Dolores is a 68-year-old mother of two, who has grandchildren and is now enjoying being a great-grandmother.
She also is a survivor of domestic violence.Dolores' story shows that the women who suffer from domestic violence stretches beyond age, race and socioeconomic status.
Dolores, whose real name is being withheld for her safety, was married to her husband, John, for 20 years. Most of that time, by Dolores' own admission, wasn't good.
John was verbally and physically abusive.
"The signals were set off really early," said Dolores.
At first, she thought his controlling nature was his way of taking care of her. She quickly learned that wasn't the case.
It started with blowups, like the time the two were at a grocery store and waiting in line just a little bit too long caused John to make a scene.
"He started saying things to the cashier and then he turned to me and said, 'We're leaving,' even though we had a full cart of groceries," said Dolores.
At first, Dolores would stand up to John's outbursts, then he started lashing out at her.
John would hit her and yell at her when she would stand up to him.
"You just give up trying to say anything because, when you did, it escalated to being physical," said Dolores.
He would control her and became jealous at any friendships she had. Dolores called police from time to time, but John would apologize. She was afraid to let her two grown sons know what was going on.
"You don't want your family to know what the depth of this pain is," said Dolores.
Dolores now knows she was an enabler. She learned this at an early age dealing with an alcoholic father.
"My parents were loving people," said Dolores. "But my dad was an alcoholic. I can remember as early as 9 years old, waking up to make him coffee or heat him up some dinner or just keep him company when he'd come home drunk."
Dolores thought she could fix things with John. She wasn't a quitter, and she definitely wasn't going to quit on her marriage.
There were times she left, but she always came back.
That changed one day in April when, sitting around the dinner table, John and his son got into an argument. Dolores got involved, and John began a tirade of verbal abuse.
"I just got up and told him, 'You have no feelings toward me,' and left," she said.
Dolores, who isn't from Warsaw, said she felt God directing her. She grabbed her coat, got in her car and headed to Warsaw to stay with one of her sons.
After staying with her son, Dolores got in touch with Becky Moreno, who runs the Warsaw Police Department's Victims' Assistance Program.
Dolores considers Moreno and others she's met since she left John a godsend.
"Here I sit before you saying I have hope," said Dolores. "I know I can do this for me."
Dolores went through counseling and talked with other victims of domestic violence, most young enough to be Dolores' grandchildren, and heard their stories.
"We found out our husbands were all the same," said Dolores. "And we try to make excuses for them. But you can't because they're sick in the head."
She broke down while telling the story of a woman whose husband abused her 2-week-old baby.
"If my story can affect just one woman and get her to leave," said Dolores, "so that no other woman, and especially no other child suffers, then it's worth it."
Dolores credits Moreno and the help she received at the Victims' Assistance Program as a way to give her hope and strength.
John has made attempts to reconcile. Despite not knowing where she was, John was able to send her letters begging for forgiveness. While that may have worked in the past, Dolores is now living for herself.
"When you are in a abusive relationship like that you put yourself last," said Dolores. "I'm putting myself first now."
And Dolores is also amazed by the kindness of others. The final time she left, Dolores, who is a diabetic, forgot her medications at home.
She went to Kosciusko Community Hospital and a man named Chad, who Dolores calls "a guardian angel," was able to get a hold of her off-duty doctor and get her prescriptions refilled.
"It's amazing. When you realize there are people who will help you once they know your situation, it's amazing," said Dolores.
The Victims' Assistance Program is run through private donations and grants that continually dwindle.
To help keep the program alive that has given hope to women like Dolores, Michelle Bormet, the secretary to Mayor Ernie Wiggins, and WPD Chief Perry Hunter created the Police Chiefs' Inaugural Gala Benefit for Victims' Service Center. There also will be a live and silent auction.
The event will take place Oct. 24 at Tippecanoe Lake Country Club. There will be entertainment provided by Chuck Surack, owner of Sweetwater Sound, along with dinner and dancing.
The price is $60 per person
For more information concerning the event or to contribute to or attend this event, call Bormet at 574-372-9595 or e-mail her at mbormet@kconline.com
