutting grass, making sure bills were paid, and kids were taken care of.
When he was home, he picked on the things that I didnt get to in time. He
started to come home later and later. Most of the time he was drunk. I had
to be up and awake waiting for him with dinner, otherwise I was getting
beat up. Ive tried to avoid arguments by leaving the room and he would
fallow me and continue to verbally assault me, until I snapped and said
something back at him, then it was a green light to put his hands on me.
Of course next day he denied it. Blamed it on the alcohol.
After two years, an opportunity came for us to move to Cincinnati
from Chicago. Still wanting to save my marriage, I talked him into moving. I
was hoping that new environment, no more friends to drink with at a strip

clubs, and no family putting in their thoughts into our marriage, would give
us a fair chance to learn to rely on each others and would make things
better between us.
We never got to exchange our vows in church, and never had a
wedding reception, being catholic it was bothering me. So we did that. In
the middle of planning the wedding I got pregnant again. Since the beatings
stopped I thought that he was really changing. He always nagged how he
doesnt have a son, so I tried that too, to make him happy.
Reflecting back now, I see that the reason why he stopped being
physically abusive was only because he was either not home or too drunk.
We sold two condominiums that we each owned separately when
one of the times we split up. That was a down payment for a house here in
Cincinnati. We bought a house across his relative. To my surprise a month
after we moved here his cousin was moving in with us from Chicago.
Apparently they made a such plan and my husband failed to inform me.
Right before we moved, my son was four weeks old, and one night he
came home so drunk from celebrating farewell, he decided he wanted
sex. But I couldnt, I was still bleeding after the pregnancy, everything was
still hurting. He didnt care. My stitches ripped, I felt as if I was bleeding out,
he got angry that I was bleeding too much, and the rest was same as
always. However, I was pregnant again.
His uncle that lived across the street from us, worked for a company
that has many apartment buildings in Clifton. He started giving me work
cleaning those apartments. Then he asked me to clean hallways in those
buildings. Do to my hard work, I made an impression on his bosses, and
they started to specifically request my services. He used to come over
sometimes to talk about the job or to have a drink with my husband. When
he started to notice that things at home werent what everyone thought,
such as, I worked hard and took care of two kids and an infant, and all the
house work of course, and paid the bills, but my husband always found
something wrong with me. He started to say things to my husband in my
defense. My husband did not like that, so he decided that we need to move
into a bigger house.

Three months after moving to Cincinnati, we bought another house

and rented out the current one. The new house needed some renovations
so we each got busy working to make money. My business grew rapidly
and he started to work for himself with his cousin.
During that time his mother came to U.S. and was staying with her
sister in Chicago. Life was getting harder on me, and she was doing not so
well in Chicago on her own, I asked her to move down to Cincinnati. Again,
it was extreme struggle to convince my husband of that. He didnt want her
here close to us, but all I saw was help for me and improving her income
and living situation. The company I was working for agreed to give her a
nice apartment in exchange for cleaning hallways in that building.
When she was all settled here, my husband started drinking again,
and not coming home till midnight. More responsibilities fell on me. Both of
my daughters were in sports, one played soccer and the other one was
cheerleading, and the baby. Between work, kids, sports, household. And
doing billing for his company, I was getting burned out.
When he came home there was always yelling. The house was not
clean enough, lasagna was not a dinner, the dinner wasnt hot enough, the
dog shouldnt be in the house, too much laundry not done, you name it, he
yelled about it. Didnt care if he woke up the kids. Didnt care what I felt, or
how the pregnancy was going. Six months pregnant, I havent seen a
doctor yet, I had no time, other things were priority.
That was the time when I started drinking. I thought to myself, that
one glass of wine is not going to hurt the pregnancy, in fact all over the
news doctors were recommending it, besides it will give me the excuse to
go to sleep and not do his billing till three oclock in the morning.
When I was in the delivery room, about to have a baby, he just left me
there, because he got a call from work. I got so upset that I was all by
myself that I got a panic attack on top of getting an allergic reaction to the
epidural injection. The last thing I remember was the nurse asking me who
they should save, me or the baby? When I woke up I saw many nurses,
screaming and running around, no doctor. All my intestines on top of my
stomach, lights flashing everywhere, and lots of machines beeping, then I
think I passed out again. When I finally woke up I was told that the baby is

fine. My husband was there, crying, apologizing, promising to change and

help me more.
That honeymoon stage lasted for about a year. His cousin moved
out. We hired his other cousin and my stepfather move in from Chicago to
help him at work and me at home, especially driving the older girls around
for games and practices. My husband never attended any of my kids
games or practices, but he insisted that they stick with it.
My daughter was six weeks old when I faced either losing my job or
going back to work. Although my employees were doing the job, it wasnt
as good as when I was there personally doing it with them.
Within two or three days my stitches from the C-section started
ripping. I was in so much pain that at times I felt that I was going to faint. I
couldnt breast feed my daughter because it was too painful on my belly. I
had to take her to work because she was too young for daycare.
My drinking then progressed from few glasses of wine a week to few
glasses of wine a day. One to stop my nerves before my husband came
home and another one to help me to fall asleep.
My mother in law became distant. The more business I was getting
the less she contacted me. Then she started calling my husband and
complain to him that I wasnt sharing any extra work with her. That started
to cause arguments between my husband and I. my step father was getting
older and started to forget thing and get tired faster, which caused more
arguments between me and my husband because he worked for him. So
we had to fire him. He moved back to Chicago but that caused me my
relationship with my mom.
Once we were living without any guests, the physical abuse came
back. I couldnt take this anymore. I wanted to die. Every day I was hoping
for an opportunity to get killed. To cope with my husbands personality, I
was drinking. When I had few drinks, his offensive and vulgar language
towards me didnt hurt me as much. I dont even know when exactly I got
pregnant again. There was so many incidents that he used to call fulfilling
marital duties, I just started to drink more and block him out.
I had my fifth child early. One day when I was giving baths to my kids
and then drying their hair, I started bleeding very heavy. I got him to come

home to other kids and with a towel between my legs I drove myself to the
ER. 35 weeks pregnant my placenta ripped. I had to stay in the hospital for
a week, then they scheduled another C-section. I missed my fourth childs
second birthday, he made me feel really guilty about that. When I came
back home, his mother practically lived there already.
I saw and felt that something has changed. When he was giving me a
hard time about that his business is supporting mine I decided to separate
the businesses. With that he separated himself from me. I went back to
work, this time only four weeks after having the baby. I was suffering with
untreated depression, that I was diagnosed with when I finally saw a doctor
with my fourth pregnancy. I tried antidepressants but I was also selfmedicating with alcohol. At time I thought I was going crazy in my head. So
I stopped the anti-depressants and continued to drink. I was stressed,
overwhelmed, and suicidal.
I knew I was already an alcoholic, had to have a drink in the morning
to stop the shaking, then at lunch and after I got my kids from school and
daycare, I cooked with a drink, and when they went to bed I had a few
more.
He spoke of hating me, I hated myself, and my twelve-year-old
daughter started to hate me too. His mother brought over from Poland his
youngest brother and his girlfriend. She was supposed to fill in my role in
the family business. They convened my husband that he doesnt need me,
and he convinced me that my kids would be much better off without a
mother like me.
I had enough of the assaults, and rape. I wanted to leave or die. I
couldnt imagine how I was supposed to be able to take care of five
children. I remembered his words that he would kill me if I left. He told me
many times that he doesnt want me but he will never allow me to be with
anybody else. He started calling the police on me if we argued. He wanted
to destroy my credibility to the police. He started talking bad about me at
my work, how he was a victim of my abuse.
Six months of this explosive hell I was driving home after work and
picked up kids from the daycare, and had a car accident.

Luckily I wasnt drinking for few days then. By then I really tried hard
to quit drinking, I was able to stay sober for few weeks, and sometimes a
month at a time, unfortunately fallowed by a binge that sometimes lasted a
whole weekend.
The accident was bad. I totaled my car. I dropped my cell phone while
arguing with my husband, because by accident I just found out he forged
my signature to buy and investment property. It was raining. Reaching for
my cell phone, I swirled a foot of the road and hit an electrical pole.
Knocked that down and continued into a tree that stopped my car, and
landed sideway on the road. Five houses down from my driveway. Luckily
there was a police officer driving by and saw everything. I got rushed to the
hospital with an open scull and broken spine and my kids went to a
different one. They were fine, no scratch on them. My husband only called
once to the hospital asking if I was still alive. My mom came from Chicago.
She begged me to leave him, but I couldnt leave my kids.
Three months later, when I got out of a body brace I decided to eat all
my pain medication, hoping that my heart will stop, and I wont weak up. On
top of that I drank all day. I was done with this life. Unfortunately, or
fortunately i woke up the next day, sick to my stomach. Two days later,
when I stopped vomiting, I was convinced that no matter what I do I cant
die. I decided to go to a rehab. I started calling places, not knowing
anything about this. The only thing I knew is that I needed to remove myself
from that house in order to be able to get help. Four days later I entered an
inpatient rehab. That was December 3rd. 2011.
When my husband found out what I decided, he was furious, didnt let
me sleep for two days, kept on fallowing me from room to room, yelling and
crying. He kept on pleading: Christmas is coming; cant you wait till after
New Years? Whos going to decorate the house for Christmas?. I didnt
care anymore what he wanted.
My relationship with my oldest daughter became very strange.
Something was wrong and I just couldnt place my finger on it. She was
becoming like him, yelling and wishing she was dead.
Two weeks into my rehab I got served with the divorce papers.
Papers that were ready six months ago. It said that I have abandoned the
house and the children. But prior to that he kept on calling every day,

sometimes five or six times a day asking about me, and what was new with
me. He even made quite a donation to the facility for Christmas. And for
Christmas, three days after I got served with the divorce papers he brought
me a half carat diamond neckless. That I could never understand. Four
weeks after rehab I was ready to be discharged but he said that he wasnt
ready to have me home, so I stayed another two weeks.
When I came back home, I wasnt allowed to care for my kids. I was
allowed to fix meals for them, help them with homework, and bath them
only. When I wanted to hug them or carry my baby in my arms his mother
would rip her out of my hands. She would fallow me from room to room and
report back to my soon to be ex, everything I did and/or said.
When he was home, I remember saying the serenity prayer over and
over again when he was standing above me and yelling that I did
something I wasnt supposed to. I wasnt allowed to have any contact with
my oldest daughter, while she was acting like his spouse. One time I
wanted to change the bed sheets and I found bloody underwear under her
pillow. Many times I would find him coming out of her room in the middle of
the night, and I was not allowed in her room or to talk to her. Then I found
out that she was sex-texting. When I took her cell phone away and she was
forced to stop, her necked pictures ended up all over the internet. At one
point I found out that she tried to drown herself when I was at rehab.
Imagine the pain and guilt there I felt.
A month into this craziness I got served with court papers to move out
of the house. I moved into the house we first bought when we moved here
from Chicago. I couldnt see my kids for four months, until the court
assigned me visitations.
In the process of the divorce, my visitations were increased to almost
shared parenting time, the only difference was I was the only one doing the
parenting. He didnt care. Refused to give the kids lunch money, or buy any
school supplies. He still had the interim custody, and it wasnt convenient
for him to change the daycare then so that my son could go to kindergarten
at an elementary school. (since then my son has been behind with his
academics, and now facing not passing to fourth grade).
When my oldest daughter ended up posting on the internet that she
will hang herself on the last day of middle school, he told the school to call

me to deal with that because he was busy at work. That was the last straw
for me, I filled for sole custody after that. I was granted temporary custody
after that, kids came to live with me, he only had visitations. With me
agreeing to move the custody case to the juvenile court I was able to close
on my divorce.
However, his abuse did not stop. He would call the police in the
middle of the night, alleging that Im drunk with kids. I would wake up in the
middle of the night and see him starring at my home from across the street.
Hed fallow me around during the day and cause arguments in public
places. Bribed the two teenage daughters with stylish clothes and cell
phones to spy on me and give me hard time.
My oldest daughter was already on antidepressant medication at age
fourteen, still cutting and talking about committing suicide. She had been to
many inpatient facilities and done many outpatient treatments. My son
started to call me names, (because that was what dad referred about me to
them). I couldnt handle the pressure. To top it all, I lost half of my income
two weeks before Christmas, and I worked so hard to build up my clients,
because after the separation with my husband I had to give up my
business.
In march of 2014, I relapsed. I got drunk after two years of sobriety.
My oldest daughter came home and found me passed out on the couch.
She first called her dad, who came and punched me, he then called
children services and police. I lost my kids. Shame and guilt I still live with.
He did not make this easy on me. Again, I couldnt see my kids for
about three months. Then I had to go through the system. Have supervised
visitations once a week for four hours, then unsupervised, then he added
weekends and later on one evening a week.
I decided to use this time and get myself better. Went through another
treatment, this time an outpatient. When I completed that I literary thru
myself in the middle of Alcoholics Anonymous. Most importantly made a
decision to go to college.
With all my experience with Job and Family Services, I have been
discriminated against for being in AA, I decided to study social work. I
believe we all should get a second chance.

It is hard to watch my kids to grow up and become like my ex. They

dont know how to behave around other kids or how to make friends. They
are a hassle to deal with sometimes. They yell and are unable to have a
calm conversation. They boss each other around. That reminds me so
much of the ways my ex-husband used to be. However, they are kids,
innocent. It is not their fault that they adopt this way to life with the father
example they have. They react what is done to them.
While my ex-husband still continuous to inflict psychological, verbal
and physical abuse on the kids, I believe that I am getting better. I have
remained sober for over two years now. Last year I married my friend. I
continue to do weekly therapy and take my medications for my depression.
I am the mom today that I always should have been. I have great
relationship with my oldest daughter, she wants to move in with me this
summer. Custody case is in the middle of a trial, should be over next year.
My ex is still doing everything he can to hurt me, mainly it is through limiting
my contact with the children, but I know I will survive this too. I have to. My
children need to know the right kind of way to live a life, without an abuse.
Today my children wish that they lived with me. My youngest
daughter, who is six years old, (and this all thing started when she was
eight months old) wishes my husband was her real father. That tells me I
finally made the right choice.
I am not losing hope. My children will come back to me. My husband
is wonderful support. My life is filled with love and gratitude today. There is
the light at the end of a tunnel. And I want to spread my attitude to those
women that are where I once was. I want them to know that there is life
after an abuser.