Lost and Found in Brazil: Abuse and Salvation

By Darlene da Silva

Imagine being a victim of domestic violence in a foreign country with your two children. You don't speak the language, have no financial resources, and can't go home.

This book will take you into the life of a family riddled with domestic violence and what they learned through the experience.

• The story will help the reader under

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: Aug 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685568108

Book preview

Dedication

I dedicate this book to all my Brazilian friends who became family. You stole my heart with your love and faithful friendship. During my darkest days, you took my hand and helped me through. When I couldn’t speak the language, you translated for me. When I was learning to survive in your world, you guided me. When I was lost, you helped me find my way. When you saw a need, you tried to fill it without being asked. God’s second greatest commandment is to love your neighbor, and the people of Brazil have genuinely embraced this in their lifestyle.

I cried before I left Brazil, afraid I couldn’t live like an American again, and I still haven’t figured out how to live the American way. I spend my days missing your smiles, warmth, and love. I cannot say I miss you because I feel saudades. 2008–2014.

"You’ve changed me forever.

And I’ll never forget you."

—Kiera Cass

Introduction

I wrote this book to reach the hearts and minds of people facing impossible situations or who simply want to be inspired by God’s miracles. My story faces the tough topic of domestic violence. I pray my experience can touch the hearts and minds of victims to take the necessary steps to change their situation.

One out of every four women and one out of every nine men are abused. Seventy-two percent of all murder suicides involve an intimate partner. Domestic violence has increased globally by 30 percent since the pandemic in 2020.

There is a light in the darkness, and hope is in every seemingly hopeless situation. He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds (Psalm 147:3, ESV). In Brazil, they have a unique saying when saying goodbye. They always tell each other "Fica com Deus (Stay with God) or Vai com Deus (Go with God"). If we took those expressions to heart, we would never fear or worry about tomorrow.

As you read this story, fica com Deus!

In the Beginning

In her heart she is a mourner for those who have not survived.

In her soul she is a warrior for those who are now as she was then.

In her life she is both celebrant and proof of women’s capacity and will to survive, to become, to act, to change self and society. And each year she is stronger and there are more of her.

—Andrea Dworkin

Who We Were

Before telling my story of victory and all I learned, I need to tell you about myself, my husband, and my family. I came from a divorced American family and was raised in the church by my mother. My husband was Brazilian, and like me, his parents were divorced, and his mother brought him up in the church as well. To get an idea of who we were, I will give you a brief history of our lives.

As a young adult, I was a trainwreck like many people in today’s world. When you’re young and still trying to figure life out, it’s hard to have your life together. It’s even more complicated when your family life growing up is a disaster. As I mentioned, my parents were divorced, but many other issues went along with the divorce. In my parents’ case, divorce was the best option; under the same roof, they were toxic. After the divorce, they rolled into the anger, resentment, and constant bashing of one another. If all that wasn’t enough, they moved on to other relationships with individuals who remind me of Disney movies’ evil stepparents. Unlike the films, we didn’t have a happily ever after where the issues were resolved.

My brothers and sister had the unfortunate childhood experience of our parent’s constant fighting and my father’s physical abuse. According to stories I’ve heard, my father was abusive to my siblings, but I can’t testify to things I didn’t witness. My father says my mother continually went against his wishes and acted deviously. Then you have my mother, who says my father was basically a beast. Each person’s story was different, but I think they all agreed that life was miserable. From the few memories I have and the stories I’ve heard, I think it’s safe to say I was the lucky one. My siblings lived in a toxic environment until their late teenage years.

Once the divorce was in play, my siblings and I entered the battle zone between Mom and Dad. My siblings were ten or more years older than me, allowing them to walk away from some of the conflict. They still had to listen to my parents talk about one another, get dragged into the holiday war games, and be pressured to take sides. I was seven or eight when my parents divorced, so I don’t remember a lot about their married years. I remember the tension that existed, but I think they tried to shelter me as a small child.

At around seven years old, I witnessed my father raise an electric frying pan over his head to hit my mother. The blow could’ve killed her, but God stepped in, and my father lowered the frying pan and said it was over. He wanted a divorce before he killed her. The most vivid memory of my parent’s marriage was that moment with the frying pan. I can’t remember another moment with my parents in the same room or even a holiday together. They went their separate ways, thankfully, but managed to keep the battle rolling. I can’t even count how many times I cried being pulled between two quarreling parents. Forty years later, they still have something to say about the other, but I think old age has zapped their energy and reduced the clamor.

Shortly after the divorce, my father remarried. Over the years, our stepsisters replaced us in my father’s life, and we were treated as outcasts by our stepmother. Not for one moment did she try to hide her feelings. At one point, my father recognized her loathsome attitude but flat out said he was too old to start over. He knew what she would do in a divorce and wouldn’t be able to retire if he left. He expressed his disapproval of her conduct by quarreling with her, but he never resolved the issue, and there was no improvement in her attitude. My stepmother knew full well she had the upper hand.

My mother remained a basket case for years without a man to guide and love her. After about eight years, a man finally came along that showed her attention, and that was it. She grasped on to him and never let go. He ended up being a major alcoholic and smoked a lot of marijuana. We could never understand how she was with someone who drank and smoked since she had always been absolutely against those behaviors. They had a very co-dependent relationship that wasn’t healthy, but somehow their dysfunction worked. This man had no desire to be a father and didn’t have the attributes of a father. Over the years, he found subtle ways to drive a wedge between my mother and me slowly. I can’t speak for my brothers and sister, but I know they struggled with our stepfather differently over the years.

Even though our parents never really abandoned us, it felt like it at times. It boiled down to the simple fact that we were products of a horrible marriage. Our parents loved us, but they didn’t know how to fix the disaster they had created. They moved on and found new partners but not ones who wanted to be loving stepparents. As the years went by, I think we tried to be family, but there wasn’t much left.

As I reached adulthood, my father said there was no financial help for college. He gave my stepsister a thousand dollars toward her wedding and told me if I preferred to use my thousand toward a car, I could. He was clear that there would be no help for my wedding. I took the thousand dollars because I needed a car. The sad part wasn’t that my father didn’t have money; it was that he did.

There was no sense of support from either of my parents. My stepmother made it clear she didn’t want me home after high school, not to mention there was no future in the middle of the boonies where they lived. My stepfather was a nasty drunk and was physically abusive one day. My mother told me she chose him and I needed to go. At that point, I ended up in the YWCA so that I wouldn’t be homeless. After paying rent at the YWCA, I was left with about thirty bucks a week for food. My mother offered advice on eating from such a low budget, but her concern ended there. They raised me, and their job was over; it was as if my high school graduation was their freedom. When you don’t have love, support, or the right direction in your life, it’s hard to be anything other than a train wreck.

I had no idea what I would do with my life, and any real future seemed lost without any support. Youth is complicated, and it’s hard to figure it all out without support and guidance. I ended up getting married to the wrong person and having two beautiful children. After being married for a while, I discovered he was a severe alcoholic. I tried to look past the problem, but it’s one thing that doesn’t get better unless a person wants to change. I later heard he was misbehaving with teenage girls. I tried to blow it off because denial is more comfortable, but one day he was drinking, and I saw him try to grab a young girl’s breast. I woke up and decided I couldn’t do it anymore.

I knew leaving my husband wouldn’t be easy with two kids, so I began planning, working hard, and saving money. Finally, I just walked away with the kids. He headed to California and then asked me to move there with him. He wanted to keep the relationship together, but I was done and couldn’t do it any longer.

When summer rolled around, he begged me to let the kids come to California to visit. My family warned me not to until I had custody, but I didn’t listen. I was young and stupid, allowing him to play me. I let the kids go to California for the summer, and they never came home. I had no money for an attorney, and because they were living with him, he had the upper hand. I had no idea what to do; I desperately tried several avenues, but every path seemed to be a dead end. My mother called my father to ask him for financial assistance to hire a lawyer, but he said no. My father’s response was that a man could raise kids as well as a woman. I would have to say this was one of the worse points in my life. I was free of a horrible marriage but lost my precious children. I became depressed for a long time, and I suffered from PTSD concerning my children.

I was lost and felt alone from the absence of my children. I went to work every day and passed each day purposelessly. The recovery was slow, and I needed to feel love. Beyond that, I had no real future goals at that point in my life; I just got up, went to work every day, and tried to pay the bills. I guess you could say I was a little crazy at times and didn’t think through things well. I was a disaster, just trying my hardest to get through each day. My life was so lost and was always lacking something.

Now let me introduce my second husband, who completely changed my life. His story was similar because he came from a broken and abusive family, but there were many cultural differences. He was born in Brazil to a truck driver and an at-home mom. His father worked for a dairy company and made a decent wage, but nothing compared to Americans; they lived very poorly. He had two sisters, making their home five people relying on one salary. His father was abusive to his mother till he was sixteen years old, when he finally took it upon himself to fight back against his father. For years his father mistreated their mother and cheated on her. After he stood up to his father, his father moved out.

Although their house was now abuse-free, there was little money. His mother could only receive a minimum salary plus child support. The minimum wage at that time was only about a hundred US dollars a month. The struggle was real, and work was not abundant. Like many others in their country, he wanted better, but the only chance he could see was going to the US. He tried on different occasions to come legally, but the door was closed to people that didn’t have a college education or property.

He struggled along with his family to survive, and when he did have work, he helped his mother pay for things she needed. One day he was offered the opportunity to come to the US. A local man offered to pay for his passage through Mexico to escort his daughter on the trip through the desert. The price was 10,000 dollars, and my husband needed to pay it back. My husband jumped at the opportunity and came to the US illegally. He had friends already established in the US to help him start his new life.

Before Our Life Together in Brazil

When I met my husband, he was an illegal employee at a local fast-food restaurant. He worked any job he could get to send money home to his mother and pay his debt. On countless occasions, he told me how he hated his father for everything he put them through and for the mistreatment of his mother. He spoke highly of his mother, and he was right to do so; she was a wonderful loving woman.

We fell in love quickly, and within a year, I was pregnant with my son Matthew. We struggled to pay his debt, support his mother, and pay for everything we needed for Matthew. The financial load was heavy, and my husband’s legal status made it more complicated. When he found himself out of work, it took time for him to find another job